Leon sat upright in the hospital bed, brows furrowed as he stared at Ella like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
His eyes swept over her—slowly, hungrily—taking in every detail. The way her shoulders tensed when he looked at her. The way her fingers curled slightly, like she was holding back something sharp and heavy.
And then he did something that made her breath hitch.
He reached out—tentatively at first—his fingertips brushing the strands of her hair from her face.
"You… feel familiar," he murmured. "Why does my chest hurt when you look away?"
Ella's heart twisted.
She wanted to pull away. To remind herself that this wasn't the same Leon—the dangerously obsessive man who once burned the world to keep her beside him.
But then he smiled. Soft. Curious. Childlike.
And it broke her.
Because even without the memories, his instincts hadn't changed.
His hands still reached for her when she turned.
His voice still found hers in a crowd.
His soul… still remembered her name.
It was like standing in front of a mirror that had been shattered and reassembled. The shape was the same, but the cracks refracted everything—love, fear, grief—into something far more dangerous.
And yet, she couldn't look away.
She was the flame.
And Leon, even with no memory, still moved like the moth who'd rather die than not touch her.
That night, as she helped him settle into the hospital bed again, his hand gripped hers—strong, sure.
His voice was soft but possessive, and it sent shivers down her spine.
"Don't leave me," he whispered. "I don't know why… but I hate when you're not near."
Ella froze.
Because in that moment, she realized—
Even without remembering their past…
He was already falling for her all over again.