PROLOGUE
EDEN
The energy of waves flows through the ocean from one side of the globe to the other.
Wind whips over the surface, carrying droplets in the icy atmosphere. The blustery force encircles my body with the power of a tsunami crushing ribs and forbidding air to my lungs. A usual winter’s day, only it’s exacerbated after Samuel bursts through the office door.
The door slams closed.
I suck air into my lungs, needing a moment before taking the stairs to my parents’ penthouse.
Samuel tightens his hold on my hand. “Hey, are you okay?”
I stare deeply into those blue eyes for the first time now we’re alone. The hues of his eyes remind me of the sea in summer, unlike the stormy, gray Southern Indian Ocean mere feet from the back door. There are many questions loaded on my tongue, only I need to focus on breathing, and all I want to do is feel him.
“Not really,” I murmur. “You’re so calm, and I feel electrified from the shock.” I shake my head still in disbelief.
“I’m not calm, Eden,” he says gently. “My heart is racing, and I’m trembling internally not knowing how this would go down.”
He tilts his head, and for a second, I see sadness in his eyes. Just as quick, his expression changes, distracted by Rose touching his shaven head. His face lights up, and he kisses Rose’s cheek, then leans in, and his lips crush mine. I touch him, taste him, and inhale his forest scent. He may have escaped the jungle, yet the aroma surrounds him as though ingrained into his skin.
Our lips part, he leans his forehead to mine, his eyes close, and I sense this is painful as is the overwhelming joy of us being together after what has passed.
“Let’s get upstairs,” I whisper. “I need to feel you.”
He spins, not letting go of my hand. Each step feels like twenty when all I want to do is fall into his arms and never let him go. I let go of his hand to unlock the door and shove it open, the impatience building. I make a beeline for the couch before my shaky legs give way. Samuel balances Rose on his hip and slides next to me, kissing my neck and cheek. Tiny kisses and then his mouth is on mine, reminding me how much I have missed him.
Rose slaps our cheeks as though it’s a game, and I laugh, breaking the kiss.
As much as he wants me, he’s not letting go of his daughter. She stands on his thighs, and he balances her with the other arm that’s not curled around my shoulders.
“Dad-da needs to kiss Mommy,” he coos at her.
Resting my forehead on his shoulder, I can’t hold it in any longer.
I burst into tears.
Tears of happiness.
Tears of relief.
My stomach clenches.
The happiness I have longed for hurts, an ache deep in my chest. A surge of emotions streams through me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I croak. “At least I could have prepared to not be a mess.”
“I’m sorry.” He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead. “But I’d still be a mess.”
I reach for his shaky hand draped over my shoulder. His body trembles against mine. Silent tears stream down his cheeks. He rests his forehead against mine while we take a moment to simply breathe and allow our bodies to calm some.
Mum walks into the room and finger-combs her windswept hair. “Here, let me take Rose.”
“I don’t want to let her go,” Samuel rasps.
“You both need time together,” Mum insists. “Get some rest. Rose isn’t going anywhere.”
I squeeze his thigh, the boniness prominent beneath the material of his trousers. His face is gaunt. The reality of him fighting to survive the past eight months hits me with the force of a wrecking ball.
“I think that’s a good idea.” My thoughts scramble. A long road of healing—physically and mentally—lie ahead of us. I stand and hold out my hands for Rose and kiss her cheek before giving her to Mum. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”
I lead Samuel to my room and pull him onto the bed with me. For a few seconds, we simply stare. For me, I’m still somewhat in disbelief.
“So, this is where you spent your nights,” he whispers. Rolling onto his back, Samuel looks around the room and then stares at the ceiling. “Every night I tried to imagine you sleeping. What you saw from your bed. Your room. You…” He kisses me again, and his hands roam, lightly scratching my skin.
“My room is basic. I’m not one for clutter.” I follow his gaze to an oil painting on my wall—a palm tree and the ocean. A snapshot of serenity. On my bedside table is a framed photograph of us taken while we were in Brazil.
Taking his hand between mine, I study his fingers. Scaly skin peels around his nails. Every nail is short and cracked. His palm has a callous beneath every joint.
