The night was unusually silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence that brings comfort… but a heavy, suffocating stillness—the kind that presses against your chest and makes your heart uneasy for no reason at all.
It felt as if the night itself was holding its breath… waiting.
Even the ever-busy city of Kolkata seemed exhausted, as though it had finally surrendered to the weight of its own chaos. The honking horns, the endless rush, the restless crowd—everything had faded into a strange, unnatural quiet.
Streetlights flickered under the soft breeze, their dim glow stretching into long, broken shadows across the empty road. The air carried a faint chill, brushing against the skin like a whisper.
Somewhere in the distance, the lonely barking of stray dogs echoed through the silence, making the night feel even more deserted… even more isolating.
Kiara walked slowly along the roadside.
Her steps were uneven, almost dragging, as if each step demanded more strength than she had left. Her body felt heavy, drained from exhaustion, yet her mind refused to rest.
It kept thinking.
Kept worrying.
Kept breaking.
She was new to this city.
A stranger.
Just a few days ago, she had arrived here, carrying nothing but hope… and fear.
Hope—that her father would recover.
Fear—that she might lose him forever.
Because she needed a large amount of money for her father's treatment—an amount so big that it felt impossible… unreachable… like something meant for another world.
No matter how hard she tried… no matter how much she thought… there was no way for her to arrange it.
The reality crushed her.
Everything around her felt unfamiliar—the roads, the buildings, the people, even the air she breathed.
Nothing felt like home.
Nothing felt safe.
She hugged her bag tighter against her chest, as if holding onto it could somehow hold her together.
Her eyes were tired, shadowed with sleepless nights. Her lips were dry, her face pale, yet there was a quiet strength in her silence.
A strength built from helplessness.
Every time she pictured her father lying on that hospital bed… weak… unmoving… connected to machines…
Her chest tightened painfully.
It felt like someone was squeezing her heart.
Again and again.
The doctor's voice echoed in her mind, refusing to fade.
"The operation is risky… but necessary."
Necessary.
That one word kept repeating.
"How long will this go on…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if even the night might hear her pain.
Her breath trembled.
Her steps slowed.
She felt alone.
Not just physically…
But deeply, painfully alone.
And then—
SCREEECHHHHH—!!!
The sound tore through the silence like a violent slash.
Kiara flinched, her entire body jolting as her heart jumped violently into her throat.
Her eyes snapped forward.
For a moment, her brain refused to process what she was seeing.
Everything felt unreal.
Like a nightmare unfolding in slow motion.
Then—
Reality hit her.
Hard.
A black luxury car had been hit from behind by a truck, causing it to crash violently into the roadside barrier.
The impact had been brutal.
The front of the car was completely crushed, twisted metal glinting under the dim streetlight. Smoke rose slowly into the cold air, curling like something alive.
The headlights flickered weakly… blinking… fading… as if they were struggling to survive.
Kiara's heartbeat became erratic.
Fast.
Loud.
Uncontrollable.
"Oh my God… an accident!"
Before she could think—before fear could stop her—
She ran.
Her footsteps echoed sharply against the empty road, breaking the silence as she rushed toward the wreck.
The closer she got, the heavier her chest felt.
A strange fear crept into her heart.
What if it's too late?
What if she's already too late?
What if the person inside is—
"No!" she shook her head, almost angrily.
"Don't think like that…"
She reached the car.
The door was slightly open.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for it.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then she pushed it open.
Inside—
A man.
Covered in blood.
Unconscious.
Kiara froze.
Completely.
Time stopped.
The world disappeared.
No sound.
No movement.
Nothing.
Only him.
Her eyes slowly moved to his face.
And in that moment—
Her breath caught.
Even in this condition…
Even broken…
Even bleeding…
He looked devastatingly handsome.
Not just handsome—
dangerously attractive.
His sharp, perfectly sculpted jawline looked like it had been carved with deliberate precision. Every angle of his face was flawless—too perfect, too unreal, like he belonged to a different world.
His thick, slightly messy dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead, giving him a wild, untamed charm that contrasted dangerously with his otherwise cold features.
Under the faint streetlight, his skin carried a pale glow… now stained with streaks of blood.
Yet somehow—
It only made him look more intense.
More distant.
More untouchable.
His lips—firm, perfectly shaped—were slightly parted, as if even in unconsciousness, he held onto control… onto dominance.
