Chapter1 - First Meeting
On Valentine’s Day night, the city streets were alive with couples, love hanging thick in the air like a heady perfume.
Elena, however, was driving home alone after a quiet dinner with her colleagues.
Beep, beep—
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, already knowing who it was. With a resigned sigh, she answered, putting it on speaker.
“Mom, I’m driving. Can we talk when I get home?” She didn’t even need to guess why her mother was calling on a night like this.
A teasing voice came through the line. “Elena, by the time you get home, you’ll say too tired. Let’s talk now.”
Elena chuckled awkwardly. “Do you really know your daughter that well?”
“Of course. Now tell me—did you get any flowers today? Any promising men in your life?”
Flowers? Sure. Male friends? Plenty. Potential boyfriends? None.
“Mom, I’m focused on my career. There’s no rush.”
Her mother sighed dramatically. “Elena, you’re not getting any younger. You’ve never even been in love before!”
Love didn’t happen like in movies—you didn’t just bump into a man on the street and fall head over heels. If only her mother understood that.
“Mom, I know, I know,” she said, trying to end the conversation. “I really have to go. We’ll talk later—”
Out of nowhere, a dark figure darted into the street.
Elena’s heart lurched. Shit. Her foot slammed on the brake, but—
BANG! The impact echoed in the night.
Her breath hitched. A terrible chill spread through her veins. Did I just hit someone?
“Elena?” Her mother’s voice crackled through the phone.
Elena was frozen, her fingers gripping the wheel so tightly they ached.
“I—I have to go,” she stammered before hanging up.
Her hands trembled as she unbuckled her seatbelt and stumbled out of the car.
A man lay sprawled on the asphalt, his body unnervingly still. The streetlight cast a pale glow over his face, streaked with blood.
Elena’s knees buckled. Oh God. Oh God. She barely had the strength to move, but she crawled forward, her voice shaking.
“Sir? Can you hear me?” Nothing.
“God, I’m so sorry. Please—stay with me.”
Frantically, she grabbed her phone and dialed 911, her fingers slippery with sweat.
Around her, traffic veered off, and curious pedestrians began to gather. She could barely process the murmuring voices around her. All she could focus on was the man on the ground.
“Hey—don’t sleep. Please, stay awake,” she begged, hovering over him, afraid to touch him in case she made things worse.
His lashes fluttered. A pained groan slipped from his lips. Elena’s heart soared with hope. He was alive.
He weakly lifted a hand, reaching for something, anything. But before his fingers could grasp hold of her, he slipped into unconsciousness.
“No, no, no, stay with me!” Elena cried, grabbing his hand.
The sound of sirens blared in the distance. She squeezed his fingers, her voice raw. “Wake up. Please—just hold on.”
Ten minutes later, the injured man was rushed to the hospital. Meanwhile, Elena stood under the harsh fluorescent lights of a police station, answering questions.
She’d taken a breathalyzer test—sober. No signs of fatigue. But she’d been on the phone when she hit him, which meant the blame fell squarely on her shoulders.
“Miss, do you know the victim?” a female officer asked.
Elena shook her head, still dazed. “No.”
Yet his face, bloodied and unconscious, was burned into her mind. Guilt gnawed at her insides.
“The victim had no identification on him,” the officer continued. “We checked our database—no matches. And unfortunately, the accident occurred in a surveillance blind spot.”
No ID. No records. No way to contact his family.
Elena’s chest tightened. She swallowed hard, pushing aside her unease. “Can I go see him?”
The officer met her gaze. “Until we locate his family, you’re responsible for his medical bills and living expenses.”
Elena nodded without hesitation. “That’s my responsibility.”
No excuses. No running away. She would do whatever it took to make things right.
After hours of emergency treatment, the man was finally out of critical condition and moved to a general ward.
With no family in sight, Elena found herself at his bedside, guilt weighing heavily on her. She watched as a nurse wiped his body clean, her movements efficient yet impersonal.
Then, without thinking, Elena reached for a warm towel and did it herself.
The first time she cleaned the blood from his face, she was startled by how striking he was. Beneath the bandages and bruises, his features were sculpted to perfection—his skin smooth, his lips firm.
He was beautiful. And it terrified her. If his face had been ruined because of her…
She shook the thought away. The doctor had reassured her there were no life-threatening injuries beyond the head trauma, but brain injuries were unpredictable. They wouldn’t know the full extent until he woke up.
Elena’s fingers trembled as she wiped his hand.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she murmured, her voice tight with emotion. “Please… wake up.”
She wasn’t trying to win sympathy. “As long as you wake up,” she whispered, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
A dull hum filled his ears. The sound of a woman’s voice—soft, pleading.
He frowned. Who was making so much noise? His head throbbed. Everything felt distant, muddled. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Blurry at first. Then clearer.
A woman sat beside him, her delicate fingers gripping his hand, her eyes red-rimmed from worry. The moment she saw him stir, her face lit up.
“You—you’re awake!” One second, she looked devastated. The next, she was beaming, bright and warm like a flame.
He blinked. His head ached too much to process her rapid shift in emotions.
She had small, sharp little teeth when she smiled, like a mischievous tiger cub. And despite the exhaustion written all over her, she was stunning—untamed beauty, with bare skin and no artificial scent clinging to her.
Elena’s joy quickly shifted to anxiety. He was just staring at her, silent. Was something wrong? Was he…
“Do you… do you know what this is?” She lifted a single finger in front of his face.
The man’s brows drew together. Was she an idiot? She hesitated, then lifted two fingers. “Okay, let’s try again! What about this?”
His expression darkened. “Do I look like a damn toddler to you?” The words were gruff, almost irritated—but to her, they were the most beautiful thing she’d heard all night. He wasn’t brain-damaged.
Elena let out a shaky laugh, exhaling her pent-up fear. “You’re okay. Thank God, you’re okay.”
But then she sobered. “Do you have any family? Someone I can call? This was my fault, and I’ll take full responsibility. Just tell me who—”
Why was she talking so much? He had a pounding headache, and her nonstop chatter wasn’t helping. “Don’t worry,” she continued. “I won’t run from this. I—”
“Who are you?” he cut in.
She blinked. “Oh. Right. My name is Elena.” Then, quickly, “But that’s not important. The real question is—who are you? Do you have a phone number? An address? We couldn’t find any ID on you, and you’ve been unconscious for two days. Your family must be worried sick.”
He stared at her. Who was he? The question echoed in his mind.
Elena frowned. “Wait… you don’t remember?”
His silence was answer enough. She stilled. “You don’t remember anything?”
No name. No home. No family. Nothing. A blank slate.
Compared to her wide-eyed shock, he remained eerily calm. Elena scrambled for her pager, pressing the emergency call button. “Don’t worry—I’ll get the doctor. There must be an explanation for this.”
Within moments, the doctor and nurses rushed in.
