Hae-Jae’s POV
“But seriously… why would you find a random woman unconscious on the road, bring her into your home, and then take her to a high-profile event?” Raymond’s voice cut through the silence of my office like a blade. I didn’t look up. I kept my eyes on the stack of paperwork in front of me, but his words struck deeper than I cared to admit. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. “She’s playing games with you, man,” he added, chuckling dryly. “You don’t even know her.” I set my pen down slowly and finally lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes with a calm, deliberate stare. “You don’t speak about a woman like that,” I said, voice low but firm. Raymond raised a brow, glancing around like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then he laughed again—short, mocking. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me she’s actually gotten to you.” I exhaled, jaw tightening. He had no idea. Anna wasn’t just anyone. She was a haunting I couldn’t shake. A secret that clawed at my chest every time I looked at her. A past that fate had tied to my present in a way I couldn’t explain—even to myself. And the truth? The truth was I was the one being played. Not by her—but by destiny. By memory. By guilt. The part of me that still burned with questions and regret whispered that maybe—just maybe—my prayers had been heard. Because when she woke up… She didn’t remember everything. Not the pain. Not the betrayal. Not… me. That should have made it easier. Cleaner. But it didn’t. Raymond scoffed. “Whatever. Just don’t drag personal drama into business. Anna shouldn’t even be a topic of conversation in this office.” He gestured at the space around us. “This is a boardroom, not a damn lounge for woman problems.” I turned my gaze back to the papers. “Exactly,” I said, coolly. “So maybe you should stop talking like it is.” He stood abruptly. I didn’t need to look up to know his temper was flaring. I could feel it radiating off him. “At least take this advice home,” he muttered sharply. “Don’t get caught up with some girl you found near a river. You don’t know what she’s hiding.” Then he hissed under his breath and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed was heavy. Too heavy. I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. My chest ached, my head buzzed. Anna. Her name alone stirred things I couldn’t control. And then the memory hit me. Hard. Uninvited. That night. Her broken body. The blood. The sound of her voice when she whispered, “Why?” A deep, guttural groan escaped my throat before I could stop it—raw, full of frustration and helplessness. I hadn’t meant to let it out. But it was too late. It echoed in the quiet room like a confession I didn’t know how to take back. The groan that left me echoed in the silence, and for a moment… I hated myself for it. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not again. I stood slowly, moving toward the window. My reflection met me in the glass—sharp suit, calm eyes, expressionless face. But behind it... chaos. I pressed my palm against the glass. “Why did it have to be her?” I whispered to no one. But I knew the answer. Fate has a cruel sense of humor. When I pulled her out of that river, I thought she was a stranger. Just another soul that fate had tossed my way. But the moment I looked into her face, soaking wet and lifeless… It was her. Anna. The woman I failed to save once already. The woman who didn’t remember me now. And maybe that was a blessing. Because if she remembered what I did… If she remembered the part I played in her suffering… She would never let me near her again. I turned away from the window, pacing across the office like the walls were closing in. I remembered the first time I saw her—not at the river. Years ago. Before Max. Before the ring. Back when she was just a woman sitting alone in a cafe, reading a worn-out poetry book like she didn’t care if the world burned around her. I watched her from across the room. She had this light in her eyes. Soft. Warm. Like she still believed in kindness. I didn’t approach her. I was afraid. Afraid she’d look up and see the darkness in me. So I let her go. And Max found her instead. I should have stopped it. I should have said something. But I was too late. Always too late. And now, the universe had dumped her back into my life. Broken. Hurt. Half-dead. And I was supposed to pretend this was a coincidence? No. This was a second chance. A cruel, undeserved second chance I didn’t know what to do with. A soft knock tapped against the door. I turned, masking everything behind a smooth expression. “Come in.” It was Mira, Anna’s assistant. “Mr. Hae-Jae,” she said carefully, “Miss Anna is asking for you. She said… she just wants to talk.” My chest tightened. I nodded. “I’ll be there.” She left quietly, and I stood frozen for a moment. Talk. If she ever remembered… Would I be ready to tell her the truth? Would she forgive me? Or would she look at me the way she looked at him—like a stranger who helped destroy her? I ran a hand down my face and grabbed my suit jacket. Whatever this was, whatever it meant— I wasn’t walking away this time.Anna POV The soft click of the apartment door closing behind me was the loudest sound I had ever heard. It was a full stop. An ending.I stood frozen in the hallway, my small duffel bag hanging from my numb fingers, half-expecting—half-hoping—for the door to fly open again. For him to run after me, to stop me, to tell me we would figure it out, that nothing was more important than this.The door remained shut.A sob welled up in my throat, and I choked it back, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth. I couldn't break down here. Not in this hallway that smelled of our neighbor's cooking and the faint, floral scent of the floor polish we both hated. I had to move.I made it to the elevator and pressed the button, my entire body trembling. The descent felt like it took a lifetime. When the doors slid open into the pristine, cold lobby, I walked through it like a ghost, not seeing the doorman's nod, not feeling the cool evening air on my skin.I hailed a cab and gave my sister’s addres
