The rotor blades kept churning above, but my thoughts churned louder.
I sat there, in the sterile, humming belly of the helicopter, my arm wrapped in Arno's scarf, my eyes glued to her peaceful face… while my insides shook like a damn leaf in a thunderstorm.
Without realizing I was actually shivering.
Not from the cold or blood loss.
It was from the aftershock.
I could've died back there. We all could've.
And the worst part? I wasn't even scared. Not really.
I was calm. Focused. Precise.
I moved like I'd done this before...like war was my second language.
I'd picked up a fallen pistol and shot back like it was second nature. Hit two masked bastards square in the chest from thirty feet with smoke in my eyes and blood on my sleeve.
Who the hell was I?
No, scratch that.
Who the hell had I become?
Because I wasn't scared, clueless little Lucien Chakma anymore.
Not just a mosquito who got transmigrated for being too dramatic about heartbreak.
I was someone else. Someone who remembered how to survive fire and fight with a damn squad.
Someone with muscle memory that didn't belong to the man I was in my past life.
There was something inside this body...a history etched into every nerve and tendon. A story I hadn't unlocked yet.
And whoever sent that hit squad?
They weren't just after Lucien Moreaux the CEO.
They were after something deeper.
Something I hadn't remembered.
Yet.
---
Three days later.
In the Miracle Tower. Private Suite 09.
She finally opened her eyes.
The moment her lashes fluttered and her pupils adjusted to the soft lights of the medical-grade chandelier above, I almost dropped the glass of water I was holding.
"Sunbeam?" I whispered.
She blinked, groaned faintly, and turned her head toward me.
Awake.
Still the most beautiful storm I've ever seen.
I sat on the edge of her bed. My voice caught somewhere between breathless relief and barely suppressed madness. "You scared the hell out of me." I'm sorry, I said holding her hand into me.
Her throat was dry. "Where…"
"You're in Miracle Tower. My personal medical facility," I said, gently brushing back a strand of hair from her face. "Don't worry. You're safe now."
She looked around. Monitors...Oxygen... Sterile white walls. A skyline view of the city beyond bulletproof glass.
Then she looked at me.
"Lucien..."
Uh-oh. Full-name tone.
"Yes, Miss Solace?"
"What the hell do you actually do for a living?"
A pause.
I expected the question. Dreaded it. Feared it, even.
Still, hearing it come from her made it hit harder than any bullet.
She kept going. The first time I saw you, you were in coma..."And Today you came in bleeding, bruised, and commanding a private military. There was a dozen sniper to ambushed you, armored vehicles, and then came a man named Starry Night threatening to haunt the entire city like the grim reaper in Gucci boots. So I'm asking again—what exactly is your profession?"
I exhaled slowly, my gaze dropping to the IV line running into her arm.
She deserved answers.
But the problem was—I didn't have all of them yet.
"I wish I could give you a clean answer," I said quietly. "But the truth is… there are a lot of things I don't know either."
She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean there are gaps in my memory. Things I should know but don't. Things people assume I remember." It happened after I woke up from the coma. I didn't recover my past memory fully yet.
Her expression softened, if only slightly. She knows about it. She was the one who said Assistant Shan that temporary memory loss can occur.
"And someone clearly wants me dead. Which means… whatever I'm missing is dangerous enough to kill over."
There was silence for a moment. Just the beeping of the machines and the distant hum of the air purifier.
"It's a power struggle," I said, more to myself than her. "Someone thinks I'm a threat. But I can't be a proper threat if I don't even know what cards I'm holding."
Her voice was softer this time. "Then find out."
"I will." l looked at her again. Sorry, I didn't know it would happen today. You were it this situation because of me.
We stared at each other. Two souls caught in a whirlwind neither of us asked for.
"Lucien…" she said, her voice almost hesitant, "you saved my life."
I looked away for a beat. "You don't have to thank me."
