Aisha stared at Aarav, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and fear.
Married…
before?
To her?
The room felt suddenly too small, too bright, too silent.
"Aarav… what does it mean?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
He just kept looking at the letter—like the words were knives slowly carving through the fog of his lost memories. His hand trembled, gripping the paper too tightly.
"Aarav," she repeated, stepping closer, "say something."
Finally, he lifted his eyes.
And for the first time since she met him…
he looked lost.
"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't remember ever being married before. Not to anyone. Not even to you."
The confession hit her like a stone.
Aisha's heart twisted painfully.
He didn't remember.
He had no memory of her…
or of the life they might have once shared.
She forced herself to stay calm. "Can I… can I see the letter?"
He hesitated. Then slowly, he handed it to her.
Aisha unfolded the page and read:
---
If you are reading this, it means you survived.
It also means you forgot.
Your name is Aarav Black.
You have a wife. Her name is Aisha.
Find her. Protect her. Trust no one else.
You will feel drawn to her even if you don't remember.
That is your instinct remembering what your mind cannot.
– A version of you who didn't have the luxury of forgetting
---
Aisha's hands shook.
This wasn't a joke.
This wasn't a coincidence.
This wasn't a simple contract between strangers.
Aarav had written this to himself.
Aarav had told his future self to find her.
To protect her.
To trust only her.
Her throat tightened painfully.
"Aarav," she whispered, "we were really married?"
He pressed his fingers to his temple, eyes closing as if trying to tear open a door in his mind.
"I don't remember you," he said softly. "But when I saw you the first day… something in me reacted. Like I knew you from somewhere."
Her breath trembled. "You didn't show it."
"I didn't understand it," he whispered. "Still don't."
Aisha's heart beat too fast.
This was too much.
Too sudden.
Too heavy.
"How long ago were we married?" she asked.
"I don't know."
His voice cracked.
"And that terrifies me more than anything."
Silence settled between them—thick, suffocating, filled with unspoken questions.
Finally, Aarav stepped closer.
Close enough that Aisha felt the heat of his body.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said quietly. "If we were married… if I forgot everything we had… I'm sorry."
Her chest tightened.
"It's not your fault," she whispered.
"But it feels like it," he admitted.
The vulnerability in his voice made her heart shake. She had never seen him like this—no cold mask, no controlled posture, no billionaire arrogance. Just a man struggling to grasp pieces of a life that had vanished.
Aisha looked at the letter again.
A version of you who didn't have the luxury of forgetting.
What had happened to him?
Why had he written this warning to himself?
And why did the man at the door know exactly what was in it?
Her thoughts spiraled faster and faster until Aarav reached out and gently touched her wrist.
"Aisha."
She looked up, startled.
He gazed at her with a seriousness that pulled her breath away.
"I want to remember," he said. "I want to know who I was. Who we were."
Her pulse fluttered.
"You want to remember… me?"
"Yes."
His answer came instantly, without hesitation.
She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.
"But," he continued quietly, "I need to know something."
Aisha swallowed. "What?"
He took a slow breath.
"If we were married before… why did I leave you? Why weren't we together when I lost my memory?"
The question sliced cleanly into her, sharp and deep.
Why had he left her?
Had he chosen to?
Or had someone forced him?
Aisha didn't know.
But the doubt hurt.
"I don't know the answer," she whispered. "I didn't even know we were married before."
Aarav looked away, jaw tightening. "Everything keeps circling back to that room."
Aisha stiffened instantly.
The locked room.
The voice calling him.
"You think our past is in there?" she whispered.
"I think…" He paused, voice rough. "Everything I lost is in that room."
A cold shiver ran through her.
Aarav stepped closer again—just a breath away—but this time his touch wasn't accidental or tentative.
He gently cupped her face with both hands.
Her breath caught.
"Aisha," he whispered, "if we were married once… if there was a life between us… I don't want to repeat the same mistakes again."
Her heart thudded painfully hard.
"What do you mean?"
His thumb brushed her cheek.
Soft. Slow. Almost afraid.
"I won't lose you again," he said softly. "Not to the past. Not to the secrets in this house. And definitely not to whoever tried to erase my memory."
Her lips parted.
"Aarav…"
He let his hands fall, as if catching himself before going too far.
"I need time," he said. "To piece this together. To understand everything."
Aisha nodded slowly. "I'll help you."
Aarav stared at her—long, deep, searching.
"I know," he whispered. "You always have."
Her breath hitched again.
But before either of them could say anything more—
BANG.
A loud crash came from the west wing.
The forbidden wing.
Aarav froze.
Aisha's heart stopped.
The voice from last night had returned.
Only this time…
It wasn't whispering.
It was screaming.