Wrapped in a towel, Maya stepped out of the bathroom, a light mist clinging to her skin. The shower had helped—she felt a little more human, a little less haunted.

On the bed, she spotted the clothes Alejandro had left for her. A loose, oversized T-shirt and a pair of shorts—definitely his. She pressed her lips together, examining them with amusement.

“Well… better than nothing,” she murmured.

She slipped them on. The shirt hung loosely past her thighs, and the shorts barely clung to her waist. Looking at herself in the mirror.

“I look like a toddler in her dad’s clothes,” she whispered.

She stepped out of the bedroom and wandered through the mansion. The house was sleek and modern, filled with clean lines, elegant furniture, and large windows that let in morning light. It was the kind of place that whispered wealth without shouting it.

As she entered the kitchen, the soft sound of something sizzling greeted her. Alejendro stood in the soft morning light, stirring something on the pot with quiet focus. A fitted white shirt hugged his shoulders, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong forearms and a sleek leather watch. His tie hung loose around his neck, undone but intentional—like he was caught between professionalism and something more intimate. The scent of spices mingled with fresh coffee, and despite the domestic scene, there was an undeniable sharpness to him. Poised. Polished.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps and offered her a charming smile.

“Good morning.”

Maya returned it with a smile of her own. “Good morning,” she murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

Alejandro’s eyes swept over her, pausing for a second at the way his shirt engulfed her small frame.

Maya caught his look and made a face. “I know… I must look like a cartoon.”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow, his expression softening.

“No,” he said simply. “You look… cute.”

A laugh escaped her, soft and genuine.

Maya stepped further into the kitchen, the oversized shirt swaying with her movements. Her gaze shifted to the pot on the stove, where something rich and aromatic simmered.

She peered in curiously. “What is it?”

Alejandro glanced at her with a half-smile. “A special recipe,” he said, stirring with ease. “I have a thing for fusion. A little of this, a little of that… just like life.”

Maya raised an eyebrow, the scent calming her nerves slightly. “Smells good.”

He nodded, eyes focused on the pot. “You’ll be the judge.”

She leaned lightly against the counter, folding her arms. “Do you live alone?” she asked, her tone casual—but underneath, she was seeking distraction. Something to keep her from thinking too much.

Alejandro didn’t look away from the stove. “Yeah. I like my own space.”

Maya nodded slowly, pressing her lips together. “Makes sense,” she said softly.

There was a brief pause, not uncomfortable, but lingering. She let her eyes roam the kitchen—neat, masculine, well-organized. No signs of chaos. No signs of anyone else.

Maya watched him for a moment, then asked carefully, “Uhh… how did you find me? I mean, in what circumstances?”

She wasn’t just asking to fill the silence—she wanted to piece together something, anything, about the world she’d fallen into… and the man who had brought her here.

Alejandro paused, his hands stilling over the pot. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment too long.

“You collided with my car last night,” he said simply.

Maya blinked. “Oh.”

She nodded slowly, processing the words. But there was a part of her that had hoped for more—more details, more truth. Something in his tone felt carefully measured, like he was offering her just enough… but never too much.

She bit her lip, trying to mask her disappointment. “Right. That explains the bruises, I guess.”

Alejandro turned the stove off, walking to the counter and pouring the dish into two bowls. He placed one in front of her, the steam rising in soft curls.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there,” he said, voice quiet. “You looked like you were running from something.”

Maya looked up sharply at that, her breath catching.

“I was…?" she whispered.

Alejandro met her gaze, and for a second, his calm mask seemed to flicker.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

She shook her head slowly.

“No,” she murmured. “But I wish… I did”

Alejandro looked at her—really looked at her. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken flickered in his gaze. It was more than a concern. More than curiosity. It was a shadow of something deeper…. But just as quickly, it was gone, masked behind his usual calm expression.

He cleared his throat softly and gestured to the bowl. “Here. Taste it.”

Maya smiled, grateful for the shift in mood. She took the spoon and dipped it into the steaming dish, bringing it to her lips.

The moment the flavors hit her tongue, she let out a soft, surprised moan. “Uhmm—it’s really good.”

Alejandro chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “I’ve passed, then?”

Maya laughed, a lightness in her chest she hadn’t felt in days. “Passed with flying colors.”

He leaned against the counter, watching her with a pleased expression as she took another bite.

“So,” she asked between spoonfuls, “what would you name it? This fusion masterpiece of yours?”

Alejandro tilted his head thoughtfully, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.

