Chapter 1

A devastating fire left me in a coma from severe oxygen deprivation. When I woke up, my vision was badly damaged — and i had retrograde amnesia.

Back home, a handsome, gentle man took my hand and told me he was my fiancé. That we have been together for three years.

Wedding photos covered the walls. A thick journal full of love letters sat on my nightstand. Even my parents sang his praises — almost desperately so.

I almost believed him. I almost convinced myself I'd simply forgotten the true love of my life.

Then one night, I was feeling my way down the hallway to the bathroom when I reached out toward the full-length mirror —

And felt another pair of hands pressing back from the other side of the glass.

0I walked home with bandages over my eyes and a white cane tapping the ground ahead of me — back to the place I hadn't seen in six months.

Six months ago, a fire tore through my apartment building. It didn't just destroy my studio. It burned away the last three years of my meories.

Severe carbon monoxide poisoning, the doctors said. It caused retrograde amnesia and damaged my optic nerves. Right now, My vision is so limited that I can barely see anything beyond a blurry shape half a meter away. The whole world looks like a frosted window — everything reduced to heavy, shapeless smears.

I pushed open the front door. A familiar scent of sandalwood hit me immediately.

I took a slow, deep breath. Some of the tension in my shoulders eased.

At least that hadn't changed.

"Claire, slow down — there's a step right here."

A low, gentle voice sounded close to my ear. Then a pair of large, warm hands settled steadily at my waist.

My body went rigid. I instinctively pulled back.

"What's wrong?" A carefully measured note of hurt crept into his voice. "Still not get used to me touching you?"

I bit my lip. I didn't know what to say.

His name was Sebastian.

My parents had introduced him as my fiancé. They said we'd been together for three years, that we'd been planning to get our marriage certificate next month.

But I had twenty-six years of memories — the ones before the fire, at least — and in every single one of them, I had been completely, firmly, anti-marriage. I remembered screaming at my parents over it, remembered packing my bags and moving out on my own just to get away from the constant pressure to settle down.

So how did I suddenly have a fiancé I'd been with for three years?

"Sebastian, Claire just got out of the hospital — her mind is still foggy. Please be patient with her." My mother's voice drifted in from the living room, carrying a strange, careful quality. Like she was walking on eggshells.

"Don't worry mom." Sebastian let out a soft laugh and gently took the white cane from my hand. "I'll take good care of her."

He guided me inside with one arm loosely around me, then eased me down onto the couch.

"Mom — where's Dad?" I looked around, seeing nothing but a few vague blobs of color.

"Your father is... he's resting in the bedroom. He hasn't been feeling well lately. Gets tired easily." Her voice sounded dry. Tight. There was a faint tremor underneath it.

A soft clack — the sound of glass meeting a hard surface.

"Mom, you filled it too high." Sebastian's voice stayed warm, but I caught the sharp way my mother sucked in her breath.

"Sorry, sorry — I'll get you another one." She hurried away, footsteps quick and uneven.

I sat on the couch and felt the wrongness settle deeper into my chest.

My mother had always been a strong woman. Demanding, critical, hard to please. Every friend I'd ever brought home had fallen short of her standards. So why was she acting like this around a man who was supposedly about to become her son-in-law? Why did she seem almost afraid of him?

"Claire. Here." Sebastian pressed a glass of water into my hand.

His fingers brushed slowly across my knuckles — deliberately, I thought. My skin crawled.

"Thank you." I lowered my head and drank, using it as an excuse to hide my face.

"The doctors said your vision will come back gradually. Don't be scared." He sat down beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath near my ear. "Until then, I'll be your eyes."

I didn't answer. I just held the glass tighter.

The doctors had said that. My optic nerve damage was temporary — once the pressure from the swelling went down, my sight would return.

What I hadn't told anyone was that since yesterday, the blur had already started to lift.

I could almost make out Sebastian's face now. The shapes were sharpening into features.

It was a strikingly handsome face.

And it was completely, utterly, a face I didn't recognize.

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