I shouldn't be here.
That's the first thought in my head as I stand in the middle of his study at 2:13 a.m.
The city glows outside the glass walls.
New York never sleeps.
Apparently neither do I.
The divorce papers are still in my hand.
Signed.
Dated.
Three weeks ago.
My signature looks steady.
Confident.
Like I meant it.
I trace the ink with my fingertip.
"I don't remember you," I whisper into the empty room.
"And yet I tried to leave you."
The door behind me opens quietly.
"You always overthink at night."
I jump.
Adrian leans against the doorframe.
No jacket.
No tie.
Top button undone.
Less armor.
More man.
"How long have you been standing there?" I ask.
"Long enough."
"Did you follow me?"
"No."
A beat.
"I heard you open the drawer."
Heat creeps up my neck.
"I wasn't snooping."
"You were looking for proof."
"Of what?"
"That you meant it."
The honesty unsettles me.
"Did I?"
"Yes."
His answer is immediate.
"No hesitation?"
"No."
The word hits harder than I expect.
"Then why didn't you sign?"
He steps fully into the room.
Closes the door behind him.
Not loud.
Just deliberate.
"You didn't look at me when you handed them over."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you were convincing yourself."
"That's convenient."
"It's accurate."
I shake my head.
"You're rewriting the story."
"No," he says quietly. "I'm remembering it."
The air feels charged.
Heavy.
"Tell me about the first time we kissed," I say suddenly.
He stills.
"That's what you want to know?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Marcus says I was unhappy."
"And?"
"You say I chose you."
"I did."
"Then prove it."
Silence stretches.
Slow.
Measured.
"You really want to remember that night?" he asks.
"Yes."
He studies me like he's deciding whether I can handle the truth.
Then—
"It was raining."
Something inside my chest tightens.
Rain.
Headlights.
A flicker.
"You were supposed to be celebrating your engagement."
My breath falters.
"Where?"
"A rooftop bar in SoHo."
The image doesn't fully form.
But something shifts.
A sensation.
Wind against my skin.
"You were angry," he continues.
"At you?"
"Yes."
"For what?"
"For calling out Marcus in front of everyone."
"That sounds like something you would do."
A faint smirk.
"He accused my firm of unethical dealings."
"And?"
"And I proved him wrong."
"Publicly."
"Yes."
I cross my arms.
"So I defended my fiancé."
"No."
The word lands firm.
"You defended me."
My pulse stutters.
"That doesn't make sense."
"You hated when people underestimated you."
"That doesn't mean I wanted you."
His gaze darkens.
"You followed me outside."
The air shifts.
I swallow.
"For what?"
"To tell me I was insufferable."
That sounds more like me.
"And?"
"You said I thought I could win anything."
A strange pressure builds in my chest.
"You said I looked at people like cases to conquer."
I inhale sharply.
That sounds familiar.
"You told me I didn't scare you."
The room feels smaller.
Closer.
"And what did you say?" I whisper.
His eyes lower slowly to my mouth.
"I said I didn't need to."
My heartbeat quickens.
"You were shaking," he says quietly.
"From anger?"
"No."
The word drops between us.
"From what?"
"From wanting me."
My breath catches.
"That's arrogant."
"It was obvious."
Something inside my mind flickers.
A rooftop.
Rain starting.
Music muffled behind glass.
"You stepped closer," he continues.
"You told me I was the worst mistake you could ever make."
The air feels thinner.
"And?"
"I told you I was worth it."
The image sharpens.
Just slightly.
A shadowed rooftop.
The smell of rain.
His tie loosened.
My hands clenched.
"You said," his voice lowers, "that you hated how alive I made you feel."
The words slam into me.
Alive.
A sudden flash—
My hand gripping his lapel.
Rain hitting my face.
His hand at my waist.
My breath stutters.
"Stop," I whisper.
"You asked."
"I didn't mean—"
"You kissed me."
The room tilts.
I see it—
Just a second.
My body pressing into his.
My fingers in his hair.
His hand sliding to my lower back.
Heat floods through me violently.
I stagger slightly.
Adrian moves instantly.
Catching my arm.
"Easy."
My skin burns where he touches me.
"I remember something," I breathe.
His grip tightens subtly.
"What?"
"The rain."
His jaw flexes.
"What about it?"
"It was cold."
A flicker of something dangerous crosses his face.
"Yes."
"And you—"
My mind sparks again.
A flash of his mouth on mine.
Not gentle.
Not hesitant.
Hungry.
I gasp.
His eyes darken.
"You pulled me back when I tried to walk away," he says softly.
"I wouldn't—"
"You did."
The memory slams into place harder this time.
My voice shaking.
"I told you it was a mistake."
"Yes."
"And you said—"
His voice drops.
"Then make it twice."
My breath leaves me in a rush.
That sounds like him.
Confident.
Reckless.
Certain.
My knees weaken.
He steadies me again.
"You were trembling," he murmurs.
"Stop."
"You didn't want safe."
His thumb brushes my wrist unconsciously.
"You wanted me."
The flash hits harder this time.
My back against the rooftop wall.
His mouth on my neck.
My nails digging into his shoulder.
A sharp inhale tears from my lungs.
"I remember."
His expression changes.
Not victory.
Not triumph.
Something deeper.
"You kissed me," I whisper.
"Yes."
"And I kissed you back."
"Yes."
The room spins.
"Why would I do that?"
His gaze holds mine.
"Because you were already in love with me."
My chest tightens painfully.
"No."
"You were."
"That's impossible."
"You ended your engagement two days later."
I shake my head.
"I loved Marcus."
"You loved who you were with him."
"And who was I with you?"
His voice lowers.
"Brave."
The word lands directly in my chest.
"I don't want to remember this," I whisper.
"Why?"
"Because if it's true…"
My voice breaks slightly.
"Then I ruined everything."
Silence.
Heavy.
Raw.
"You didn't ruin anything," he says quietly.
"You chose."
"And then I tried to undo it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
His eyes darken with something unreadable.
"Because loving me isn't easy."
The honesty disarms me.
"You sound proud of that."
"I'm not."
He steps closer.
Close enough that my back nearly hits the desk.
"You were obsessed with me," he murmurs.
The word makes my pulse race.
"That's not healthy."
"It wasn't supposed to be."
His hand lifts slowly.
Hesitates near my cheek.
"Tell me you don't feel it right now."
I should.
I should say no.
But my body—
My body is reacting.
Heat pooling low in my stomach.
Breath uneven.
Pulse loud.
"I don't remember loving you," I whisper.
His thumb brushes my jaw.
Light.
Barely there.
"You don't need memory to feel chemistry."
My heart pounds.
"This is wrong."
"We're married."
"That doesn't make it right."
His gaze drops to my lips again.
Then back to my eyes.
"Say the word," he murmurs.
"What word?"
"No."
The air between us burns.
I open my mouth.
But the word doesn't come.
And that—
That terrifies me.
—————
Because as his fingers slide into my hair—
Another memory detonates inside me.
Not rain.
Not desire.
But blood.
On white sheets.
And me screaming his name.