Four hours after the surgery, Jane Doe stirred, her throat parched and throbbing. A faint, dry cough roused the man sleeping in the adjacent bed. He slipped out with surprising agility and speed, approaching her bedside. “Miss, would you like some water? I can use a straw to help you drink.”

  She nodded slightly. “Yes, please,” she whispered.

  He poured some water and unwrapped a straw, inserting it into the cup. Seeing as Jane Doe’s lids were still tightly shut, he guided her with his words. “I’m going to drip some water in.”

  She complied, parting her mouth at his urging, taking small sips until she was satisfied. “That’s enough, thank you.”

  Setting the cup aside, he started, “You seem a bit drowsy. Would you like to continue sleeping, or should I explain how you got here?”

  “I’m still a little groggy,” she rasped. “But you can tell me, I’m listening,”

  “Okay… do you remember approaching a driveway?”

  “Mm… I was trying to get help,” she murmured.

  He hesitated for a moment before saying, “That driver was me. I brought you here, the Walter Reed Military Medical Center. I’m a soldier and a doctor. You were shot in the shoulder and thigh; I performed the surgery, which took about nine hours. You can ask me anything about your condition.”

  A faint curve graced her pale, delicate lips. “I see. Thank you… for saving my life.”

  “You’re welcome… Right now, your focus should be on recovery. If you’re conscientious in your post-op care, you should be able to make a full recovery in two to three months.”

  As he spoke, her mind wandered. Where have I heard this voice before? Why does it sound so familiar? But he doesn’t seem to know me since he hasn’t called me by my name…

  “I’d like to call the police to take our statements,” she heard him say, disrupting her thoughts. “Do you have any objections?”

  At the question, Jane Doe’s lashes fluttered, and she blinked, her bleary eyes locking onto his. Recognition dawned almost instantly, and her breath hitched. “I–It’s you!” she exclaimed, as if she were testing reality. “A–Am I dreaming?”

  A flicker of realization crossed the man’s face, his brow furrowing slightly as the memory clicked into place. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “you’re not dreaming. You remember me?”

  “Yes! Yes, I do!” she blurted. “I didn’t get to thank you for saving me back then, and five years later, you somehow saved my life again! It must be fate! Thank you! Thank you! I can’t believe it!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Her animated reaction raised a smirk out of him. “You already thanked me just now. I thought you looked familiar when I was about to operate on you. But I only remembered where and when we met after you opened your eyes. They’re… unforgettable.”

  The image of her eyes had been etched in his mind, a shade so pale they seemed to hold only light, almost unreal, like crystals catching light, shimmering with hints of silver that shifted and danced with every subtle movement. He had never seen irises like that before—they seemed to cut through the darkness, penetrating and clear, reflecting light all on their own. They were truly the kind you only needed to see once but would remember for a lifetime.

  Jane Doe’s cheeks flushed, a faint pink spreading across her porcelain skin as she averted her gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  Is he a Casanova? she wondered, feeling a little uneasy.

  Although he had saved her life twice now, they were essentially strangers. She quickly pivoted. “By the way, my name’s Sana. What’s yours?”

  “Seven,” he hummed, still spellbound.

  “Like the number?” Sana’s timbre hitched.

  “Yes.”

  She blinked, recalling the unusual name. “At the time, when I regained consciousness, I realized I was in a medical bay. I was clad in an oversized uniform with a ‘7’ on the nametag. That was yours, wasn’t it?” Her question was rhetorical.

  “Yes.”

  Sana’s vision became filmy, and her fingers trembled as they unconsciously clutched the bedsheet; the chilling memory of being chained to a bed in only her underwear involuntarily resurfaced.

  Not only did he save me, but he also protected my modesty.

  “Thank you,” she muttered. “Thank you for everything, Seven.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Seven mused. “It was the least I could do.”

  After what seemed like an eternity, Sana finally gathered herself. “Seven, could you help me contact my family? And yes, please call the police. We need to give our statements. We’ll figure out the rest later… is that okay?”

  Seven inclined his head and motioned for the door. “I left my phone in the office. Give me a couple of minutes...”

  “Okay,” Sana mumbled as she stared blankly at his departing silhouette, a whirlwind of emotions going through her.

  Is this real, or is this just a new dream where he fades away again?

  Her thoughts drifted back to that fateful day. She had found herself in the clutches of human traffickers. Heavily sedated, her mind blurred in and out of focus, and she gradually lost track of time. As her life hung by a thread, a mysterious man appeared and whisked her away to safety.

  When she came to, she found herself in a NATO military medical bay. She was told she’d been in a coma for three days straight.

  To her disappointment, she never saw her savior again. But his heroic face was forever seared in her memory. His features were striking: a crew cut that accentuated his widow’s peak, a rectangular face with a chiseled jaw, a pronounced bend just below his glabella, and a medium-sized, straight nose with a well-proportioned tip. His deep-set, ocean-blue eyes were soul-stirring, and his smooth, full lips were set above a prominent chin that gave him an irresistibly masculine edge.

  Over the years, she would occasionally meet him in the realm of her dreams. It was the same recurring dream—after rescuing her from her captors, her savior would disappear into the mist.

  But this time, she noticed many striking differences. Five years ago, he looked leaner and almost boyish. Now, a stubble shadowed his jawline, his hair was longer and slightly tousled, and his muscular physique had filled out, giving him a ruggedly commanding presence. Most importantly, this time, she had even learned his name!

  Circling back to the scene where Seven had disappeared, she hoped this wasn’t yet another fruitless dream.

  exactly how I imagined him when describing him in this chapter, just with slightly longer hair. Part dangerous, part heartbreaker… could he be your next book crush? ??

  https://www.youtube.com/shorts/nzQEP1t3QNw