The second year of our dynastic marriage, the ghost of his first love came back to town. Then, a car crash stole my memory. When I woke up, the cold man who was my husband had vanished. In his place was a stranger who kissed my fingertips with a reverence that felt like a prayer. "Don't try to remember," he whispered, his voice a low murmur. "You just need to know that we're happy." But that night, when I stood at his bedroom door clutching a pillow, his gaze turned dark, his voice a gravelly warning. "Are you sure you want to come in?" ... Later, when the fog cleared and every memory returned, I packed my bags, ready to leave the wreckage behind. I ran right into him, stumbling home, reeking of whiskey. He cornered me, quietly locking the door before advancing, a slow, predatory smile playing on his lips. "Where do you think you're going? Running off to that TA of yours?" He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Did you really think I'd just let you go, Chloe?" 1 "What do you remember?" Carter asked. I lay in the sterile hospital bed and shook my head. "Nothing. I remember nothing at all." His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, studied me for a long, silent moment. Then, using my driver’s license and other documents, he began to reconstruct my life for me, piece by piece. Finally, he lifted my hand. Slowly, deliberately, he brought my fingers to his lips, his kiss a lingering, tender caress. "It's okay if you can't remember," he murmured against my skin. "You just need to know that we have a very happy marriage." I wasn't sure if there was a double meaning in his words, but a blush crept up my neck anyway. I felt a pang of shyness, but I had to know. "Are we… in love?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. His last kiss landed on the delicate skin of my wrist. Carter’s gaze met mine, his eyes dark and unreadable, like pools of ink. "Of course." Maybe it was the unnerving sincerity in his eyes, or maybe it was the practiced intimacy of his touch. Whatever the reason, I didn't question him. I chose to believe. 2 I became attached to Carter. Clingy, even. That was the doctor's assessment. "It's likely a form of attachment dependency," she'd explained gently. "He was the first person you saw after the trauma. It's a natural response." … Following the doctor's advice, Carter took me downstairs for a walk around the hospital grounds. A sharp, cold wind hit me, and I shivered involuntarily. "Cold?" He let go of my hand, already starting to shrug off his heavy wool coat to drape it over my shoulders. I realized Carter Hayes had surprisingly low emotional intelligence. I reached out, pressing my hand against his chest to stop him. The next second, I wrapped my arms around his waist and burrowed into his chest, seeking the warmth of his body. "This way," I explained, my voice muffled against his shirt, "neither of us will be cold." I tilted my head back to look up at him, my expression serious. "A lesson in efficiency." Then, a flicker of doubt crossed my mind, followed by a surge of hurt. "Carter, do you really love me?" The accusation was soft, wounded. "Why do you never hold me?" The air around us shifted. The darkness in his eyes deepened, swirling with something I couldn't name. By the time I sensed the danger, it was too late. He pulled me into a deserted alcove, out of sight. Cupping my chin with one hand, his mouth descended on mine. "I love you." The words were a low growl against my lips, a breath before he stole mine completely. His voice, usually so cool and distant, was thick with a raw, suppressed emotion that the charged atmosphere seemed to amplify. "How could you ever say I don't love you?" I clung to his shoulders, my head swimming as I yielded to the kiss. Halfway through, he paused, his lips still brushing against mine. He peppered my cheek with a series of small, frantic kisses. "Is this too much?" he asked, his voice strained. I bit my lip, my entire body feeling as hot and flushed as a boiled lobster. "I don't think I'm very good at this…" I confessed, mortified. "Did I forget how? Or was I always this bad?" Ignoring my question, Carter wrapped his coat around me anyway, leaving himself in just a thin button-down shirt. His fingers traced the shell of my ear, which was burning red. He didn't answer. When he spoke again, his voice was a low, hypnotic rasp. "Want to try again, Chloe?" he whispered. "This time, you lead." He wanted me to be the aggressor, to kiss him the way he’d just kissed me. I prayed for a nurse or another patient to walk by, to save me from this paralyzing mix of embarrassment and anticipation. But the corner was too secluded. No one came. In the month since I’d woken up, Carter’s care had been relentless. I saw it in every gesture. He was a perfect, attentive husband. I owed it to him to try… "You have to bend down," I mumbled, my final words almost inaudible. "I can't reach…" A ghost of a smile touched Carter’s lips. He obliged, lowering his head. I moved slowly, tentatively, mimicking his earlier actions, my kiss clumsy and inexperienced. The arm around my waist tightened, pulling me impossibly closer. 