“Hmm… I’d call it Maya’s first meal,” he said smoothly.

She looked up, caught off guard, then laughed again, the sound soft and real.

“That’s a terrible name.”

“That’s a memorable one,” he countered, eyes dancing with quiet amusement.

She shook her head, biting her lower lip to stifle another smile.

Alejandro stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel before picking up his white coat from the armchair.

“By the time I return,” he said over his shoulder, “feel free to enjoy some Netflix. The remote’s on the table.”

Maya nodded but her eyes were drawn to the coat. Crisp. Pristine. A subtle reminder that the man standing in front of her wasn’t just a kind stranger—he was someone important.

“You’re a doctor?” she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Alejandro smirked slightly, slipping one arm into the coat. “A neurosurgeon, to be precise.”

A short, unexpected laugh escaped her before she quickly pressed her lips together, as if catching herself in the act. Alejandro turned fully toward her, brow raised, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“What?” he asked, amused and intrigued.

Maya shook her head, a little embarrassed. “I—I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t know. You don’t look like a doctor.”

Alejandro arched a brow, crossing his arms. “And what exactly does a doctor look like?”

She grinned, biting her lower lip. “Serious. Tired. You know… buried in files and coffee stains. You, on the other hand, look like someone who walked out of a luxury magazine.”

Alejandro chuckled at that, the sound low and rich. “So now I’m too polished to save lives?”

Maya giggled, feeling lighter. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, then…” He stepped toward the door, pausing just before leaving. “Try not to fall for the good looks. The brain’s the real asset.”

He winked.

Maya blinked, taken off guard by the charm.

She dropped onto the plush couch, her body sinking into the cushions as she let out a quiet sigh. Her lips pressed into a thin line. This is going to be boring.

She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, aimlessly flipping through channels. Her fingers moved slowly, pausing on each one as she searched for something—anything—that might tell her what was happening outside in the world she couldn’t remember.

She scrolled to the news section, hoping to catch a headline, a familiar face, or a clue.

But nothing.

Frowning, she went through each channel again. No news. No documentaries. Just entertainment—romantic dramas, sitcom reruns, reality shows.

She sighed, slumping further into the couch. Great. A mansion full of silence, and no window to the world outside.

Still, not wanting to overthink it, she settled on a random entertainment channel playing a cooking competition. The flashing lights and dramatic voiceovers were a distraction, if nothing else.

But something didn’t sit right with her.

Why would someone like Alejandro—a neurosurgeon—not have a single news channel available?

She shook the thought away and forced herself to watch.

Maya hadn’t realized when sleep had taken over her. The soft hum of the television and the plush comfort of the couch had lulled her into a slumber.

When her eyes fluttered open, darkness had swallowed the city. The TV still flickered, casting dull lights across the room. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, then turned her gaze toward the clock on the wall.

8:00 PM.

Alejandro still hadn’t returned.

Her throat felt dry. She stood, her feet padding silently against the cold floor as she made her way toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

But just as her fingers touched the glass, a faint sound drifted in from the garden—like rustling leaves. She paused.

Her breath caught.

Her heartbeat began to pick up. She swallowed hard, inching toward the glass door leading out to the garden. Everything seemed too quiet. Unnaturally still.

Then she saw it.

A shadow. A tall silhouette moving behind the bushes.

Maya’s breath quickened. Her feet moved slowly, silently. Step by cautious step, she approached, eyes fixed on the shifting figure.

She reached the bush, took a shaky breath, and leaned forward.

Suddenly—a blur of movement.

“Ahh!” she gasped.

A cat darted out, vanishing into the darkness.

Maya clutched her chest, heart racing, and exhaled a shaky laugh. “God… just a cat…”

She turned to go back inside—

And froze.

A man was standing there.

A tall, broad figure cloaked in a dark hoodie. His face shrouded in shadow.

In his hand—a glint of metal.

No... a knife.

Maya’s knees buckled and she stumbled back, landing on the ground with a painful thud. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as the man stepped toward her, silent and deliberate.

She scrambled back, her palms scraping against the stone path.

“No—please—” she whimpered.

The man advanced.

Maya pushed to her feet in a blind panic and bolted, barefoot and terrified, through the garden path.

Branches scraped her arms, cold air whipped against her skin, but she didn’t stop. The sound of footsteps behind her—the predator's rhythm—echoed in her ears.

She had no idea where she was running. Only that she had to survive.

The man was still following her.