But what struck her the most—
Was his presence.
Even like this—
Broken.
Bleeding.
Unconscious.
He didn't look weak.
Not even for a second.
He looked powerful.
As if the world had paused around him.
As if he was the kind of man who controlled everything.
People.
Situations.
Fate itself.
There was something about him.
Something that pulled her in.
An invisible force.
A dangerous attraction she didn't understand.
Something overwhelming.
Something she couldn't ignore.
An aura that didn't belong to an ordinary man.
A presence that made it impossible to look away.
He looked like the kind of man—
Every girl would secretly fall for…
Yet fear getting close to.
A man—
Who could break hearts without even trying.
A man who wasn't meant to be touched—
Yet impossible to ignore.
Someone who didn't rule just with power—
But with his existence.
He looked like a prince from another world.
A man who belonged to luxury, control, and danger.
But Kiara didn't recognize him.
She didn't know his name.
His identity.
His power.
To her—
He was just an injured stranger.
Nothing more.
And yet…
She couldn't walk away.
"Can you hear me? Please… open your eyes!"
Her voice trembled as she leaned closer.
Her fingers brushed against his cheek.
Warm.
Alive.
But unresponsive.
No movement.
No reaction.
Her heart sank.
For a moment, doubt crept in again.
What should she do?
Leave?
Call someone else?
What if this turns into trouble?
What if—
Her thoughts stopped.
She looked at him again.
At the blood.
At his still body.
And something inside her made a decision.
A strong one.
A final one.
"No… I can't just leave him here!"
Her voice was firm now.
Determined.
Without wasting another second, she pulled out her phone and dialed emergency services.
"Hello! There's been an accident—please come quickly!"
Her fingers trembled as she spoke.
Her eyes never left him.
"Please… don't die…" she whispered unconsciously.
Time slowed.
Painfully.
Every second stretched into eternity.
The silence returned—
But this time, it felt heavier.
Then—
Distant sirens.
Loud.
Growing closer.
Relief flooded her chest.
Finally.
Help had arrived.
A while later, Kiara stood outside the emergency room.
Her hands rubbed against each other repeatedly.
Cold.
Shaking.
Her nails pressed into her skin unconsciously.
Her heartbeat hadn't slowed down.
Not even a little.
The doctors had rushed him inside the moment the ambulance arrived.
The doors had closed.
And now—
She could do nothing.
Except wait.
Time passed.
Slow.
Endless.
Her eyes remained fixed on the red light above the emergency room door.
Please… be okay…
Please… survive…
Suddenly—
The door opened.
Two nurses rushed out, whispering urgently.
"Do you know who he is?"
"Who?"
"He's Aryan Backwood!"
Kiara frowned slightly.
The name meant nothing to her.
But the reaction around her—
Changed instantly.
The staff stiffened.
The atmosphere shifted.
"Backwood Company's CEO… the whole city knows him!"
And not just knows—
Obsesses.
All the girls in the city were crazy about him.
Madly, irrationally obsessed.
Some had gone to extreme lengths just to get his attention—
Even hurting themselves…
Cutting their own hands…
Hoping he would notice.
Hoping he would look at them just once.
But no matter how beautiful they were—
He never cared.
Never stopped.
Never looked back.
Cold.
Distant.
Ruthless.
His behavior was sharp, indifferent… and undeniably rude.
No one dared to cross the line.
No one dared to get close.
Because everyone knew—
He didn't belong to anyone.
And never would.
Among the richest, most powerful men in the city—
His name stood above all.
Untouchable.
Unreachable.
Unbreakable.
The atmosphere inside the hospital felt tense… almost suffocating.
Kiara stood there, still trying to process everything she had just heard.
Aryan Backwood.
The name now echoed heavily in her mind.
A man the whole city knew…
A man people feared…
A man no one could reach.
And yet—
Right now—
He was lying inside that room… injured… unconscious…
And somehow…
Connected to her.
Her fingers tightened around her bag.
Her heart felt uneasy.
Why did this feel so strange?
So… unreal?
Just then, the emergency room doors opened again.
A doctor stepped out, removing his gloves.
Kiara immediately rushed forward.
"Doctor… how is he?"
The doctor looked at her briefly, then said calmly,
"For now, he is stable."
Kiara let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding.
