Prologue
They say the soul remembers what the mind forgets.
She didn't remember his name.
Not the sound of his voice, not the shape of his touch, not the way he once said her name like it meant something sacred.
But somewhere deep inside her Amara remembered the ache.
She remembered the pull. The stillness. The feeling that she'd been found.
Even now, in the quiet before dawn, her chest carried a weight she couldn't name. A yearning that didn't belong to this world.
And in her dreams… he came. Always just out of reach.
Eyes like violet storms. A voice like the wind through forgotten ruins.
He would whisper something soft and then vanish before she could answer.
She always woke up gasping. Empty.
As if someone had stolen a piece of her while she slept.
CHAPTER ONE
The lights above buzzed, cold and uncaring. Their flickering glare felt like a joke. It was like they were mocking her while her chest burned with questions she couldn't even ask.
Amara blinked up at the ceiling. Her throat was dry. Her chest felt tight. The air smelled like bleach… and something else. Blood? Fear? She didn't know.
She'd been awake long enough to count the cracks above her. But she still had no idea why she was here. Everything hurt.
A vase of white lilies sat beside her bed. She stared at them, unsettled. She hated lilies. They reminded her of funerals.
A knock came. A nurse stepped in.
"You're awake. That's good. You've been out for almost two days."
"Two days?" Her voice sounded broken. "What happened to me?"
"There was a lightning storm. Someone found you unconscious outside your apartment building..."
Amara blinked. "That's impossible. I don't remember anything."
The nurse stood at the foot of the bed, scribbling something onto a clipboard, her pen scratching softly against paper. "No head injury," she said without looking up. "Your scans are clean. Nothing broken, no trauma. Your body's just reacting like it's been through a shock. But you're stable now."
Amara didn't feel stable. Not even close.
The nurse gave her a soft smile and turned to leave, but paused. "Someone named Mr. Talbot signed your forms and our emergency contact. He said he's your boss?"
Amara nodded slowly. Her eyes drifted to the chair by the window, where a dress lay draped—abandoned, almost carelessly, as if someone had slipped out of it in a rush. Midnight blue. Satin. Thin straps twisted delicately, like vines caught in motion. It was elegant. Undeniably expensive. This wasn't her dress.She would've remembered owning something like that.
In that moment she felt it. A chill, threading up her spine like the touch of cold fingers. A flicker in her chest sharp, brief so electric.
And then his voice soft and low echoing like a secret spoken through walls, brushing the back of her mind.
"Amara."
She shivered. Her breath caught.
Her hand flew to her heart, as though to still it.
As though the sound had reached inside her and pulled.
She didn't know his name, but she remembered his eyes—dark and intense, like they held something ancient. There was a kind of knowing in them, like they carried memories older than time. It made her heart react before her mind could understand.
He hadn't looked at her like a stranger. It was like he recognized her—like she was someone from a dream he couldn't quite place.
There was no surprise in his gaze. Just stillness. Like he'd been searching for her without even knowing it. His eyes didn't wander. They stayed on her, steady and familiar, like her face was something he'd never truly forgotten.
And for a second, she didn't feel like a stranger either. She felt… remembered. Not the way we remember names or places—but like something once loved, once lost, finally found
again.