His heavy footsteps echoed behind her like a death sentence, pounding in sync with her terrified heartbeat. He wasn’t running. He was stalking—like a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to go.

Maya ran faster, her breath ragged, feet scraping against the ground. She didn’t dare look back. All she could think of was escape. Survival.

Branches slashed against her arms. The wind bit at her skin. But she kept running—until the sound stopped.

Silence.

Maya halted, her chest heaving. She turned around, eyes scanning the shadows behind her.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No figure. Just the night whispering through the leaves.

Her pulse still thundered in her ears as she stepped backward cautiously. And then—

A hand clamped around her arm.

She screamed, pure terror tearing from her throat.

“Maya!”

She looked up, trembling—only to find Alejandro standing before her, his face etched with concern and alarm.

Relief crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her knees almost gave out.

Without thinking, she flung herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Her body shook violently as the fear finally caught up to her.

Alejandro froze, startled for a moment—but then he wrapped his arms around her tightly, protectively.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmured, gently stroking her hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Maya clung to him, her fingers curling into his shirt, seeking the warmth, the strength, the safety he offered. Her breath hitched, tears silently falling as she melted into his hold.

Alejandro rested his chin lightly against her head, his voice a low whisper in the night.

“Someone was here, Alejandro… I saw him. He—he was trying to kill me.”

Alejandro’s brows pulled together in a frown, his eyes scanning her face as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Who?” he asked softly, but firmly.

Maya shook her head, panic still clinging to her like a second skin. Her voice cracked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face… but he was here. I swear, Alejandro, he was right there.”

Alejandro cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking down her face.

“Hey… look at me.”

Her eyes met his—frightened, wide, searching.

“I believe you,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “It’s okay.”

Maya’s breathing was still uneven. Her body shivered under his touch.

“Sshh… sshh… let’s go inside and check, alright?” he said gently.

Maya shook her head quickly, gripping his shirt.

“No. No, he must still be out there. We have to find him.”

Alejandro’s eyes darkened with protectiveness, but his tone stayed calm.

“Maya, I’m with you. I won’t let anything happen. Let’s go together. We’ll check everything. I promise.”

Something in his steady gaze made her nod slowly.

He wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close, and together they walk inside the mansion.

Alejandro scanned every inch of the garden and the perimeter of the mansion, but there was nothing. No footprints. No broken branches. No sign of an intruder.

Maya’s eyes darted around, desperate and restless. She walked toward Alejandro, her breath shaky, her voice cracking with urgency.

“Alejandro, he was right here. I swear—I’m not lying.”

Alejandro turned to face her, his expression gentle yet concerned. He placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her.

“Hey… relax,” he said softly. “Breathe. I looked through the entire garden, even around the outer fence. There’s no one.”

Maya’s eyes filled with frustration and disbelief.

“But I saw him.”

Alejandro nodded slowly, his tone calm but firm.

“Maya… I know this is overwhelming. But you’re suffering from amnesia. Sometimes the mind creates illusions—especially when it’s trying to make sense of trauma. It’s not your fault. It’s a known effect. It’s normal.”

Maya shook her head fiercely, her voice rising.

“No, it wasn’t an illusion! I saw him… He was tall, wearing a hoodie, and he had a knife.”

Alejandro’s expression didn’t change, but his voice dipped lower, more attentive.

“Did he hurt you?”

She answered immediately, “No… but he was trying to. I ran and—he followed me.”

Alejandro tilted his head slightly, gently cupping her cheek to make her look at him.

“Okay… listen to me. If someone really wanted to hurt you, he would’ve attacked right then and there. He wouldn’t have just followed you. The mind—especially after trauma—can misinterpret fear as reality. I’ve seen it in patients before. You're not crazy. You're healing.”

Maya’s lips quivered. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to feel safe. But that shadow… that knife—it had felt too real.

Alejandro’s thumb brushed a tear that had escaped down her cheek.

“Give it time,” he whispered. “You’ll remember more, and the fear will pass. But until then… I promise, I’ll keep you safe.”

Even though a part of her still trembled with unease, Maya gave a small nod. She didn’t want Alejandro to think she was losing her mind—not when he had done so much for her. Not when he was the only person she could lean on right now.

Alejandro gently wrapped

an arm around her shoulders and guided her inside. His touch was warm, reassuring—but Maya’s gaze lingered.

Just before crossing the threshold, she turned her head one last time. Her eyes locked onto the shadowy spot where the man had stood. The garden looked calm now. Almost too calm. As if nothing had ever happened.