Chapter 1 - The First Face I Saw

INDIE

The first thing I noticed was the beeping.

Too steady to be anything natural. Then came the weight in my limbs, the dryness in my throat, and the sharp, sterile smell that only belonged in hospitals. 

My eyelids felt heavy, like someone had stitched them shut with invisible thread. 

When I finally forced them open, the light above me was too bright, forcing me to squint until the white ceiling slowly came into focus.

I was alive.

That realization hit me harder than the ache in my skull. I tried to move my fingers. They twitched. 

My toes responded next. Everything felt sluggish, disconnected, like my body was still deciding whether it wanted to belong to me again.

Then I heard a voice.

“Indie?”

My heart lurched.

I turned my head toward the sound, and the moment my eyes landed on him, the tightness in my chest loosened. 

Jesper Vale sat beside the bed, his dark hair slightly messy, his usual confident expression replaced by something softer or at least what I had always believed was love. 

Beside him stood Liora Quinn, my best friend, her hand resting on the side of the bed rail. Her eyes were glassy, like she had been crying.

They were here.

Both of them.

His face broke into a smile so wide it almost looked painful. 

He reached for my hand immediately, his fingers warm against my cold skin. 

“Hey. You’re awake. God, Indie, you have no idea how long we’ve been waiting.”

Liora leaned in closer, her voice gentle. 

“The doctors said it could take more time. We didn’t know when… or if…” She trailed off, then forced a small smile. 

“But you’re here. You’re really here.”

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. 

Two months. That was how long they told me I had been unconscious. 

Two months of darkness, of machines breathing for me, of people talking over a body that refused to wake up. 

And the first faces I saw were the two people who mattered most.

Jesper squeezed my hand. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for worrying him. I wanted to ask how bad the accident had been, whether anyone else had been hurt, whether he had stayed by my side the entire time. 

The questions piled up in my throat, but something else rose with them.

A quiet, ugly little thought.

How much did he really care?

The idea slid into my mind before I could stop it. Maybe it was the lingering fog from the coma. 

Or maybe it was the small, insecure part of me that had always wondered if I was easy to replace.

I stared at Jesper’s face. 

And then I made a decision that would change everything.

I let my expression go blank.

I blinked slowly, as if the room was still coming into focus, and asked in a soft, confused voice, “Who are you?”

"Indie, stop joking—don't you remember me?"

"No, I don't remember it clearly—but who are you? What happened to me?"

Liora turned toward Jesper, looking puzzled. "Do you really not remember the two of us? I mean, is there nothing at all that you recall?"

And I just shook my head slowly, I felt like it was almost working—they looked worried.

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

For a second—just one second—something unreadable flashed across his face. 

Not panic. Not heartbreak. Something closer to calculation. Then it was gone, replaced by a gentle, almost practiced warmth.

“I’m your best friend, Indie” he said smoothly. “I’m Jesper. We’ve known each other for years.”

My blood turned to ice.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Liora shifted beside him. Jesper reached out and casually pulled her closer to the bed, his hand settling at her waist like it belonged there. 

“And this,” he continued, his voice calm, “is my girlfriend, Liora.”

The beeping of the heart monitor felt suddenly louder.

I stared at them. At the way Liora leaned into his touch without pulling away. At the way Jesper looked at me with patience, like he was explaining something simple to a child. 

Not like a man whose girlfriend of three years had just failed to recognize him.

My pulse hammered against my ribs. Every instinct screamed at me to drop the act, to demand answers, to ask him what the hell he was doing. But the shock held me still. 

The betrayal was so clean, so effortless, that it left me breathless.

Before I could force words out of my mouth, the door opened.

A man stepped inside.

He was tall, dressed in a black coat that looked like it cost more than most people’s monthly rent. 

His presence changed the air in the room instantly—cooler, heavier. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and eyes the color of polished steel. 

He didn’t smile. He didn’t rush forward. He simply stopped a few steps inside the room and looked at me.

Jesper’s expression brightened like someone had flipped a switch.

“Oh, finally,” he said, almost cheerful. 

“Tristan, where have you been? Indie is already awake. And Indie—he’s your boyfriend.”

The name hit the air and stayed there.

Tristan.

Jesper’s closest friend. The one who was always too busy, too rich, too distant to join us for dinner. 

The one Jesper talked about with a mixture of admiration and envy. I had never met him properly. And now he was standing in my hospital room while my boyfriend introduced him as the man I loved.

Tristan’s gaze locked onto mine.

“Her boyfriend?” 

For a fraction of a second, confusion flickered across his face. His brows pulled together slightly, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. 

Then the confusion vanished, replaced by something darker. His eyes moved from me to Jesper, then to Liora, and finally back to me. He didn’t speak. He didn’t correct anyone. He simply watched.

My throat tightened.

Jesper kept talking, his tone light, almost relieved. “She’s still a little confused. The doctors said memory issues are normal after this long. But at least she’s awake, right?”

Liora nodded quickly. “We’ll take care of her. She just needs time.”

I couldn’t look at them anymore. My eyes stayed on Tristan. He hadn’t moved. 

The silence around him felt deliberate, like he was giving

the room a chance to make sense of itself and finding that it refused to.

—