Selene's POV
I did not sleep.
The check sat on my nightstand. Three thousand dollars. Made out to Selene Hawthorne. Signed by Asher Vale.
My husband's name on paper that proved he was alive. He had looked at me without knowing me and offered to save me from a danger that did not exist.
Except the danger did exist. Just not the one I invented.
Lucien.
At eight, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number. Want to try that coffee?
I typed back: Corner Cafe. 9am.
He was already there. Two cups in front of him. He remembered how I took my coffee. Latte, extra foam, cinnamon.
"You guessed," I said, sitting down.
"I watched you order yesterday." He pushed the cup toward me. "Before the landlord interrupted."
Relief. He did not remember. He observed.
"What's his name?" Asher asked.
I hesitated.
"You don't know his name," he said quietly. "You hide from him. Panic when he shows up. But you don't know his name."
"Of course I do. It's Mark."
Asher nodded slowly. "And Mark collects rent in person. No bank transfer. Just cash."
"Some landlords are old fashioned."
"Selene. I lost ten years of my life. But I didn't lose my instincts. You're lying."
I held his gaze. "Why would I lie about my landlord?"
"I don't know. But I'd like to."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipped to a small photograph tucked behind plastic.
A garden. Walled. Private. A fountain. Roses climbing stone walls. A bench beneath an old oak tree.
My breath caught. I had married him there.
"Where did you get this?"
"I found it after my accident." He stared at the photo. "The doctors said it must be important. I don't remember why."
He looked up. "Do you recognize it?"
I could tell the truth. Should tell the truth.
But the truth would break him.
"It's a garden," I said carefully. "You painted there once. I gave you that photo as a reference."
"You gave me this?"
"I was your friend. I wanted to help your work."
He traced the fountain with his finger. "I dreamed about this place. You were crying. A man's voice said 'Forget her. She's poison.'"
My blood turned cold. Lucien's voice. In his head.
"Asher. The accident. Do you remember anything about it?"
"Nothing. Just woke up with no past." He smiled bitterly. "Like being born at twenty eight."
"A nurse mentioned someone paid for my care. Anonymously. When I asked who, she got nervous."
Lucien. Paying for his care. Controlling his recovery.
The cafe door opened.
Lucien walked in.
He saw us. The photo on the table. His eyes went straight to it. Recognition. Satisfaction.
"Selene." His voice smooth as oil. "I looked for you last night."
"I had company."
Lucien looked at Asher. "So I see."
Asher did not move. "You're the landlord. Mark, right?"
A pause. Then Lucien's smile. Slow. Dangerous. "Ah. Mark. Yes. I'm the landlord."
"Three thousand a month seems steep."
"Location." Lucien sat down uninvited. "Selene has always wanted the best locations."
He turned to Asher. "You look familiar. Have we met?"
"No."
"Strange. There was a story about a painter. Married into a wealthy family. Then he disappeared." Lucien's voice was casual. Poison wrapped in politeness. "The wife never recovered."
Asher frowned. "I don't remember that."
"No, I don't suppose you would." Lucien stood. "Selene, a word. Privately."
He walked to the back. Waited.
"Don't go," Asher said quietly.
"I have to."
"Why?"
Because he owns me. Because he controls everything.
"I can't afford not to," I whispered.
I followed Lucien.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said.
"The garden. The coffee. The way you look at him." He stepped closer. "He doesn't remember you. He's a blank slate. I will not let you write on it."
"He came to me."
"Then send him away."
"I can't."
Lucien's eyes hardened. "I erased him once. I can do it again. Permanently."
My heart stopped. "You wouldn't."
"One more accident. One more fall. One more painter who never recovers."
I wanted to scream. But screaming would not save Asher.
"What do you want?"
"For you to remember your place." He straightened my collar. "He's alive because I allowed it. He stays alive as long as you stay away. Understood?"
I nodded.
"Good girl. Now go say goodbye."
He disappeared through the back exit.
I walked back to the table.
Asher looked up. "You're pale. What did he say?"
"Nothing." I reached for my bag. "I have to go."
"Selene." He caught my wrist. "What just happened?"
I looked at his hand on my skin. Warm. Familiar. The last touch I might ever feel.
"I can't see you again."
He went still. "Why?"
"Because it's not safe."
"I don't care about safe."
"You should." I pulled free. Stood. "Destroy that photo. Forget you ever met me."
"That's not going to happen."
I turned. Walked toward the door.
"Selene."
I looked back.
He held up the photo. Our garden.
"I don't remember this place," he said. "But I know whatever happened there wasn't just a painting reference. People don't carry photos of gardens for years. People don't dream about places they've never seen."
He pressed his hand to his chest. "I feel this ache. Like something's missing. Like someone's missing."
I could not breathe.
"I'm going to find the truth. With or without you. But I'd rather have you."
Tears burned my eyes.
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Then tell me."
I should have told him everything. But Lucien's words echoed. He's alive because I allowed it.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't."
I walked out.
The door closed behind me.
I made it half a block before I stopped. Leaned against a building. Pressed my hand to my mouth.
And cried.
Asher's POV
He watched her go. Watched her shoulders shake.
Every instinct screamed to follow. To hold her.
But he did not know her. Did not remember her.
He looked down at the photo. The garden. The fountain. The bench.
And in his mind, a whisper. A woman's voice.
I will wait for you here. Always.
He did not know what it meant.
But as Selene disappeared around the corner, he whispered to the empty cafe.
"Who were you to me?"