A stranger sat at her table, claiming to be her soulmate. He stared deeply into her eyes, as if searching for a sign—anything—that she would respond, speak, or make some acknowledgment. She blinked a few times, her mind racing. Do I even believe in soulmates? she wondered. A soft chuckle escaped her lips at the absurdity of it all. Why am I not creeped out?

She leaned back in her seat, her eyes still locked on his. The confusion and disbelief were evident in her expression, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something undeniably magnetic about him. He seemed so calm, so sure of himself. His gaze remained unwavering as he waited for her reaction.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're my soulmate?" Her voice held a mix of amusement and uncertainty.

His lips curled into a smile, and he let out a soft giggle, as if he was sharing a private joke. "I know how it sounds," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring.

She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly, studying him closely. Is he serious? Or is this some strange, elaborate joke? But then, something inside her stirred—a quiet, inexplicable pull. She found herself unable to look away from him. The nervousness mixed with curiosity and a tinge of excitement bubbled in her chest.

"I think you may have had a few too many, sir," she replied, trying to keep the situation light. She began to gather her belongings—her purse, her coat, everything to make a clean escape. But despite her best efforts, she felt an odd, almost magnetic attraction to him. His presence seemed to fill the air, making it hard to focus on anything else.

He stood up as she began to gather her things, stepping aside to allow her to pass. As she moved past him, she caught a whiff of his cologne—a scent that wasn’t familiar but somehow felt comforting. It was subtle, yet enticing. Why does this feel so… familiar?

His voice interrupted her thoughts. "You felt it, didn't you?" he whispered, his tone low and intimate. The words sent a shiver down her spine. Her heart raced as she looked at him, still processing the situation.

"Oh my," she thought, stunned. His voice… I could listen to that forever. It was warm, like a soft caress. Something about it made her feel safe, yet nervous at the same time.

"Let me walk you," he insisted. His eyes were unwavering, full of a quiet confidence that made it hard to refuse. She stood there, frozen for a moment, before giving in. Yeah, okay, she thought to herself, unsure why she agreed so easily.

They walked out of the restaurant together, the cool night air greeting them as they stepped onto the sidewalk. The streets were quiet, save for the sound of their footsteps. They made their way toward the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore growing louder with each step.

As they walked side by side, he gazed out at the moonlit ocean, his expression contemplative. She couldn’t help but follow his gaze, mesmerized by the way the light danced across the water. The night felt peaceful, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, a feeling she couldn’t quite place. She was acutely aware of him beside her, of his presence, his warmth.

Her hands slipped into her pockets, her fingers brushing against something unfamiliar. She pulled out a small piece of paper, crinkled and worn. It took her a moment to process what it was—a photo and a note. She stared at the photo in disbelief. The man standing in front of her, the stranger who had just called himself her soulmate, was smiling back at her from the picture.

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the note, her eyes scanning the carefully written words: I understand this is difficult, but you have short-term memory. This is your husband, who looks after you well.

She blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. The words felt unreal, like a dream or a cruel joke. My husband? she thought, her mind scrambling to make sense of it all. Why would he go through this?

She looked up at him, her face flushed with confusion, but there was something else there now too—something akin to trust, a small spark of recognition that she couldn't quite explain. "You're my husband?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He smiled softly, his gaze gentle. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with an almost tender care. His touch was warm, familiar, yet strange at the same time.

"Even if you can't remember it now," he said softly, "I’ll never forget the first time I saw you fall in love. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life, and I hope you always know that no matter what, that memory lives on in my heart. I never want to lose the feeling of that moment because it meant everything to me."

His words settled over her like a weight, the sincerity in his voice undeniable. She blinked, unable to fully comprehend the gravity of what he was saying, but somehow, deep down, she knew he meant it. It was as if something in her heart resonated with the truth of his words, even though her mind was still grappling with the sudden rush of information.

She smiled weakly, her emotions a tangled mess. How could this be real? she wondered. How could someone love me so completely, even if I can’t remember him?

But despite the uncertainty, despite the confusion swirling in her mind, there was a quiet sense of peace in the way he held her hand, in the way he looked at her as if she was everything. It was a feeling she couldn’t deny, a connection that transcended the unknown. And for the first time that night, she felt a flicker of hope—a spark that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.