Chapter One: Shattered Memories and Silent Love

The rain fell gently over the city, as if the heavens mourned a tragedy forgotten by all but one.

Elira sat at the window, her gaze distant and unfocused. Her reflection, pale and fragile, mirrored the emptiness that lived within her. She had lost something—no, someone—but no matter how hard she tried, the fragments refused to return. All she remembered was a car crash, a brilliant light, and waking up in a hospital bed with a hollow ache in her chest.

Her parents, once warm and affectionate, had become cold. The love that once filled their home had dried like withered flowers. No one ever spoke of what she had lost. No one told her about the boy who used to hold her hand and promise her forever.

Two months after her recovery, Elira was married off to Ares.

He was tall, cold, and distant—his eyes like steel and voice colder than winter. He never smiled at her, never spoke kindly, and never looked at her the way she longed for. She thought perhaps, in time, she could win his heart. She didn’t know the truth that poisoned their marriage from the beginning.

Ares had a lover—a woman he adored and planned to marry. But due to a sudden engagement orchestrated by his family, he was forced to wed Elira. And he thought Elira knew, that she had been part of the manipulation.

So he resented her. Blamed her.

“You knew I loved someone else,” he said one night, his voice sharp like glass. “You pretended to be innocent, but you stole everything from me.”

Elira, stunned, could only shake her head. “I didn’t know... I swear, I don’t remember anything.”

But Ares didn’t believe her.

Each day in the mansion was like walking through a battlefield. The maids whispered cruel things, shoved her aside, and treated her like an outsider. Bruises bloomed on her arms, but she said nothing. She still believed that maybe—just maybe—her kindness would melt the ice around her husband’s heart.

But that ice cut deeper than she imagined.

Then one evening, Ares returned home, his eyes red, reeking of whiskey. He threw a vase across the room, shattering it against the wall. Elira flinched.

“She cheated on me,” he growled. “All this time, she only wanted my money. I gave her everything… and she laughed behind my back.”

His fury, confusion, and pain turned to the only person left—Elira.

“You knew this would happen,” he spat, grabbing her wrist tightly. “You wanted this! You wanted to see me fall!”

“I didn’t!” she cried, tears spilling. “I didn’t even know—!”

In the struggle, she tripped, her head slamming into the corner of the wooden bedframe.

Blood.

Ares froze, the red staining his hands like guilt personified.

“Elira?” he whispered, panic replacing rage. “Elira—!”

He rushed her to the hospital, heart pounding with dread. For days, she lay motionless. The doctors said her body was shutting down. Something inside her was refusing to fight.

Her brother, Elias, returned from abroad after hearing the news. When he entered the hospital room, he felt a storm rise in his chest. His baby sister—so gentle and kind—looked like a lifeless doll, bruised and pale. He clenched his fists. “I should have been here… I should have protected you.”

He vowed to never leave her again.

Ares, meanwhile, sat outside her room day and night. Guilt gnawed at his soul. He remembered every time she brought him tea, every quiet smile she gave, every soft word. He remembered the way she waited for him with dinner, even when he never came. He remembered how she cried silently when the maids mocked her.

And most of all, he remembered how she never once fought back.

He realized too late—he had fallen for her.

But Elira didn’t wake. Not for days. Not for months. Not for years.

Three long years passed.

The world moved on, but Ares didn’t. He stayed by her side, whispering apologies, holding her hand, reading her stories he thought she might’ve liked. He helped Elias in arranging therapies and hiring specialists.

And then… one morning, her fingers twitched.

“Elira?” Elias called out, rushing to her side.

She blinked slowly. Her vision blurred. Her lips parted.

“The car… where’s Leo?” she asked faintly. “He was with me… Is he okay?”

Ares’s heart dropped.

Leo. That was his name.

The boyfriend she had forgotten.

Elias gently took her hand. “Elira… Leo didn’t make it. The accident… it took him.”

The room spun. Her heart cracked, the ache returning tenfold. Tears slipped down her cheeks, silent and endless.

“I loved him,” she whispered. “I remember now… we were going to run away together. He told me not to be afraid.”

Ares stood outside, unable to walk in. Her eyes—once filled with hope for him—now held grief for someone else. He had no right to grieve with her. He had destroyed her in ways she never deserved.

Elira mourned for days. The pain was raw, like an old wound ripped open again. She buried herself in memories that once were lost—Leo’s laughter, his promises, the music they danced to, the road they drove before it all turned black.

And slowly, as she healed, she noticed the man who never left her side.

Ares.

He brought her books. Flowers. Played her favorite songs. He never said much, but his eyes… they were no longer cold.

“Why?” she asked one evening.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said quietly. “But I’ve wronged you in more ways than I can count. I see it now—how you loved with everything, even when unloved. I hated you for something you never did. And now… I hate myself.”

Elira looked at him, seeing not the monster from her nightmares, but the man who stayed while she slept through years. The man who changed.

She didn’t respond. Not yet. Her heart was still in pieces.

But something inside her whispered: maybe broken things could still be mended.

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