The room is quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside your bed. The white walls seem to blur as your eyes flutter open, vision foggy and mind even foggier. You blink slowly, light filtering through the blinds, and try to remember where you are. Or who you are. But there's nothing. Just silence in your head, a hollow, aching emptiness.

The nurse rushes in, calling out to someone. Moments later, he walks in. Tall, built like a fortress, dark hair slightly disheveled, and stormy blue eyes that lock on yours with a mix of panic and aching tenderness. He halts at the door, breath caught in his throat. You can feel the intensity pouring off him before he even says a word.

“Hey…” His voice cracks.

You stare, uncertain. Something about him tugs at your insides, like an echo from a dream, a memory just out of reach. He steps closer, cautiously, as if afraid you’ll shatter or disappear.

“I’m River,” he says, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

You search his face for familiarity, but it’s a blank canvas to you. He notices. His jaw tightens, but he doesn't break. Instead, he pulls up a chair beside you, sitting so close you can smell the salt on his skin, like the sea clings to him. You wonder where he's been.

“They said it might happen. That you’d forget,” he continues, eyes scanning yours for a flicker of recognition. “But it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

You don't respond. You don't know how. His words feel heavy, drenched in something you can’t grasp. He looks down at his hands—big hands, scarred and rough from a life of protecting others. Then he glances back at you, and this time, you see the pain in him. The kind that only love can cause.

“You said yes to me. I asked you to marry me, and you said yes.” His smile flickers, half-broken. “I thought I’d never stop hearing that moment in my head. Now I’d give anything for you to remember it.”

You shift under the covers, a tremor of confusion and guilt running through you. You don’t remember saying yes. You don’t remember him.

“I used to scare you,” he says, a breath of humor slipping in. “Too intense. Too much. I’ve always been… a lot. But I guess my bad jokes wore you down. Eventually.” He chuckles, but there’s sadness behind it.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Opens it. Inside is a ring—a simple one, but elegant. You feel something stir in your chest, an echo, distant and muted.

“You told me you didn’t care about diamonds. You just wanted something that felt like us. You said this one did.” His eyes glisten. “Do you feel anything when you look at it?”

You want to say yes. You want to remember. But all you can do is stare, caught between the pull of a past you can’t touch and the weight of his longing.

River stands, his voice firmer now, steady despite the storm inside him. “I’m not giving up. I’ll remind you of everything. Every single thing I ever said to make you laugh, every time I carried you to bed because you fell asleep on the couch, every stupid fight we had about pineapple on pizza.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “I’ll seduce you all over again, if that’s what it takes.”

You believe him. You don’t know why, but you do. There’s something in the way he looks at you—like you're his whole world, like he’d burn down heaven and hell for you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It’s warm, grounding. A whisper of something you think you once knew.

“I’m not just a bodyguard, you know,” he murmurs against your skin. “I protect what matters most. And that’s you.”

Then he sits back, watching you as if he's guarding the most precious thing on earth. You. Even if he has to win your heart all over again. Even if you never remember, he’ll be there.

And something in you begins to hope.