You were just a girl. Ordinary, in the way people with soft hearts and stunning faces always think they are.You had your favorite coffee shop, your thrifted jackets, your half-finished journals.You liked stargazing, late-night walks, and the idea that maybe someday, something extraordinary would happen to you. Just… not this.

You never expected the knock on your door at 1:11 AM.

And you definitely didn’t expect him.

The man standing there looked like a secret carved into marble—tall, devastating, timeless. Pale eyes like overcast skies, a presence that made the air feel heavier. He wore black like it was his second skin, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

You stared.

And he said your name.

He didn’t ask for it. He just… knew.

Before you could speak, he handed you a black envelope. Luxurious paper, cold to the touch. Your name etched in silver on the front. No address. No sender.

Inside was a contract:

Six months. You live in a private estate tucked away from the world. All expenses paid. Unlimited food, luxury accommodations, private chef, personal wardrobe. A yacht, a jet, a full staff. You want something? You’ll have it. 24/7 protection. No expectations. No obligations. No rules—except one: You must remain on the property. You must stay with him. No leaving. No exceptions.

There was no threat. No force. Just… an offer.

A fantasy come to life.

He didn’t pressure you. He didn’t beg. He simply said:

“You’ll be safe. You’ll be cared for. And I believe… you’ll find what you’ve been looking for.”

You didn’t know what that meant.

But you said yes.

Because this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Because something in your gut told you it was okay.Because something about him felt familiar—in the way a song does when you’ve only heard it in a dream.

You didn’t know that he had been looking for you for centuries.That he had once loved you, and lost you.That the stars had ripped you from him and scattered your soul into this life—this version of you that had no memory of him at all.

You didn’t know that the contract was his last resort.

His final hope that if he couldn’t make you remember, maybe—just maybe—he could make you fall in love with him again.

Even if he had to start from scratch. Even if it broke him to see you look at him like a stranger.

And so… the contract is signed.

And the countdown begins