"I wasn't going to," she smirked faintly. "I was going to say...next time, Don't call me to accompany you. I'm still too young to die and unmarried.
"No deal."
She sighed. "Stubborn."
I nodded. "If it's you then always."
From the hallway, a knock echoed.
Shan peeked in, arm in a sling, a little pale but already dressed like he had a board meeting in five.
"Hey, boss. She's awake. You owe me two thousand bucks. I said three days exactly."
I glared. "I'll deduct it from your next bonus."
"Already spent it."
Arno smiled with her eyes. "He's annoying."
"He's family," I muttered.
Shan grinned. "You love me."
I flipped him off.
Arno smirked.
But behind the laughter, I felt it again.
That shadow. That missing piece.
Ah! I hold my head. I felt a sudden jolt of pain. Both Arno and Shan looking at me in wary look.
Boss?
"Are you okay?" Arno asked.
Yes. Don't worry. I gave them an assured smile.
---
They kept watching me like I was about to pass out or start foaming at the mouth.
But the pain passed. Just a quick, slicing reminder that my brain was still rearranging puzzle pieces from someone else's war.
"Seriously, boss," Shan said, his voice quieting, "maybe you should rest. Just for a while."
"No rest till I find who sent that hit squad," I muttered, standing up from the bedside. My legs were steady now. My heart, less so.
I looked back at Arno one last time before leaving the room. She was sitting up now, sipping water with a grace only someone half-conscious could manage.
Her eyes met mine. Ocean-blue, sharp and stormy.
"Stay safe, Sunbeam," I said.
She didn't reply. Just looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was leaving forever.
I did.
But not because I wanted to.
Because I had to.
Time Skip — One Week Later
I buried myself in work. Meetings, investigations, layers upon layers of encrypted files from Moreaux's past I had no memory of creating. I didn't contact her or even dare.
Why?
Because everyone near me seemed to end up with a bullet in their lungs and a monitor beeping beside their bed.
Because no matter how much I wanted to see her again, I couldn't forgive myself for the blood she'd spilled on that cold floor.
I told myself she was safer this way.
Safer if I stayed out of her life.
So I didn't call.
Didn't text.
Didn't check the hospital cameras.
Didn't ask Shan if she'd been discharged.
I just...vanished.
From her life.
And every night, as I stared out my penthouse window at a city I apparently ruled, I told myself it was the right thing to do.
Even if it hurt like hell.
---
Arno's POV — One Week Later
He never called.
Even once.
The first day she told herself, He's probably busy.
The second day, she reasoned, Maybe there's a crisis only billionaires know about.
The third day, she stared at her phone like a fool until it went black from inactivity.
By the fifth day, she'd officially spiraled.
Hospital to home to hospital. Coffee. Surgery. Repeat.
Everything felt the same, but something was off. Like the world was suddenly quieter in the worst possible way.
No sarcastic remarks from a freshly awakened CEO. No smug grins. No annoying declarations of "Sunbeam" or awkward flirting disguised as gratitude.
Just dead, echoing silence.
She hadn't realized how much he'd gotten into her head until the absence of him started hurting more than that wound ever did.
By the seventh day, she was mumbling to herself like a crazy person while scrubbing in.
"Why should she care?"
She snapped her gloves on harder than necessary.
"I'm a surgeon. I've handled cases ten times more complicated than one cryptic CEO with hot cheekbones and shady bodyguards."
She tugged the mask over her face, huffing.
"He probably forgot. Or maybe he's got a hundred other women fawning over him. Or he's off fighting another private war with that ridiculous man in Gucci boots—what was his name? Starry Freaking Night?"
She exhaled.
"This is ridiculous. I don't even like him like that." she mumbled
A nurse glanced at her.
"Did you say something, Dr. Solace?"
"Scalpel," she barked.
But deep down, beneath the sarcasm and surgical precision, a voice whispered:
Then why are you waiting by the phone every night like an idiot, Arno?
---