Chapter 9 Muscle Memory Without The Memory

I didn't remember my life, but my body remembered her.

SEBASTIAN

The first thing I noticed after waking up was how often my gaze drifted to her.

Not because I was meant to, but because something inside me did it on its own, instinctive, like muscle memory without the memory.

I would be lying if I said it didn't feel strange that she was the only person I could remember. Stranger still was how, even as I struggled to make sense of everything else, I kept being drawn back to her. Part of me whispered that something about this wasn't right, yet another part insisted it was. Both feelings existed at once, tangled and impossible to separate.

Did that even make sense?

I noticed the little things, the way she grew quiet whenever I was near, how her shoulders tensed like she was bracing herself, how her breath hitched when our hands almost touched. And when I asked if I could feed her, the way she froze told me everything I needed to know.

Not about the food.

But about us.

Because what kind of wife tensed like that around her own husband?

She let out a breathless laugh and looked away, her cheeks warming.

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at my lips. Even though a part of me sensed there was more she wasn't saying, I still found myself enjoying this, teasing her, watching the way she reacted so honestly, so unguarded. It amused me more than it probably should have.

"No response," I murmured, leaning closer, "means I'm feeding you."

"You... you don't have to." She protested weakly, waving her hand as if that would stop me.

"Too late."

I took the fork from her fingers, twirled a neat portion of pasta, and lifted it toward her. She hesitated, an awkward smile curving her lips as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then, finally, she leaned in and accepted the bite.

"Good girl." I said lightly.

She laughed nervously, and I was already rolling another portion. "Open your mouth."

Still laughing, she obeyed, chewing slowly before lowering her gaze again, that shy smile creeping back onto her face.

I set the fork aside and reached for the bottle of Coke. Spotting a mug on the table, I poured a generous amount and brought it to her lips.

She looked up at me then-and I caught the way her eyes shimmered, tears threatening but unshed. She laughed again, as if to hide it, lifting her chin to take a sip.

"Wow..." The word slipped out before I could stop it as I watched her turn her face away, blinking too fast, trying and failing to hide the tears pooling in her eyes. "Did I seriously unlock tears with pasta?"

She laughed again, sniffing softly. "The pasta just tastes really good."

"Are you sure it's not because I'm feeding you?" I teased, watching the way her smile slowly returned. I had to admit, I liked seeing it there. A lot.

"I want the grilled chicken." She said, pointing at it.

"Alright." I speared a slice with the fork and held it up to her. "Here."

She leaned in and ate it eagerly, like she'd been waiting for permission.

I chuckled. "See? All it takes is a good-looking feeder like me to bring your appetite back."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're being so full of yourself right now."

I grinned. "Just admit it."

She only smiled and kept eating.

"You know..." I tapped the fork lightly against the container, watching her instead of the food. "You have a very expressive face. I can practically read every emotion you're feeling."

She lifted a hand to her cheek, startled. "Really?"

Before she could think better of it, I reached out and gently pinched her cheek. "You're not doing a great job hiding them."

She laughed and leaned back into her seat, still smiling. The room grew quiet after that, the kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable-just filled. I watched her as she absentmindedly rubbed her palms against her dress, fidgeting, stealing glances everywhere except at me.

Was she really that shy?

When our eyes finally met, she flinched slightly, as if she was still adjusting to the idea of me being this close.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a nervous laugh.

I looked away, fixing my gaze on the bed, the pale wall beyond it. "I'm curious." I said after a moment. "About how we met. How we got married."

When I glanced back at her, the smile had already faded from her face. Her eyes dropped to her hands. I noticed then how often that happened. How the past seemed to dim her every time it came up.

I tapped my fingers against my thigh, waiting.

She opened her mouth, closed it. Tried again. No words came. Whatever she wanted to say, it weighed on her.

What was it that she found so hard to voice?

