Beneath his burning passion lies something she never expected.
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Anchana woke with a start of her breath unsteady, the echoes of their fervent night still lingering in her body. Guilt and confusion flooded her chest as she thought of home, of the family waiting for her return.
"How are you feeling?"
His low voice carried a warmth that wrapped around her like velvet. Suraj pulled the blanket aside and drew her gently into his arms.
"You've helped me remember more than I ever thought I could."
He brushed his lips against her temple.
"Why so quiet? Are you hurt?"
When she didn't answer, he felt something wet against his chest—her tears.
"My babe… I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "We didn't talk about this before it happened. I lost control. You were… irresistible."
His voice dropped lower, teasing yet remorseful.
"The way you touched me. It awakened something in me I thought I'd lost."
Anchana shivered, her heart torn between embarrassment and the strange tenderness in his tone.
"I'll take responsibility," he murmured, tightening his hold. "Let's get married." She froze.
"I'm serious," he went on, his tone turning husky, coaxing. "Help me get back on track… tonight."
Her breath hitched as his words brushed against her ear like silk.
"I want to know you…truly know you. Can you handle the intensity between us?"
The question made her heart stumble. Was he always this direct… or was it the part of him he had forgotten to hide?
"Like what?" she finally managed to ask.
He smiled faintly. "Ah, you're talking to me now. Thought you were angry."
Their eyes met — his gaze dark, playful, and dangerous.
"I like to explore," he confessed softly. "Unusual ways, different things. If that frightens you, tell me now. I'd never hurt you."
Anchana frowned, her pulse unsteady. "How would I even know?"
"You were the one who wanted to test me," he said quietly. "So, I'm giving you the truth."
His tone was honest, almost vulnerable. "Living together might teach us if we can really make it work. I'm… a passionate man."
"Obsessed, maybe," she murmured, half teasing, half nervous.
"Perhaps. I work hard—I need to release, often! If that's too much, we shouldn't move forward."
He looked away, his expression flickering with something unreadable. "Losing my memory was a blessing, in a way. It stripped me bare. Now, I only know what feels real."
Anchana swallowed hard. "You're scaring me a little."
He turned to her again, eyes gleaming. "You drive me insane, you know that?"
Her chest tightened under his gaze—so intense, so consuming. Despite herself, she couldn't deny the pull. The memory of his touch still made her tremble.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because when you lose yourself with me… it feels like truth."
She looked away, cheeks burning. "It hurt," she admitted softly.
His brows drew together. "Was it your first time?"
She nodded faintly.
He exhaled, guilt flashing in his eyes. "You should've told me. I would've been gentler."
"You didn't exactly give me a chance," she murmured, a shy smile curving her lips.
He laughed quietly, brushing his fingers across her face. "We'll see a doctor together, just in case. I want you safe."
The warmth in his tone made her chest ache. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist.
"Do you have to go home tonight?" he asked softly. "Stay. Just talk. I promise, I won't do anything you don't want."
Anchana hesitated. "At least let me have an excuse ready. I can't let my family suspect…"
"They already know," he said, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
"What?!"
"I messaged aunt and mother…told them we should get to know each other better."
Her jaw dropped. "That's personal!"
"It's honest," he replied calmly. "Love isn't just emotion—it's understanding. If we marry without knowing we're compatible, you'd be the one getting hurt."
She glared. "So… what you mean is, sex is important to you."
"One hundred percent," he admitted without hesitation. "I need connection and passion."
Anchana studied him, torn between disbelief and fascination. There was a shadow in his eyes—a man piecing together fragments of who he once was.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Most women walked away when they found out I'd lost my memory. Only Nicharat stayed. She knew me… completely. But she's gone now. You're the first to make me feel alive again."
She stared at him, unable to tell whether it was confession or temptation.
"Are you saying…"
"That I crave you," he whispered.
She bit her lip, unsure whether to flee or surrender. "And if I can't handle you?"
"Then tell me. But right now, don't run."
He reached for her, and in that instant, something inside her gave way. The air between them shifted—charged, magnetic, perilously sweet.
The night deepened around them, filled with the rhythm of breaths and unspoken confessions, the sound of two hearts learning to remember together.
But then…
A sharp cry escaped his throat. Suraj's body tensed, his hand clutching his head.
"Ah—my head…!"
Anchana gasped, catching him as he collapsed back onto the bed, trembling. "Suraj!" she stuttered.
At that moment, his memory came rushing back in shards—the flash of headlights, the sound of twisting metal— and then nothing but silence.