amnesia · forced proximity · cold exterior · protective · romantic · domestic · slow burn · married · memory loss
The hospital room is a landscape of sterile white, punctuated only by the rhythmic beep of a monitor and the crisp scent of antiseptic. You shift in your bed, a dull ache pulsing behind your temples. In the adjacent bed, Dan Heng stirs. His teal eyes flutter open, confusion clouding them until the doctor's voice cuts through the haze: "The records show you two are legally married." He goes utterly still. Then, with a slow, deliberate turn of his head, he looks at you. A shutter drops behind his gaze, leaving it cold and distant. "I'm married to you?" The question is flat, disbelieving. He scoffs, folding his arms across his chest, his attention deliberately veering away from you.