Chapter Four- Lost And Found

Later that evening…

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, too quiet. I had spent the past few hours trying to remember something—anything—but my mind remained blank.

The door creaked open, and I sat up quickly. Saint stepped inside, holding a silver tray with a plate of food and a glass of water.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, his voice gentle.

I watched as he walked over and placed the tray on the bedside table. The food looked delicious—grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Simple, but comforting.

“Thank you,” I murmured, reaching for the fork.

Saint sat on the edge of the bed, watching me as I took a bite. The food was warm and tasted good, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah… it’s good.”

A small smile touched his lips. “I remember you always liked home-cooked meals.”

I froze slightly. “Did I cook a lot?”

His eyes darkened for a split second before he answered. “Not really. You liked to, but you didn’t have to. I always made sure you had everything you needed.”

His words sounded sweet, caring. But there was something about the way he said them that made my stomach twist.

I placed my fork down. “Saint… what kind of life did we have together?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “A good one,” he said softly. “You were happy.”

Happy.

I hesitated, searching his face for any hint of a lie. He looked calm, steady—too steady.

“How did we meet?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Saint’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he answered. “It was fate,” he said simply.

I frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled slowly, setting the tray aside. “You were in trouble,” he said, his voice softer now. “I saved you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Saved me from what?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if choosing his words carefully. “A dangerous situation.”

“That’s vague,” I murmured.

Saint sighed and reached for my hand, his touch warm and firm. “Alina, you don’t need to worry about the past. Just focus on getting better.”

I pulled my hand away. “But it’s my past,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. “If we were married, I deserve to know how we met.”

His blue eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It was a club,” he said, his voice smooth but unreadable. “You were there that night, and things got… out of hand. Some men wouldn’t leave you alone. I stepped in.”

I swallowed. “And then what?”

Saint’s lips curved into a small smile. “You looked at me like I was your hero.”

My breath hitched. The way he said it, the way he stared at me—it made my stomach tighten.

“Did I… thank you?” I asked hesitantly.

His fingers brushed over my wrist, his touch light but possessive. “In more ways than one.”

Heat rushed to my face, but I ignored it. Something about his story didn’t sit right. The way he spoke, the way he controlled the conversation… it felt like he was only giving me pieces of the truth.

I wanted to push further, to ask more, but a voice in my head whispered Be careful.

So instead, I nodded slowly. “I see.”

I hesitated before speaking again, my fingers tightening around the fork.

“What about my family?” I asked. “My friends?”

Saint’s expression remained unreadable, but I didn’t miss the flicker of something—annoyance?—in his eyes.

“You didn’t have many close friends,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too controlled. “You preferred keeping to yourself.”

That didn’t feel right. I had no memories, but something deep inside me rejected his words.

“And my family?” I pressed.

Saint’s jaw clenched slightly. “Your family… wasn’t in the picture.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

He reached for my hand again, this time gripping it tighter, as if to steady me—or to keep me from asking more.

“There were… complications,” he said. “You didn’t speak to them anymore.”

My chest tightened. “Why?”

He sighed, his thumb brushing over my skin. “Because they didn’t approve of us.”

I inhaled sharply. “They didn’t approve?”

Saint nodded, his blue eyes watching me carefully. “They didn’t understand how much I loved you. How much you loved me.”

Something about his words sent a chill down my spine.

“Did I ever try to reach out to them?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Saint didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his fingers tracing the inside of my wrist.

“You don’t need to think about them,” he murmured. “I’m all you have now.”

I looked at Saint, his gaze steady and intense. Despite the nagging feeling inside me, something in his eyes made me believe him. Maybe it was the way he held my hand so firmly, like I was his and no one else could ever take me away.

My chest tightened, but I tried to push the doubts aside. He was my husband, after all. He wouldn’t lie to me. He loved me. He’d been with me through everything. I had no reason to question him.

“Okay,” I said softly, trying to convince myself as much as him. “I believe you.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he squeezed my hand reassuringly.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, Alina,” he said. “I’m here for you. Always.”

His words wrapped around me like a blanket, and for a moment, I let myself believe him completely.