I remember the rain.
Loud.
Relentless.
Like it was trying to erase something.
Or someone.
I remember laughing.
I remember headlights.
Then—
Nothing.
---
When I wake, everything is white.
White ceiling.
White sheets.
White noise humming from machines I don't recognize.
My head feels split open. Stitched back together wrong.
There's something in my hand.
Warm.
Heavy.
Familiar.
I turn my head.
And see him.
Asleep in the chair beside my bed.
Suit wrinkled.
Tie loosened.
Dark hair disheveled.
He looks like he hasn't slept in days.
His hand is wrapped around mine like I might vanish if he lets go.
My chest tightens.
Because I don't know him.
But even in sleep—
He looks at me like I'm his entire world.
---
A nurse gasps.
"Oh my God. Mrs. Reyes?"
Mrs. Reyes.
The name doesn't fit.
"I'm not married," I whisper.
The man stirs.
Eyes snap open.
Dark. Sharp. Relieved.
"Alessa."
He says my name like it hurts.
Like he's been holding it in for years.
I swallow.
"I'm sorry… do I know you?"
Something cracks in his face.
Gone in a second.
Replaced by control.
"I'm your husband."
The word drops between us.
Heavy.
Impossible.
"No."
He doesn't argue.
Doesn't raise his voice.
He studies me.
Like I'm a case he intends to win.
"You were in an accident," he says calmly. "Trauma to your head. The doctors warned memory loss was possible."
Memory loss?
My heart races.
"No. I was driving back from dinner with Marcus."
The name slips out.
Comforting.
Safe.
Marcus.
The man I love.
The man I'm engaged to.
Adrian's grip tightens.
Just slightly.
"Marcus De La Torre?"
"Yes."
The room chills.
"You haven't been with Marcus in five years."
Five years.
"That's ridiculous."
"It's 2026, Alessa."
My stomach drops.
"No."
"Yes."
My breath stutters.
"It's 2021. We're planning the wedding."
He leans forward.
Slow. Deliberate.
Like approaching something fragile.
"We married in 2022."
My ears ring.
"No."
His jaw tightens.
"You're my wife."
Not pleading.
Not desperate.
Possessive.
Certain.
"Show me proof."
He scrolls his phone.
Hands it to me.
A photo.
Me.
In a wedding gown.
Smiling.
Looking at him like he's the only man in the world.
And him—
Looking at me like he'd burn the world down to keep me.
My hands shake.
"That's not real."
"It is."
"No. I would remember."
His eyes darken.
"You don't remember filing for divorce either."
Divorce?
"I would never—"
"You did."
Silence.
Thick.
Suffocating.
"You handed me the papers the night of the accident."
My throat closes.
"Why?"
He watches me.
Calculating.
"You said you weren't in love with me anymore."
The words feel foreign.
Impossible.
I look at him.
Devastating.
Controlled power radiates from him.
Expensive suit.
Expensive watch.
The kind of man who commands boardrooms.
But his eyes—
Bruised by something deeper than sleepless nights.
"I don't remember loving you," I whisper.
And that—
That finally hurts him.
It flashes across his face before he masks it.
"You did," he says softly. "You loved me enough to leave Marcus at the altar."
My breath stops.
"I would never."
"You did."
My heart plummets.
"No."
"You chose me."
The machine beside me beeps faster.
"I want Marcus," I say.
The words taste like betrayal.
But they're the only thing that feel real.
Adrian goes still.
"I see."
"I need to talk to him."
"He's in Boston."
"How do you know?"
"I know everything about him."
Not jealousy.
Not rage.
Strategy.
Like Marcus is a rival in a courtroom battle.
And Adrian is already preparing his closing argument.
"Call him," I demand.
Adrian studies me.
Then nods once.
"I will."
But his eyes—
They make my skin prickle.
He stands.
Tall. Commanding.
When he lets go of my hand, I feel it.
The absence.
And I hate that I feel it.
"Why didn't you sign the divorce papers?"
Silence.
Then—
"Because I don't give up on what's mine."
Mine.
The word sends heat crawling up my spine.
"I'm not property."
His gaze darkens.
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because you didn't mean it."
"You don't know that."
His jaw flexes.
"I know you."
I look at him.
This stranger.
This husband.
This man who could ruin lives with a phone call.
"You don't know me."
His control slips.
Just a fraction.
"I knew you," he corrects quietly. "Before you forgot."
He walks out.
Leaving me staring at the wedding photo.
At the way I looked at him.
Like I loved him.
Like I trusted him.
Like I belonged to him.
But I don't remember.
And if I don't remember…
Did it even happen?
---
Later that night, the room is dark.
I stare at the ring on my finger.
Heavy.
Platinum.
Diamond.
I don't remember him putting it there.
I don't remember saying yes.
I don't remember loving him.
But when I try to take it off—
It doesn't move.
And for some reason…
I start to cry.
———
Outside my hospital door, I don't hear Adrian speaking to the doctor.
But I do hear him say one thing.
Low.
Controlled.
Terrifyingly calm.
"She may not remember me…
but she's still my wife.
And I'm not losing her again."