DAMIEN'S POVThe clench in my gut was so tight it felt like a knot of barbed wire, twisting and tearing. Disgust. That’s what it was. A bitter, metallic taste coating my tongue, not from the expensive champagne I’d been offered, but from the depths of my own self-loathing.I stared at my reflection in the polished surface of the grand ballroom’s marble pillar, barely recognizing the man staring back. My jaw was tight, my eyes shadowed. I had stooped so low, lower than I ever thought possible. I was becoming the very person I’d once despised, the kind of person I’d always accused Adrian of being – selfish, manipulative, willing to hurt others for my own gain. My fists, already clenched at my sides, tightened further until my knuckles gleamed white.It was done. The order had been given, a discreet sum passed under the table to a server with eyes like a lizard and a smile that promised discretion. The drugged wine. Adrian had just taken it. A cold wave of panic, sharp and immediate, wa
ADRIAN'S POVThe final notes of the waltz faded into the opulent air, leaving behind a shimmering echo of strings and a soft flutter of applause. Gayle, a vision in crimson and gold, leaned ever so slightly into my arm, her smile a beacon that outshone the ballroom’s chandeliers. I felt the familiar weight of the laurel crown on my blond hair, a delicate golden circlet that seemed to hum with the lingering magic of our dance. My suit, a deep maroon edged with intricate gold embroidery, felt less like fabric and more like a second skin, perfectly mirroring the rich, shimmering flow of Gayle’s gown.“You were magnificent, Adrian,” she whispered, her voice a warm caress against the hush of the room.“Only because I had the most magnificent partner,” I replied, my voice a little deeper than usual, trying to sound as regal as I felt. It was easy to get swept up in the fantasy. Here I was, Adrian Gabriel Raines, a man who usually spent his days poring over corporate reports, walking side-b
DAMIEN'S POVThe snow outside Adrian’s window was a gentle whisper against the glass, but inside me, a storm raged. My knuckles were white, clutching the steering wheel of my parked car, the engine off, the air thick with my silent fury. Just moments ago, I’d watched Gayle, open the door to his house. Nothing unusual there, not really. But then, another man had stepped in, a stranger with a confident smile entered Adrian’s sanctuary.My breath hitched. Who was he? Why was he there? My mind reeled back to a time when I was the one Adrian welcomed inside without a second thought, the one whose presence was a silent understanding. Now, I was reduced to a voyeur, a shadow across the street, watching my past slip further from my grasp.It took a Herculean effort, a crushing weight of self-control, to stop myself from storming across the street, pounding on that door, and demanding answers. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to intervene, to protect Adrian, even though I knew the prote
ADRIAN'S POVThe world outside my window was a masterpiece of winter’s artistry, each snowflake a delicate brush stroke against the muted grey sky. I was precisely where I wanted to be: cocooned in my favorite oversized knit sweater, my feet tucked into fleece-lined slippers, a well-worn copy of ‘Saber’ resting open on my lap. The ceramic mug cradled in my hands warmed my palms, its rich, dark cocoa aroma mingling with the faint scent of old paper. A classical instrumental played low on the stereo, just enough to fill the quiet without being intrusive. This was my sanctuary, my perfect Saturday afternoon.Suddenly, a gust of frigid air pierced the cozy calm, making the sheer curtains billow as the front door swung open with a resounding thwack. My peaceful reverie shattered, I nearly sloshed hot cocoa onto my book. Before I could even register what was happening, a whirlwind of vibrant energy materialized in my living room.Gayle.She practically bounced through the threshold, a wide,
ADRIAN'S POVThe purr was barely a whisper, a vibrating reassurance against my palm. The tiny creature, swaddled in a clean white towel, twitched its whiskers, its patched-up leg bandaged neatly. “You did it, buddy,” I mumbled, my voice rough with relief. “You’re going to be okay.”A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump. “See? I told you she’d pull through.” Damien. His voice was a low rumble, always too close, too certain. From the moment he’d appeared in my life, a few weeks ago, he’d been an unsettling presence. I’d found him creepy. He seemed to materialize out of nowhere wherever I went—the grocery store, the park, even the small, independent bookstore where I spent my mornings. He’d insistence that we were "best friends," that we used to be "inseparable," felt like a bad joke. My mind, a blank slate before I’d arrived in Norway with my freshly-minted identity of Gabe, offered no familiarity. All I had was the fragmented advice from the doctor
DAMIEN'S POV“Mr. Dickins, while memory loss isn’t my primary specialization, I have studied various aspects of the human mind,” Dr. Ellis began, choosing his words carefully. “Sometimes, in cases of extreme psychological trauma or distress, our brain’s defense mechanisms kick in. It’s a radical form of self-preservation. To avoid distressing memories, the mind simply… erases them. Or, more accurately, blocks access to them. It’s a way for the psyche to protect itself from overwhelming pain, from a reality it deems too unbearable to confront.”My hands, resting on my thighs, instinctively clenched. My fists tightened, nails digging into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped indentations. I knew. God, I knew. I was the distressing memory. I was the source of that overwhelming pain. My mind reeled, a torrent of vivid, agonizing flashbacks assailing me.I remembered Adrian, his face pale and drawn, "Do you know how painful it is for me every time I know that you're with someone