Chapter 1

Dahlia

Seven years.

That's how long I've been married to the man sitting across from me in this amazing restaurant, cutting his steak with the ease of someone who has nothing to worry about.

The candles between us flicker softly, their light reflecting off the crystal glasses and bright faces of my husband, Noah and our daughter, Ellen. Everything looks perfect. The kind of perfection we usually get in the happy ending of a movie.

Ellen hums cheerfully beside me, swinging her legs under her chairs as she counts the cherry tomatoes on her plates.

“Mummy, daddy said today is special.” She grins from ear to ear.

“It is,” I say softly, “Very special.”

Noah lifts his glass, “Seven years,” he says warmly, “I still remember you burned the chicken on our first anniversary.”

I burst out in laughter. That explains the reason why we've never spent our anniversary in our house after that night. The first and the last time, I would say.

“You ate it anyway.” I counter.

“I was in love” he says simply, eyes soft as they meet mine. His words land on my skin like the warmest blanket.

Ellen giggles, “Daddy eats everything mommy makes.”

“That's because mommy is the best.” he says, reaching out to brush her hair affectionately.

I watch them from my seat, tears almost falling out but somehow the sight twists something inside me. Anyone looking at us would see a happy family. A lucky woman blessed with a devoted man. A child born into a lovely and warm home.

No one would ever guess I don't remember how all this began. I don't remember dating him. I don't remember falling in love or a wedding. I don't remember spending the night with him to have Ellen.

Instead, I remember the night I woke up in his arms on a very strange bed, my body aching and my head heavy.

‘You're my wife.’ he'd said like he was reminding me and not throwing something new in my face. ‘You were in an accident. You're pregnant…. The doctors said the memory loss is temporary.’

There wasn't a reason to not believe him. He knew my name, favourite foods and things I didn't know about myself like the death of my parents and my twin sister. There were photographs of me and Noah smiling and happy, but no wedding photos.

He said we had a secret marriage. He showed me legal documents of our marriage and there was a shiny ring already snug on my finger.

And when I placed my hands on my belly, I felt a faint flutter of life beneath my skin.

Ellen.

Who questions a man who holds your entire life in his hands? Who brings you peace and happiness?

“Dahlia,” he calls out gently.

I blink, realising I've been staring too long. “Yes?”

He narrows his eyes, “You disappeared on me. What's wrong?”

A strong scent evokes my nostrils, flashing my head with vague memories. Pictures of a man whose face is unclear floods my mind.

“You're not feeling well. Let's go home.” He rises from his seat.

Ellen's eyes flicker over me, a quiet tension tightening her expression.

“No, I'm okay. Let's finish up the meal.” I widen my lips and return back to my meal, worried that one look at him would give everything away.

What if he sees the crack in me? I can't ruin today because of a headache.

Ellen's concern washes off and she returns back to her meal as well. As for Noah, he is not yet convinced.

“Daddy, mummy is fine. Right,mummy? You wouldn't lie to us.” Unease creeps into her eyes as it meets mine.

Finally, I raise my head to Noah, “If something happens I'll let you know. You don't have to worry about anything.”

Even with my words, he won't sit. His eyes keep moving, skimming faces and when it lands on the corridor, it hangs there. He stays stiff. No one looks dangerous here, yet he acts like danger is already here.

“Mummy, I want to use the restroom.” Ellen pleads.

“No!” He says sharply, then softens his tone.

“We'll be home in minutes. You just have to hold it in. Okay?”

Unease tightens around my skin. The desperation to leave makes everything strange. I hesitate, my eyes lifting to his, searching for a reason he doesn't give away.

“Darling… is there a problem?”

“No,” he quickly replies.

“Mummy… I want to pee,” she says anxiously, shuffling her feet.

I wrap my hands around Ellen and I take her to the waiter who I ask to show me to the restroom.

The waiter points to the corridor, “At the end of the hallway, you'll find the restroom.”

My heart falters. Noah has been staring this way too long, and now I'm feeling like there's something there.

Is there danger in the hallway which I can't sense?I look back at him and his face pales.

Pushing off my paranoid thoughts, I swing my head forward and take Ellen to the hallway.

As we walk through the hallway, the scent grows stronger, crashing into me like a strong wave.

It's not like I wasn't used to getting scents. It's the nature of a wolf to pick up scents everywhere they go. It's just this particular scent brings me back to the memories I thought were no longer there.

Unaware of the things around me, a door bumps open at my side. I move to make space for the person leaving the room.

My head splits.

“Helen.” A voice calls out.

Flashes of people's faces crash in my head. My head is spinning. My hand curls around Ellen and before we could walk out, a hand grabs mine.

I tried to look but my vision blurs. This is a terrible headache.

“She's not Helen.” Noah’s voice comes from behind, "You were never good at telling them apart.”

Noah's hands move around my waist, clenching its side. His touch steadies me yet unsettles me.

“Are you insulting me, brother? I know who I'm looking at.” The stranger yet somehow familiar man scoffs.

I force my vision to focus, blinking past the pounding in my skull. The stranger who just called Noah ‘brother’, is tall, broad shouldered, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. His blue eyes just like Noah and Ellen's lock on my face with an intensity that makes my chest tighten.

“You're seeing my wife,” Noah replies, tightening his hold on me, “Dahlia.”