"Anna..." his voice ca out rough, barely more than a breath.
She stiffened for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of his touch, then slowly relaxed into his hold. His heartbeat was fast—too fast—and she could feel it even through his coat, a frantic rhythm that betrayed everything he wasn’t saying.
It was then she realized what she had been doing.
The silence. The distance. The way she kept retreating into her thoughts instead of letting him in.
And it was hurting him.
"Please..." he whispered against her hair. "Whatever it is—mories, dreams, fate—just don’t shut out."
Anna closed her eyes, guilt washing over her.
For the first ti that evening, the tension in her shoulders eased. Not completely, but enough to let her breathe again.
"I’m not trying to push you away," she said softly. "I’m just... scared of what you might find if you keep digging."
Scared of what he might rember.
Scared of what it might do to him.
Anna knew it wouldn’t be easy for them. Maybe that was why a part of her believed it was better if he never rembered at all—if the past stayed buried where it couldn’t poison the present.
Daniel, on the other hand, only tightened his arms around her. "So am I. But I’d rather be scared with you than lose you without even understanding why."
She turned slightly in his embrace, resting her hands over his, feeling the steady heat of him, the proof that he was here—alive, real.
"And if those mories co back?" she asked quietly. "If you rember how I died?"
His grip faltered—just for a heartbeat.
Then it fird again.
"Then I’ll rember how to save you this ti," he said.
Anna let out a shaky breath, leaning back into him, and this ti she hugged him tightly, as if anchoring herself to his promise.
She wanted to believe him.
She did believe him.
But deep down, she knew—no matter how strong he was, no matter how much he loved her—so mories were heavy enough to crush even the strongest heart.
And she didn’t want Daniel to live with the regret of a past she herself had forgotten, especially when the present they shared felt so fragile and beautiful.
Still...
Even as she clung to him, her thoughts wandered to the one question she hadn’t voiced.
If she had died once before—
Then how had Daniel died too?
The thought settled in her chest like a shadow, quiet but persistent, waiting for the mont it would finally be rembered.
***
[Inside the room]
"I hope he doesn’t just walk out in the middle of the shower," Anna muttered, standing in the middle of the bedroom with her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the bathroom door like it was a ticking bomb.
It had taken far more effort than it should have to get Daniel to finally let go of her.
Her clingy husband—who apparently believed personal space was a myth—had followed her from the car to the room, from the room to the closet, and then nearly into the bathroom.
"You’re seriously going to watch shower now?" she had asked him, incredulous.
"I’m just making sure you don’t disappear," he replied with a straight face.
As if she could just vanish into thin air.
Anna rolled her eyes at the mory and let out a long breath when she finally heard the sound of the shower turning on.
"Oh thank God," she sighed dramatically, slumping onto the bed. "Freedom. Temporary freedom, but still."
She kicked off her shoes and flopped back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.
"He’s acting like I’m going to be abducted by fate itself," she muttered to herself. "I can’t even go three steps without him holding my hand like I’m a lost child in a supermarket."
A small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Overprotective. Dramatic. Emotionally traumatized.
Yep. That was her husband.
She glanced at the bathroom door again, half-expecting it to open any second.
"If he cos out wrapped in a towel saying he forgot the soap, I’m locking the door," she warned the empty room.
The sound of running water remained steady.
Anna finally relaxed.
"Okay... he’s really showering."
She let out another breath, this one lighter, and reached for her phone from the bedside table. Just as she unlocked the screen, it buzzed in her hand.
Incoming call: Kathrine.
Anna’s thumb hovered over the screen.
She was just about to answer when—
The bathroom door creaked open.
She didn’t even look up at first. "Daniel, I swear if you forgot the soap—"
Footsteps. Wet ones.
Drip. Drip.
Sothing about the sound made her pause.
Slowly, very slowly, Anna lifted her head.
And forgot how to breathe.
Daniel stood in the doorway, hair still damp and pushed back, water sliding down his temples, across his collarbones, and disappearing beneath the towel hanging dangerously low around his hips. His skin glistened, muscles relaxed from the heat of the shower, and there was a very unfair amount of confidence in the way he leaned against the doorfra.
Half naked. Dripping. Smirking.
Her brain short-circuited.
"...I—" Anna blinked. "You—"
He raised an eyebrow. "I what?"
She stared. And stared. And stared.
Her phone buzzed again in her hand. Kathrine’s na flashed insistently on the screen.
Completely ignored.
Daniel glanced at the phone, then back at her. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
"No," she breathed. "I look like I’ve seen... this."
He looked down at himself, then back up, pretending to consider it. "This happens every ti I shower, you know."
"This should be illegal," she muttered.
His lips twitched. "Which part?"
"All of it."
He walked closer, water still dripping onto the carpet. Anna’s eyes followed every single movent like a traitor.
Long gone was the tension between them.
Long gone was the emotional distance.
All that existed right now was her husband, half naked, slling like soap and steam and pure unfairness.
Her mind tried to form words.
Failed.
Daniel stopped right in front of her, towering slightly as he tilted his head. "Why are you staring at like you’re buffering?"
She swallowed. "Because you ca out of the shower looking like a... like a—"
"A what?"
"...cri."
He laughed. Actually laughed. "You’re drooling."
"I am not."
"You just wiped your mouth."
Anna froze.
Slowly lifted her hand.
Realized she had, in fact, wiped her mouth.
"...That was an itch."
"On your lips?"
"Yes."
"Convenient."
She groaned and covered her face. "Why are you like this?"
"Because you married ."
"That was emotional manipulation."
He leaned closer, water droplets sliding down his chest. "You literally told to go shower."
"Yes, not to erge like a wet fantasy."
"Well, sorry for being naturally devastating."
She peeked through her fingers.
Big mistake.
Her brain lted all over again.
"Daniel, please put on a shirt before I forget how language works."
He didn’t.
Instead, he lifted the edge of the towel slightly. "What, this shirt?"
Her soul left her body.
"STOP," she squeaked, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at his face.
He caught it easily, still grinning. "You’re the one staring."
"I was answering a call!"
"You were drooling over my abs."
"They attacked first!"
Her phone buzzed again.
Kathrine. Still calling.
Anna glanced at it, then back at Daniel, who was now casually drying his hair with another towel, arms lifting in a way that felt very personally targeted.
"Daniel, I’m serious, I need to take this."
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