Shadows of Desire

Fragments of the Past

Catalina's PoV

It had been a month since I was rescued by a man whose name I still barely knew. I had lost all my memories, leaving me disoriented and confused. He had been patient, trying to help me recover my memories piece by piece, but nothing seemed to stick. Sometimes, I questioned whether I had ever met him before or if he had some other, more sinister motive. The father of my child was a ghost in my mind, and I struggled with the thought of where he had gone and why he had disappeared.

The man who had rescued me seemed more like a stranger who had coincidentally appeared at the right time, but something about him made me feel that he was more my type. Slowly, I started to like hik despite the nagging doubts. He showed me pictures-images of a time when I seemed genuinely happy. In some, I was kissing him, but in others, I was choking him. I couldn't understand why I would hurt someone who seemed so kind and patient.

He took care of the baby whenever he cried, and I saw the tenderness in his actions. Despite my confusion, he was a caring figure, and I began to wonder why my memories of him were so conflicted. Whenever he called the baby Ziare, I felt a flicker of recognition, like a fragment of a memory trying to surface.

One day, while looking at a picture of us in a hot air balloon, a sharp pang of recollection hit me. I winced as I saw myself looking down at a city from above. I remembered the feeling of the wind and the awe of the view, but the details were foggy. I recalled turning around to see him saying something, though the words eluded me. The memory was followed by a kiss, a moment of connection that felt both intimate and distant.

Who was this man truly? Why did he seem so familiar and yet so foreign? And where was the father of my child? My mind was a labyrinth of lost memories and half-formed thoughts, and I was desperate to piece together the puzzle of my past.

I looked up at him, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes. I wasn't sure where the name came from, but it popped into my head as if summoned by some hidden memory. "Dominic...?" I said quietly.

The man's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. "You know my name?!" he exclaimed, his smile stretching wide.

I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. "I still don't exactly remember anything. I'm sorry," I said, trying to manage my irritation.

He smiled reassuringly. "It's alright. Take your time. I'll keep Ziare entertained," he said, nodding toward our baby.

I looked at my son, Ziare, and then back at Dominic. The resemblance between them was striking; Ziare looked exactly like Dominic, almost like a miniature version of him. The realization hit me hard. Could it be possible that Dominic was the real father of my son? If that was the case, it would explain why I felt such a strange familiarity with him.

I turned my attention back to the pictures scattered around. Among them, I found a wedding photo of me and Dominic. We were both dressed in formal attire, looking happy and united. The sight of it was both comforting and confusing.

I glanced down at my hands, noting the absence of a wedding ring. This only added to the frustration. How could I be married to Dominic and not even remember it? Everything felt like a tangled web of confusion and misplaced memories.

The more I tried to piece together the fragments of my past, the more I felt lost. Dominic was my husband, but why did I not recall our life together? Why was everything so disjointed? The lack of answers left me feeling increasingly agitated and disheartened.