Anna POV The car ride home was a mausoleum of silence. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional, jarringly cheerful voice from the radio before Hae-Jae reached over and snapped it off. He kept his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I stared out the passenger window, watching the city blur past, seeing nothing.The moment we stepped into the apartment, the tension solidified, filling the space we usually called our sanctuary."I'm going to make some tea," I said, my voice unnaturally loud in the quiet. I needed a task, something to do with my hands."Okay," he replied, his tone flat. He didn't move from the doorway, just watched me walk to the kitchen.I filled the kettle, the rush of water the only sound. I could feel his gaze on my back."So that's it?" he finally said. "You're just not going to talk to me?"I set the kettle down on the stove with a thud and turned to face him. "What do you want me to say, Hae-Jae? You've made your
Anna POV The silence in the apartment was a physical presence, thick and heavy. I stood frozen in the kitchen, listening to the definitive click of Hae-Jae’s studio door. It was a sound I usually loved—the sound of him creating, of losing himself in the music that was as much a part of him as his breath. Now, it felt like a dismissal.The two full mugs of coffee sat on the counter, steam long vanished. I picked one up, the ceramic cold against my palm, and poured the contents down the sink. The dark liquid swirled, a bitter drain. I did the same with his.I had to move. I grabbed a cloth and started wiping down the already-clean counters, my movements sharp, jerky. The domestic peace of last night felt like a dream from a decade ago.After what felt like an eternity, but the clock insisted was only twenty minutes, I heard the studio door open. His footsteps were slow in the hall. He appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked exhausted.“I’m sorry
Anna POV The soft glow of the phone screen seemed to burn in the darkness long after it faded. It's important. Those two words, so seemingly benign, were a masterclass in manipulation. They were a hook, expertly baited with ambiguity and urgency. I knew Hae-Jae would feel their pull the moment he saw them.He stirred beside me, a deep, sleepy murmur, and instinctively pulled me closer. His body was a furnace of sleep and spent passion, completely unaware of the fresh crack that had just appeared in our foundation. I lay rigid in his arms, my mind racing, tracing frantic, fearful paths. What could be so important? A real crisis? Or just the usual, engineered drama designed to reel him back in?Sleep was impossible. Every minute that ticked by on the glowing clock felt like a countdown. When the first grey light of dawn finally began to bleed through the blinds, I carefully, slowly, extracted myself from his embrace. He didn't stir, lost in a depth of sleep the text message would soon
Anna POV The name hung in the air between us, a specter at our feast. Sandra.The warm, cocooned intimacy of a moment before evaporated, leaving a sudden, brittle chill. Hae-Jae was still, his body rigid against mine. He wasn't looking at me; his gaze was fixed on the dark screen of his phone as if it might come to life again with a venomous bite.My own heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, so loud I was sure he must feel it. The cozy blanket felt suffocating. I slowly extricated myself from his side, the loss of his warmth immediate and profound."Did she leave a voicemail?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral. I didn't want to sound accusatory, or scared, though I was both.He shook his head, a short, tight movement. Finally, he looked at me, and the easy warmth in his eyes had been replaced by a guarded shadow. "No. Just the missed call."He placed the phone back on the coffee table, screen down, a deliberate gesture. But the damage was done. Sandra had reached into our livin
Anna POV The kitchen was warm, filled with the golden light of a dying afternoon. I leaned against the doorframe, watching Hae-Jae. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a small army of poorly julienned carrots on the cutting board before him."Admiring your handiwork?" I asked.He jumped, then shot me a look. "They're rustic.""I think the word you're looking for is 'victimized'." I pushed off the doorframe and walked over, my socked feet quiet on the tiles. I reached for the knife. "Here. Let the professional show you."He relinquished it with a sigh, his fingers brushing mine. A simple touch, but it sent a familiar, warm current up my arm. "They never look like this when you do it.""That's because I possess a mystical, ancient power called 'knife skills'." I took a fresh carrot and began, the steady thump-thump-thump a quiet rhythm in our kitchen. Our kitchen. The thought still sent a little thrill through me.He moved behind me, his chin hooking over my shoulder, his arms wrap