"Actually," she finally whispered. "I-"

"The past isn't important." I interrupted, the words leaving me faster than thought. A strange unease had settled in my chest and I knew that I wouldn't like whatever came next. "What matters is now. This moment. The memories we'll make from here on out."

Her head lifted.

And just like that, her face brightened like I'd handed her something she hadn't known she was hoping for.

***

We ate, and we talked, and somewhere along the way the hours slipped through my fingers without me noticing. I filled the room with silly jokes, half of them not even that funny, but she laughed anyway, adding murmured comments under her breath that made me want to say even more ridiculous things just to hear them again.

I was careful not to bring up the past, no matter how much it tugged at my curiosity. I'd seen how her mood shifted every time it surfaced. Tonight, I wanted her light like this-smiling, relaxed, here.

Before I knew it, night settled quietly outside the window.

I'd already taken a shower and was smoothing the bedsheet when the bathroom door opened. Selene stepped out, wearing the shirt I'd given her earlier. Vincent had brought some of my things in the afternoon, and it occurred to me then that she hadn't brought any of her own.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling shyly.

The shirt swallowed her frame, the sleeves hanging a little too long, the hem brushing her thighs.

She looked... cute. Disarmingly so.

A smile curved on my lips before I could stop it.

"Looks good on you."

She smiled as she always did, brushing her hair back as she stood there, hesitating, as if unsure what her next move should be.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her more closely than I probably should have. She suddenly found the sleeves of my shirt fascinating, her fingers worrying at the fabric as she avoided my gaze. There was an awkwardness between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... gentle. Familiar in a way I couldn't explain.

My eyes drifted down her legs, stopping where the hem of my shirt rested against her thighs. I looked away quickly, shutting down the dangerous turn my thoughts were beginning to take.

"Are you planning to stand there all night?" I asked, lying back and pulling the blanket over myself.

"I..." She bit her lower lip, rubbing the back of her neck, clearly flustered.

"Turn off the light and come here."

She moved toward the switch, slowly, too slowly. Like she was buying time. I wondered what she was thinking, what made her hesitate this much around me.

The light went out, plunging the room into darkness. A moment later, I heard her careful footsteps approaching the bed. She climbed in at last, stiff and uncertain.

I lifted the blanket and draped it over her.

We lay facing each other, our faces only inches apart, the quiet between us charged and delicate. I smiled, unable to stop myself, savoring the closeness.

"You're quiet." I murmured, my gaze never leaving her face.

"That's because I'm trying to sleep." She replied softly, closing her eyes.

"Lucky you." I lowered my voice, letting the words linger. "I'm wide awake. Hard to sleep when your wife is this beautiful."

Her eyes fluttered open again, and she looked at me before smiling faintly. "You're such a tease."

"I'm not lying." A smirk curved my lips. "I might actually fall asleep if you do this." I gestured to my head, half-expecting her to laugh me off.

She did look at me like I was being ridiculous, and I was already about to admit I was joking when her hand reached out. Warm fingers slipped into my hair, caressing gently.

I stilled.

My heart began to pound so loudly I was sure she could hear it. At first, I had told myself to be careful, to watch her, not trust too easily. Something about our situation felt uncertain. That had been my resolve.

But with her hand in my hair, that resolve wavered.

In its place came something else. A need. To know her. To understand her. To hold her closer and never let go.

I wanted to learn what made her happy.

I wanted to be the reason she smiled.

I lifted my hand and covered hers, resting it against my head. I felt her tense, just slightly, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I shifted closer, closing the distance between us. Her breath brushed my face, and her eyes flickered briefly to my lips.

"Selene." I whispered.

She drew her gaze back to mine, her breath hitching as our eyes met.

"I might not remember our past." I said quietly, my thumb brushing over her knuckles as if the motion came from instinct alone. My eyes never left her face. "But I know this..."

I paused, steadying myself. "Right now, I want you here."

Her fingers trembled beneath mine.

"Let's start again." I continued, the words soft but certain. A faint smile curved my lips.

"You and me."