But—
The doctor continued,
"However, the injury to his head is quite severe."
Her heart sank again.
"There is a possibility… that he may lose his memory."
The words hit her like a shock.
"Lose… his memory?"
The doctor nodded slightly.
"We can't say anything for certain yet. We'll have to observe him."
Kiara fell silent.
Memory loss…
That meant—
He might forget everything.
Who he is.
Where he belongs.
Everyone.
A strange uneasiness settled in her chest.
Before she could think further—
A voice cut through the air.
"Where is sir?!"
A man rushed toward them.
Sharp suit.
Cold eyes.
Authority in every step.
"And you are?" the doctor asked.
"I'm Raman… Mr. Aryan Backwood's personal assistant."
Kiara looked at him silently.
Everything felt too fast.
Too overwhelming.
Raman didn't even glance at her.
His attention was fully on Aryan.
"Can I see him?"
The doctor nodded.
"Yes, but only for a short time."
Raman walked inside immediately.
Kiara stayed outside.
Unsure.
Uncertain.
She didn't even know why she was still there.
Maybe…
Because she was the one who brought him.
Maybe…
Because something inside her refused to leave.
Hours passed.
The night slowly turned deeper.
The hospital grew quieter.
And then—
Inside the room—
Aryan moved.
Slightly.
His fingers twitched.
His brows furrowed.
And slowly…
Very slowly—
His eyes opened.
Everything looked blurry.
White.
Bright.
Unfamiliar.
He frowned.
"Where… am I?"
His voice was low.
Weak.
Yet it carried an undeniable authority.
As if weakness didn't suit him.
As if power was part of his existence.
Raman immediately stepped forward.
"Sir! You're in the hospital. You had an accident."
Aryan turned his head slightly.
His eyes scanned the room.
The walls.
The machines.
The unfamiliar faces.
Confusion flickered across his expression.
Something was missing.
Something felt… empty.
"Who… are you?"
Raman froze.
"…Sir?"
"I asked," Aryan's voice was calm but sharp,
"who are you?"
Raman's expression changed.
A flicker of shock passed through his eyes.
"I'm Raman… your assistant."
Aryan stared at him.
Blank.
Cold.
Nothing.
No recognition.
No memory.
"No…"
He slowly shook his head.
"I don't know you."
Raman's heart dropped.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't right.
Before he could say anything—
The door opened.
Kiara stepped inside slowly.
She didn't know why—
But her feet had moved on their own.
Her eyes met his.
And everything changed.
Aryan's gaze froze.
Locked.
On her.
As if he had finally found something.
Something familiar.
Something… his.
"You…"
His voice softened.
Kiara hesitated.
"Are you… okay?"
Aryan didn't answer.
He just kept looking at her.
Intensely.
Deeply.
As if trying to confirm something.
As if trying to remember—
Through her.
"Where were you…?"
His voice came out low.
Almost accusing.
Kiara blinked in confusion.
"What?"
Before she could react—
His hand reached out.
Grabbing hers.
Tightly.
Warm.
Firm.
Possessive.
Kiara's breath caught.
"I was looking for you…"
Her heart skipped.
"You're mistaken—"
"No."
His voice cut her off.
Firm.
Certain.
Unshakable.
"You're my wife."
Silence.
Everything stopped.
The air turned heavy.
"What?!" Kiara's voice shook.
Raman stepped forward immediately.
"Sir! Please listen—"
"I said I don't know you," Aryan snapped coldly.
Raman went silent.
Completely stunned.
Aryan's grip on Kiara tightened.
As if afraid she might disappear.
As if she was the only real thing in his world.
"I only know her…"
His gaze never left her face.
A faint, dangerous smile appeared on his lips.
"…my wife."
Kiara's mind went blank.
This was insane.
Completely insane.
She tried to pull her hand back—
But his grip didn't loosen.
Her heart pounded wildly.
Fear.
Confusion.
And something else…
Something she couldn't explain.
Why was he looking at her like that?
Why did it feel so real…?
Raman's expression darkened.
This was bad.
Very bad.
If Aryan had really lost his memory—
And only remembered her—
Then—
Everything was about to change.
Drastically.
Kiara stood frozen.
Her world turning upside down in seconds.
One question echoed inside her mind—
Who is this man…?
And more importantly—
Why does he remember only her…?