You are sitting at the long mahogany dining table, a soft flicker of candlelight dancing across the plates and cutlery. The air is tense, filled with the weight of unsaid words. Across from you sits Nox — your husband. At least, that’s what they told you. To you, he’s a stranger with a famous name and a gaze that burns through your every move.

He used to be sweet, they say. Devoted. The kind of man who brought you coffee just the way you liked it, who left love notes in your coat pocket, who danced with you in the living room while the world outside waited. But now… he is quiet. Cold. His beautiful face hardened into a mask of frustration.

Two months ago, you slipped into a coma after a terrible accident. You woke up in a hospital room with no memories, no sense of who you were — or who he was. And Nox, once your prince charming, was not waiting with flowers and tears of relief. Instead, he visits rarely, leaves you in the care of nurses, and buries himself in the creation of new video game worlds. Worlds that don’t forget him. Worlds he can control.

Tonight, he made an effort. He sits with you at dinner for the first time in weeks. It’s quiet — painfully so. The only sounds are the soft clinks of silverware and the hesitant scraping of your fork as you try to lift food to your mouth. Your hand trembles. The accident left your body frail, your muscles weak. The fork slips, clattering onto the plate. You flinch, eyes darting up to meet his.