Avah's pov
By the time I was dropped off and escorted to my house, I was utterly drained; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Roman made sure I was inside and had locked the door before he left.
I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my shoes, not caring where they landed. All I wanted was a moment to breathe, to feel even a sliver of normalcy. As I walked to the bathroom, I shed my clothes piece by piece, leaving a trail behind me.
The instant the hot water hit my skin, I felt a flicker of relief. For just a moment, the weight pressing down on me eased. But it didn’t take long for reality to creep back in.
How had my life changed so drastically in just two days?
Why was his grandfather so insistent on this marriage? I didn’t want it—at least, not like this. But I couldn’t deny the strange, undeniable chemistry between Roman and me. It was rare, electric, and... unsettling. Could something be wrong with him?
And then there was his grandfather. The same man who had insulted me, belittled me, and made me feel small had suddenly changed his tune. One minute, I was nothing. The next, he was demanding we get married. What had caused such a drastic shift?
He wasn’t my grandfather. He couldn’t force me into anything.
But a small, nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered otherwise. It told me that I might not have a choice in the matter—that this was bigger than me, and I was already caught in its web.
I stepped out of the shower and dried off, wrapping the towel tightly around me as if it could shield me from everything. The warmth from the water was already fading, leaving a chill in its wake.
I shuffled into my bedroom, too drained to care about anything else. As I sank onto my bed, my phone buzzed beside me. For a moment, I considered ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of me.
It was a message from Roman.
Rest well. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp.
That was it. No explanation, no further instructions. Just another order.
I stared at the screen, debating whether to respond. Part of me wanted to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere. Another part knew it would be futile. He wasn’t the kind of man who took “no" as an answer.
I tossed the phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
This was madness. Two days ago, I was living a life of relative simplicity; working at the club, trying to make ends meet, and ignoring the glaring gaps in my memory. Now, I was being pushed into a whirlwind of wealth, power, and control.
I had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was certain, I was in over my head.
Marrying him might have an advantage, but all I saw were disadvantages. Sure, we could get along, maybe even fall in love, and live a happy life, but something told me that would be far too simple. Life wasn’t a fairytale, and if it were, I wouldn’t be marrying him with half my memories missing.
At least if I knew who I was, I would have a better sense of what I was bringing to the table. Was I someone with a past worth running from? Someone who had nothing to lose? Or was there more, something darker lurking beneath the surface of my forgotten life?
I let out a heavy sigh, my head sinking further into the pillow. A part of me wondered what Roman thought about all of this. Was this just an obligation for him? Another move on a chessboard he was trying to master? Or did he genuinely see something in me?
The thought was both comforting and terrifying. Comforting because it meant someone believed I was worth holding on to. Terrifying because it meant I had to live up to something I wasn’t even sure I could.
The silence of the room only made my thoughts louder. Questions buzzed around my mind like restless bees. Why did his grandfather insist on this marriage? Why was Roman even entertaining the idea? And why did a sense of dread claw at my chest every time I thought about the future?
My eyelids grew heavier, but peace eluded me. The deeper I sank into the mattress, the more it felt like I was sinking into something darker, something I couldn’t escape.
A sense of doom loomed over me, as though the decision I had no choice but to make would be the one to unravel me completely.
When sleep finally came, it wasn’t a reprieve. It was a doorway to the unknown, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what was waiting on the other side.
I started dreaming about a life where I wore expensive dresses and carried designer bags, each piece reeking of wealth and power. I lived in a sprawling mansion with crystal chandeliers that sparkled like stars and marble floors that reflected the lavish surroundings. Servants moved about gracefully, attending to my every whim. Yet, despite the grandeur, I couldn’t make out their faces. It was as if I were watching a distant, faded memory, one that I had long forgotten but still clung to in the depths of my mind.
Amid the elegance, there was laughter. Not the joyous kind, but a peculiar, chilling laugh—pretentious and laced with malice. It echoed through the dream, wrapping itself around me like a cold, invisible chain. Even in my sleep, it sent shivers down my spine.
Before I could turn and see who was laughing, a loud, shrill noise dragged me out of the dream. My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the ceiling, disoriented and annoyed. My phone was ringing on the nightstand, its persistent vibration piercing the lingering fog of sleep.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes, but that eerie laugh followed me, clinging to the edges of my consciousness. It wasn’t just a dream. I felt it deep in my bones, as if my subconscious was trying to push a fragment of my past to the surface.
I tried to recall the dream, anything beyond the laugh but the details slipped through my fingers like sand. One thing stood out: in that dream, I was happy. The thought brought a small, momentary relief. Whatever the truth of my past might be, there had been happiness there once.
The phone rang again, jolting me back to reality. This time, frustration bubbled up, and I almost hurled the device across the room for daring to interrupt such an important dream. Instead, my fumbling fingers hit the green button by mistake, and I accidentally answered.
“I am waiting for you downstairs,” Roman’s deep voice said without preamble. Before I could reply, the line went dead.
I stared at the phone, my annoyance quickly replaced by a mix of curiosity and dread. What now? Why was he here so early?
With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and braced myself for whatever came next.