07
1077 Words
07
Hannah’s POV
When I stepped into the house later that evening, I was shocked to find Killian already home. His tie was sagged across his chest, and his suit jacket was laid on the armrest.
“Hey, welcome,” he greeted and gave me a small smile. My eyes narrowed.
“Hey…” I drawled, confused and walked into the house.
He held out a hand. “Would you mind having dinner with me? I’m not so good of a chef, but I’m making pasta.”
At the sound of food, I finally paid attention to how delicious the house smelled. My stomach rumbled in agreement.
I stared at his hand for a long moment, confusion warring in my mind. Then, I nodded and took it.
Firm. Callous. And so warm. He led me to the dining, pulled out my chair and served me.
It felt unnatural. He hadn’t said more than two words since New York—now he was sending gifts and cooking pasta.
“How was work?” He asked when he took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
My brows pulled down, then I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Is there a point to all these?” I waved my hand around.
Digging the boxed gift he sent from my bag, I placed it on the table. “And this,” I said.
“Is it a crime to gift my wife and cook for her?” He raised a brow.
“You’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I did. You just don’t remember. In fact, you loved that necklace.” He pointed to the box with his fork. “I was just giving you time to adjust and all of that.”
I hummed and began to eat, not responding. For a while, we chewed silently, only the clinks of cutlery could be heard.
“Why did you tell Camille to personally deliver the gift?” I asked after a minute.
He tensed. Only briefly, I almost missed it. “I didn’t. But she’s very…” he floundered around. “Meticulous.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “I see.”
And that was all the conversation we had during dinner. His words mulled in my brain, almost like there was something missing. But maybe that was just me… looking for a flaw so I could run back to Portugal.
We sat in the living room for a while after eating. The television droned on and on about something I paid no attention to.
“How did we meet, Killian?” I asked.
He gave a tight smile. “At a business function. Your dad introduced us both,” then he chuckled. “You didn’t like me… not at first, at least.”
“Why didn’t I?”
“I have no idea. Maybe my personality… but somehow, we just fit when we started seeing each other at business functions. It started as a sort of familiarity s***h acquaintance thing.” He shrugged.
“Then we just clicked. I sent gifts to you from work, just like how Camille did today. It was something you loved. When I heard you were at the office, I thought it would jog your memory,” he said then shook his head.
I pressed my lips together. “It didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Maybe you don’t even need the memories, we can start all over. We can start afresh.”
He reached for my hand and for the first time, I let him. Because despite how rehearsed his speech felt, the softness and hurt in his eyes pulled me in.
“I’m sorry that I lost our memories. I wonder what the fight was about to make me drive off like that,” I said bitterly.
He inhaled sharply. “That’s enough memories for one night, don’t you think? Why don’t you go rest up?”
I agreed with a soft nod.
“I’m also sorry that I’m not comfortable enough to sleep in our bedroom.” I couldn’t imagine how Killian felt. Probably how I felt about Nolan.
“That’s fine. Take your time.”
With a smile, I turned to leave but stopped.
“Killian?” I called, and he looked up. “Did you love me?”
He gave me a wistful smile before he responded.
“With my life.”
> > >
The car headlights flashed into my eyes. I tried to drive out of the way, but the car was stuck. My stomach sank the more I tried to push down on the accelerator.
When I moved to get out, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t run. Just sat there, staring at the headlights racing toward me.
My heart pounded in my ears, and I saw my life flash before my eyes. My mouth parted on a scream just as the vehicle collided with mine.
There was the thick smell of gas. And then fire. Hot. Violent. Destructive. The flames licked at my clothes and pieces of the car.
Soon I was standing outside my vehicle, but watching myself get burned up in the car. I was coated in fire, my skin began to shrivel and drip like molten lava. I was screaming but there were no sounds. I couldn’t move to rescue myself.
I watched. Skin melting. Bone exposed. Still, the fire didn’t stop.
I woke up with a start and ran into the bathroom, retching and emptying my guts into the toilet. I shuddered violently as tears poured down my cheeks.
My mind flashed with images of the nightmare, and I retched again. My skin was clammy, my throat was raw and my heart hadn’t returned to normal.
The nightmares had returned. And I sobbed at the realization. They had begun after I was out of coma, but they’d gradually stopped. And now they were back.
I closed my eyes, still shivering when my phone rang from somewhere in the room. A frown appeared on my lips.
Who could that be by this time?
Gathering the strength to move, I did, on shaky legs. As I reached to pick up the phone, it ended.
I stared at the screen. An unknown number…
From Portugal.
“Nolan,” I whispered to the dark, and my heart kicked up.
My thumb hovered over the call log, but I didn’t call back. I didn’t delete the number either.
- Writer
