CHAPTER FIVE — THE WARNING IN HIS BONES

CHAPTER FIVE — THE WARNING IN HIS BONES

Dawn seeped into St. Haven’s like a reluctant confession pale, cold, and too honest.

Liana stood by the window, watching the weak sunlight stain the clouds. She had barely slept. Not because of exhaustion, but because Adrian had slept too deeply.

Too peacefully.

Too trusting.

Dangerous signs in a man who once had a heart made of locked doors.

Behind her, he stirred.

She didn’t turn.

She didn’t move.

She simply waited.

The moment he woke

the exact second reality touched him

she heard it.

The shift.

A sharp inhale, sudden and panicked, like a man jolting awake from a nightmare.

Then

“Liana?”

Her name cracked in the air like breaking glass.

She still didn’t turn.

His breathing hitched. She could hear the bedsheets rustle, hear the IV lines strain as he tried to sit up too fast.

“Liana!”

There it was.

Full desperation.

Full instinct.

She turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see her profile.

Instantly, his shoulders sagged.

His entire body unwound, as if strings tied to his ribs had been cut.

“You were gone,” he said, voice hoarse. “I woke up and you weren’t”

“I’m right here,” she replied simply.

Even from across the room, she saw his eyes close in relief.

Not normal relief.

Not the gratitude of patient to caretaker.

Something darker.

Possessive.

Instinctual.

As if her mere existence stabilized the world around him.

She walked back to his bedside, not hurriedly, but with the calm of someone who already knew the outcome. His hand rose automatically, reaching for her like gravity like inevitability.

She let him take her wrist.

His pulse slowed the moment he touched her.

He exhaled quietly. “Don’t leave without telling me.”

“You were asleep,” she said.

“I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes sharp, dark, unsettlingly honest.

“Tell me anyway.”

Her breath stilled.

This man this version of Adrian was more dangerous than the man who destroyed her in her past life.

Because he was vulnerable.

And obsession born from vulnerability was the deepest kind.

A soft knock interrupted the moment.

Dr. Lima stepped in, holding a chart, eyes immediately flicking to the sight of Adrian clutching Liana like she was anchored to him by invisible chains.

“Good morning,” the doctor said cautiously. “How are we feeling?”

Adrian didn’t look away from her.

“Fine. Now.”

Dr. Lima cleared his throat, awkward. “Mrs. Jin, may I speak with you?”

Liana nodded but Adrian’s grip tightened.

“Let go,” she said gently.

He obeyed but reluctantly, fingers trailing her skin as if memorizing the temperature.

When she stepped aside with the doctor, she felt Adrian’s gaze follow her like a touch.

The doctor waited until they were in the corner of the room before speaking.

“What I’m about to say is… delicate.”

Liana’s expression didn’t change. “Go on.”

“Mr. Jin’s amnesia is not typical.”

The doctor adjusted his glasses, lowering his voice.

“It’s unstable. His brain is desperately trying to latch onto something familiar. Someone familiar.”

She said nothing.

“Right now,” the doctor continued, “that someone is you.”

Liana’s fingers curled around her purse strap.

“I see.”

“He reacts strongly when he can’t locate you. Panic, spikes in heart rate, agitation. In extreme cases, he could experience emotional flashbacks or irrational fixation.”

Liana raised an eyebrow. “Fixation?”

“Yes,” Dr. Lima said gravely. “In patients with unstable memory loss, attachment can become… exaggerated.”

She almost smiled.

Exaggerated was one word for it.

Weaponizable was a better one.

“Mrs. Jin, I need to warn you.”

The doctor leaned closer.

“His brain is rebuilding its identity right now. Whoever he anchors to in this period will shape his emotional pathways going forward.”

“So you’re saying,” she murmured, “that if I walk away”

“His recovery could collapse,” the doctor finished. “Or he may fixate more intensely, to the point of emotional dependence.”

Liana tilted her head, absorbing this quietly.

Dependence.

From the man who once sentenced her to prison.

Fate was folding in on itself.

“This is temporary, of course,” the doctor added. “Once his memories return”

Liana’s gaze sharpened.

“Will they return?”

The doctor hesitated.

“We… don’t know.”

Her pulse slowed.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Adrian was watching her.

Watching like she was the only stable thing in a world that had been shattered.

His hand rested lightly on the bed, palm open—subtle, but unmistakably waiting for her return.

Waiting like a vow.

Liana turned back to the doctor.

“I understand,” she said softly.

The doctor nodded and excused himself.

She walked back to Adrian’s bedside.

He straightened immediately, eyes brightening, tension melting out of his shoulders.

His hand reached toward her without hesitation.

She placed her fingers in his palm.

His relief was instant.

Warm.

Visceral.

Possessive.

“Don’t talk to doctors without me anymore,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I don’t like it.”

His gaze dropped to their joined hands.

“I don’t like anything that takes you away from me.”

Her heart didn’t soften.

But her smile did sharpen.

Like a knife being polished.

“Adrian,” she said, her voice smooth as silk, “what exactly am I to you?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest—right above his heartbeat.

His eyes didn’t waver.

“You’re the only thing I know.”

Her breath stilled.

Ah.

There it was.

The beginning of obsession.

The seed of the man he would become.

But this time, she would be the one writing the ending.

She sat down beside him.

And Adrian Jin, who had destroyed her in one life, relaxed like a man returned to safety.

Rain began again outside.

Soft. Steady.

Like the world marking the moment fate shifted.

“This life…” Liana whispered under her breath as his fingers laced with hers,

“…the story answers to me.”