Chasing Her

The first thing I remembered was the cold. Then pain. Then nothing.

I opened my eyes to a room too white, too clean. The lights were harsh, the sheets stiff, and my head... throbbing like someone had tried to split it open and sew it back together wrong.

A man sat in the corner, arms folded, face unreadable. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. Too calm for someone sitting beside a wreck like me.

"You're awake," he said, voice deep, detached.

I blinked. "Who... are you?"

He didn't answer right away. Just stood and walked over, his shoes clicking on the tile like a metronome counting down to something I wouldn't like.

"You don't remember anything?"

His tone wasn't hopeful. It was cautious. Careful.

"I don't..." I swallowed. My mouth was dry. "I don't even know my name."

He nodded like he expected that. "You were in an accident. I found you. You've been in a coma for two weeks."

A coma? I looked down at my arms. IV tubes, bruises, bandages.

"You saved me?" I asked.

Something flickered in his eyes, but it vanished too fast.

"You can say that."

"And... my family? Friends?"

His silence was loud.

"We couldn't find anyone. No ID. Nothing."

I stared at him. "So you just... brought me here?"

"I had my reasons." He didn't elaborate.

There was something off about him. Too controlled. He didn't touch me, didn't try to comfort me. Just stood there, arms crossed like I was a project he regretted taking on.

"What's your name?" I asked.

He hesitated. "Elias."

Elias. It fit him-sharp and hard.

"You said you had reasons," I murmured. "What kind of reasons?"

Elias slipped a folded paper out of his coat pocket and placed it on the bedside table.

"A contract."

I stared at it. "What kind of contract?"

His eyes were unreadable. "Be my lover. In public. For one year."

I almost laughed. I couldn't even remember my name, and this stranger wanted me to play house with him?

"Why me?"

He didn't answer. Just looked at me like he was deciding whether I was worth the trouble.

"You need a place to stay. Medical care. And I-" He paused. "I need someone to stand beside me."

"So, I'm just... convenient?"

His jaw clenched. "It's not like that."

"But it is."

Silence settled thick between us. He picked up the pen and placed it beside the paper.

"You don't have to sign it. But if you want to stay, there are rules."

"What rules?"

He didn't blink. "Don't ask questions about the past. Don't try to find who you were. Don't go through my things."

I wanted to scream. But I didn't. I nodded like a fool, because what choice did I have?

The next day, I left the hospital.

His place was like him. Cold. Polished. Not a single photo or plant. Just marble floors, glass walls, and silence.

He gave me a room at the far end of the house.