Chapter 3 Back in His Bed

Jason helped her sit up, guiding her gently like she was glass about to shatter. Amira forced herself not to recoil.

His touch used to comfort her. Now, it crawled across her skin like betrayal.

"You had a bad accident," he said softly, adjusting the pillow behind her. "The doctors warned that your memory might be... fractured. Do you remember anything at all?"

She blinked slowly, buying time.

"Yes," she lied. "Some things. Your name. My name. Bits and pieces."

Jason smiled - that same smile that once made her heart flutter. It still did. But now, it fluttered in fear and fury.

He looked relieved. "That's a good sign. Take it slow. You're safe here, Sasha."

Safe.

She repeated that word in her mind like a curse.

She was living in the body of the woman who ruined her life. And now, she was being nursed back to health by the man who had watched her die.

What twisted irony.

Jason helped her to the master bedroom - their bedroom, once. Nothing had changed. The same silk sheets. The same skyline view. Only the wife had been replaced.

That night, he undressed in front of her, casually, confidently.

He had no idea she had seen every scar, every line, before - just in another body.

She turned her back when he slipped under the covers.

But then, his arm reached around her waist.

"Sasha..." he murmured, his breath warm on her neck. "I missed you."

Amira's heart hammered. His hand moved across her stomach with careless ease. Her skin prickled.

She should push him away. Scream. But she didn't.

She let him hold her.

Because one day soon, she would destroy him.

And when she did, she wanted him to remember this night.