3 A few days before I was discharged, a guy I didn't know showed up at my room. Carter was out getting us some soup. He introduced himself as Leo, my TA from my master’s program. He sighed dramatically, a playful glint in his eye. "Please tell me you at least remember the experiment we were halfway through. My academic heart can't take the rejection." He handed me his lab notebook. As I scanned the pages, the procedures felt surprisingly familiar, like a muscle memory I didn't know I had. "I think I remember this," I said, surprised. "I could probably pick it up again in a few days." Leo let out a breath of relief. He smiled, raising his hand as if to pat my head. "What are you doing?" The voice was quiet, but it sliced through the air. I had already flinched away from Leo's hand and was looking past him. Carter stood in the doorway, a faint, unreadable smile on his face. His tone was light, but his eyes were full of shadows. "This is my husband," I explained quickly. Leo just shrugged, completely unfazed. "So?" Carter didn't even give me a second to process the shock. In one fluid movement, he strode forward, grabbed Leo by the back of the head, and slammed his face down into the small sink in my hospital room. "Ah!" Carter looked like such a refined, civilized man. I never would have imagined this capacity for violence. "What's wrong?" Carter asked Leo, his voice deceptively calm. "Just helping you clear your head." He leaned in closer. "Next time you open your mouth, make sure you understand what the word 'husband' means." Then he turned on the faucet. Ice-cold water gushed over Leo's head. His muffled sputtering finally snapped me out of my stupor. Barefoot, I scrambled off the bed and rushed over, grabbing at Carter's arm. "Stop it, Carter! You're not angry anymore, okay? Let him go." He was immovable, his eyes as cold and blank as a frozen lake. I glanced at Leo, who looked like he was about to drown. In a panic, I tugged harder on Carter's arm. "Husband…" I pleaded. He froze. Slowly, he released his grip, his gaze shifting to me, heavy and unreadable. Leo gasped for air, then, like a fool, raised a fist. "You son of a—" I stepped between them, my expression flat. "Leo, you were the one with no boundaries. You can't really complain about getting your ass kicked. Just drop it." He stopped, his fist still in the air. He stared at me, a strange, meaningful look in his eyes. "Chloe," he said slowly, his gaze flickering to Carter. "You should hear someone else's version of your memories." "Do you really think you can trust a story from a single source?" With that, he slumped away, slamming the door behind him. "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?" The menacing aura around Carter had completely vanished. He simply scooped me into his arms and carried me back to the bed. My attention diverted, I momentarily forgot Leo's warning. I looped my arms around his neck, not letting go just yet. Our eyes met, and a slow smile spread across my face. "Husband." The man went perfectly still. "You really like it when I call you that, don't you?" His answer was a kiss, swift and hard, leaving no room for negotiation. His tongue pushed past my lips, demanding entry. By the time he let me go, I was dizzy and breathless. He nipped gently at my lower lip, his voice a low rumble. "Say it again." I could feel the heat radiating from his palm against my back. I decided it was safer to retreat. I looked at him and blinked innocently. My voice was muffled. "Carter." 4 During my stay in the hospital, as I was slowly re-learning who I was, I discovered a problem. Carter and I had never taken wedding photos. One day after my discharge, I finally found some free time and decided to visit him at his office to set a date. "Carter, oh my god, I am so fried. My brain is literally melting. Can I just peace out for the rest of the afternoon? Please?!" I froze in the doorway. A young woman, bright and chirpy as a songbird, was flitting around Carter’s desk. And Carter, sitting in his imposing leather chair, hadn't said yes. But he hadn't told her to back away, either. Suddenly, I felt like I had been blind to a thousand tiny details. The girl looked up then and happened to spot me. Her demeanor changed instantly. She stood up straight, shot me a dismissive glance, and walked out without a word. The moment Carter’s eyes met mine, the cold indifference in them melted into warmth. He came over to me, enveloping my hands in his. "Why are your hands so cold?" He lifted them to his lips, brushing a soft kiss across my knuckles. "Hmm?" he prompted gently. I didn't move. I just stared at him for a long moment before speaking. "Carter." My voice was quiet, steady. "I need you to tell me the truth." I paused, steeling myself for whatever might come next. "Before the accident… did you really love me?" My voice cracked on the last word. "Please, don't lie to me."
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