Taya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind spinning. The remnants of last night's actions haunted her like a shadow, clinging to her thoughts. She had kissed him—*him*, the man she had always desired in her past life. A man whose presence had filled her heart with longing, a man she had never dared approach. Yet now, here she was, reckless, foolish, intoxicated by more than just wine.
*What have I done?* she thought, her breath shallow. She had felt a strange connection to him, something that transcended mere attraction. It was like a force, pulling her toward him, as if her very soul recognized him, even when her mind resisted. And the kiss—how could she have done that? She had never been so bold, so audacious.
The events from the garden felt like a fever dream, a blurred line between fantasy and reality. She had thought him to be Orig Dessmann, the man who had once been her husband in a past life, the man she had loved from afar. And yet, it hadn't been him. The man she had kissed was someone else entirely, a stranger who looked like him, but was not him. The thought caused a pang in her chest. How could she mistake one person for another like that? Was her longing so deep, her need for closeness so desperate that she had projected her desires onto this man?
But what if—what if it was Orig, after all? The possibility gnawed at her, a bitter hope she couldn't ignore. She had seen something in his eyes that made her wonder if he knew her, if there was recognition in his gaze when they spoke. His voice, though different, had stirred something inside her, something that made her believe that he might have once been hers, in some distant, forgotten time.
Taya closed her eyes and clenched her fists. *No,* she thought. *You can't think like this. He's not yours. Not anymore. And he never was, not truly.* She had to stop fooling herself. She had to focus on the present and what was real. What happened in the past was irrelevant now.
As if on cue, the sharp knock on her door broke her thoughts. Taya groaned, her head still pounding. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to wallow in her confusion and regret. But the knocking persisted, louder this time. She pulled herself from the bed, her limbs heavy with the weight of the previous night's indulgence, and shuffled to the door.
Opening it revealed a servant, her face polite but serious.
"Lady Taya," the servant said, "Your presence is requested by Lord Orig. He wishes to speak with you."
Taya's heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. She tried to steady herself, but her mind raced. *Orig? Here?* She had just been thinking about him, and now—now he wanted to see her?
The servant seemed to notice her hesitation. "The Lord is waiting in the garden, my lady," she added, her voice calm and patient.
Taya nodded stiffly, muttering a quiet, "Thank you," as she stepped back and closed the door. Her pulse quickened. *What could he possibly want?*
She quickly composed herself, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat. She couldn't go to him looking disheveled, not after the scene she had caused the night before. She took a few moments to gather her thoughts, straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair. She needed to look composed, to appear in control. There was no telling how Orig would react to what had transpired.
When she felt ready, she made her way toward the garden, her steps hesitant yet determined. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the moment she had been dreading—if he had come to confront her about the kiss, about the confusion she had caused. Was he angry? Would he scorn her, cast her aside as a foolish woman? Or would he be just as enigmatic as always, leaving her to unravel the mystery of his feelings alone?
As she stepped into the moonlit garden, she saw him. He was standing near the oak tree, his posture straight, his dark silhouette blending with the night. His black hair shimmered under the moon's glow, and his eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness, waiting for her. Taya's breath caught in her throat as their gazes met.
"Lady Taya," he greeted her, his voice low and steady, betraying no emotion. "I trust you are well?"
His words, though polite, held a weight she couldn't quite place. Taya swallowed hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest.
"I'm fine, my lord," she replied, her voice steady but betraying a hint of uncertainty.
He studied her for a moment, his gaze intense. "Last night was... unexpected," he said after a long pause, his voice colder than she remembered. "You seem to be under some misunderstanding."
Taya's heart sank. She had hoped for an explanation, some clue as to why he had come to see her. But his words were like a wall, cold and unyielding. "I apologize if my actions were out of line," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I had too much to drink, and... I did not mean to offend."
Orig's eyes softened for a brief moment, but only for a second before his stoic expression returned. "You were not the only one who was affected," he said cryptically. "I find myself wondering what it is you truly want, Lady Taya."
Taya blinked, confused by the question. What did she want? She had been asking herself that very same question for days. Her feelings, her desires, everything was tangled up in a web she could not escape.
"I—I'm not sure," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know what I want. I only know that something about this feels... familiar. Like I've known you before. Like I've been here before."
Orig's eyes flickered with something unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to slow around them, the air thick with unspoken tension. Taya felt herself leaning toward him, drawn by some invisible force. But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed.
"You're not mistaken," Orig said quietly, his tone shifting once more. "But you should be careful. The past is not something you can simply resurrect. And neither am I."
Taya froze, her heart aching at his words. She had been foolish to think that anything could come from this. She had built up a fantasy in her mind, one that could never come true. Orig was not her husband. He was not the man she had loved in another life. He was a stranger, and she had to accept that.
But deep down, she couldn't help but wonder: *Was he really a stranger, or was something more hidden beneath the surface?*
Before she could speak again, Orig turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the garden, alone with her thoughts.
Taya watched him disappear into the darkness, her heart heavy with the weight of unanswered questions. The moon above seemed to reflect the emptiness inside her, as if the night itself were mourning with her.