Chapter 1

Robert's POV 

 

My night had been a blur of passion, fleeting and empty, yet serving its purpose. In a lavish suite high above the city, I had indulged in another meaningless encounter. She was beautiful, confident—a social butterfly who knew exactly what she wanted. Her laughter had echoed in the dimly lit room, her touch bold and inviting. It had been easy, effortless. A temporary escape from the thoughts that refused to leave me.

 

The first hints of dawn crept through the curtains and our fervor subsided into a soft, lingering warmth, my mind betrayed me, drifting back to a memory that refused to be silenced. I shook my head to clear the thought and get lost in the soft warmth. 

 

After about fifteen minutes, the girl got up and went away telling me that she would love to spend more time with me again, I just nodded with a polite smile. 

 

I lay there, the sheets still warm from the girl's presence, yet my mind had already drifted somewhere else—somewhere far from the lingering scent of her perfume. 

 

Even  though the physical memories of the sensual encounter lingered on my skin, my heart was restless—haunted by a vision that refused to fade. I shook my head again but the reality settled over me like a slow tide.

 

I thought of her.

 

Not the woman beside me last night, but the one who had haunted me for almost a year. The one I had seen on the most painful day of my life.

 

The memory of that day was burned into my mind, refusing to fade. It had been the most devastating moment of my life—the day I lost my brother. 

 

I was on the other side of the world taking care of the business when I got my mom's call she was excited that John was getting married, though she was upset that he didn't tell us anything about it earlier and they had to attend the wedding only as guests, she was excited too, eager to meet the woman who had captured his heart.  

 

Being very impulsive, John had decided to marry all of a sudden without informing the family. 

 

Even though I was also upset with that as I would not be there for the wedding, I had immediately booked the first flight home, wanting to be there for my brother’s big day, but that day I returned home for his wedding, only to attend a funeral instead.

 

John had died in a car accident. The shock of it had been overwhelming, a crushing weight I could barely process. And amid the sea of mourners, I had seen her—his bride.

 

My heart became heavy with sorrow and loss, I had come for my brother’s wedding and here I was attending his funeral.  Amid the quiet murmurs of grief and the heaviness of loss, I had seen her— the mysterious bride. 

 

 Among the sea of mourners dressed in black, she had appeared like a vision—delicate, poised, ethereal and yet carrying a sadness that mirrored my own. Her eyes, carried profound sorrow. All the time she didn't even look at anyone. Her gaze fixed on something unseen. 

 

Even in my grief, I couldn’t look away. There was something about her—an air of sadness that ran deeper than the rest of us, as if she carried a pain only she could understand.

 

I could feel her grief and a quiet strength, that had held me captive in a way I couldn’t explain. I hadn’t even known her name, yet her presence had stayed with me, lingering in my thoughts, refusing to fade.

 

I had wanted to speak to her after the funeral, to know more about the woman my brother had married, but she was gone before I had the chance. Just… gone.

 

It had made no sense. She was John’s wife. She should have stayed. My father had told me she had asked for permission to leave, had refused even the inheritance rightfully hers. That had stunned all of us. Any woman in her position would have taken it—she was legally entitled to John’s share of our empire. Yet, she had walked away from it all, leaving nothing behind except questions that had tormented me ever since.

 

Why??  

 

For the first time in my life, I had been drawn to someone so deeply, and it had shaken me to my core. But she was my brother’s wife. 

 

I had tried to push away the feelings, telling myself they were just a reaction to grief, nothing more. 

 

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t longing. It was just… unfinished business. 

 

At least, that’s what I told myself.

 

And my parents? They hadn’t given up either. My father had been trying to track her down, wanting to give her what was rightfully hers. My mother, always one to hope, had even wondered if she might be carrying John’s child. It was a possibility none of us could ignore. If she was, then that child was a part of our family. But every attempt to find her had led to dead ends.

 

She had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but an ache of uncertainty.

 

I threw myself into distractions—endless nights with strangers, fleeting passion, empty conversations. I convinced myself that if I kept going, if I lost myself in casual encounters, I would eventually forget her. But no matter how many times I tried to replace the ache with temporary pleasure, it never worked. Her face, her sorrow-filled eyes, stayed with me.

 

 

Nearly a year had passed, and I was still trapped in the same cycle. Another night, another stranger, another futile attempt to escape the pull she had on me. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the warmth of the woman beside me already fading, I knew the truth. No one else could ever make me forget her.

 

And then, fate intervened.

 

This morning, just as I was coming to terms with another night lost to meaningless passion, I saw her again. 

 

It had been a mere flicker—a muted news broadcast playing in the corner of my suite. But as my eyes drifted to the screen, my heart stopped. There she was. 

 

A feature about a museum, filled with children’s laughter and vibrant colors. And there, in the background, she was standing. Not a fragment of my imagination, not a dream conjured by a grieving mind, but real. Alive. Here, in this very city.

 

The sight of her sent a jolt through me, sharp and undeniable. I sat up, my heart pounding with a realization so clear it left no room for doubt. 

  

Everything else became meaningless. The feeling I had tried so hard to bury roared back to life, undeniable and overwhelming. I sat up, my heart racing. I had spent months pretending she was just a passing obsession, a ghost from my past. But now I know the truth.

 

I had to find her.

 

Because this wasn’t just about curiosity. It wasn’t just about closure.

 

It was about her. And I wasn’t going to let her disappear again.