“How long were you home before coming here?” I whisper.
His gaze darts over my face then his lip quivers, and his demeanor cracks. His body shakes, and as much as I want to hold him, heal him, he’s scaring me. “Hey, you’re here, and we’re all safe and together,” I say gently. He’s never cried like this. Not even when I was in the hospital, those were tears of a man stricken with worry. Before me is a broken man, and I can’t let go of the feeling I did this to him.
I cry with him. Our bodies are entangled together. The physical bond is not enough to stop the pain of our broken hearts.
He needs time to heal.
Inesa’s tragedy broke Samuel. He abandoned society, hid in the jungle, and denied himself love. His mission was to be a better man by helping others, a physician working for free. His promise to prove he’s a good man. That promise transformed into a commitment to the people he called family.
His loyalty is second to none.
He vowed to come home to me.
It almost killed him.
I make a silent promise to help him pick up the pieces and show him he’s worthy.
Prove my love for him is everything he’ll ever need.
For right now, I feel unworthy of this man’s love.
CHAPTER 1
EDEN
Two weeks later…
Happiness.
Many define it as the emotion of feeling extreme joy.
I’m now wiser in understanding I had to go through a period of complete sadness to experience the bliss, and I’m now riding the happiness wave every single day. From the moment I open my eyes, I feel only contentment waking up beside Samuel.
For months, I worried he might not come out of the jungle alive. If he survived the arduous trek through the jungle, finding seclusion for the Ularans’ safety came with a cost—the impossibility of finding his way out.
It’s been two weeks since he surprised me and burst through the office door, returning to me. A week where I cried, overwhelmed with many emotions. We’ve made love every single day, hugged each other, and sobbed or sat in silence simply to be together.
He’s still not ready to talk, only mentioning how the journey took every fiber of his being to find his way out.
Instead, he asked for time.
Time to heal.
Time to forget.
The thought of him traumatized by a dark memory fills me with terror—a silent scream slicing through my brain. The pain is an unforgotten memory of how I suffered when he was unconscious and almost lost to an unexplainable entity. In the dark of night, my anxiety heightens, reminding me of what I could lose.
For now, he’s content to be with Rose and me, and already his spirit has been lifted by being reunited as a family.
To help him focus on each day and not the past, I undertook a personal role as his tour host and showed Samuel around Adelaide. I was so relieved to see him smile and enjoy the coastal city I call my home, even if it’s significantly colder than what he’s used to.
The cracks are there.
Even in the way he holds Rose or takes her hand while she sleeps. His love for her warms my heart, yet something isn’t right, and it shows in his eyes. Beyond love is a flicker of uncertainty and fear. Here, he’s not the powerful man I knew in Ulara. Considering the trauma he has suffered, he needs to heal, and Rose and I may not be enough.
It’s why I need to see his smile and hear his laughter. Even now, while lying on his side on the beige carpet of the living room helping Rose build a tower with her blocks, the joy on his face is comforting. After taking him on a winery tour and a weekend away to a secluded beach house, it turns out he’s happiest here, playing with Rose. By focusing on activities so he’d fall in love with my city as much as me, I didn’t consider the toll on Samuel’s body during those initial weeks at home. He’s still awfully thin, and given he has not consumed alcohol for years, the two glasses of wine made him sick and drunk.
It was my first fail.
The second was buying clothes too big. He told me not to take them back as he’d fit into a medium size soon.
Soon.
Time to Samuel differs to the rest of us.
For years, he lived by morning time, noon time, night time, and moon phases. Not by the clock or calendar days of the year.
For the past two weeks, he has managed small healthy meals mainly of fruits and raw vegetables with some fish for protein. If he overeats, he vomits.
He refuses medical help and says he’ll be fine in a matter of time.
It’s hard to argue with a doctor.
When he first arrived, exhausted and gaunt, I went through a checklist, including private health and insurance options. In the few weeks he stayed in Los Angeles, his parents arranged the initial medical assessments and then helped him set up a financial plan to come to us. Even though I have not met his father, I understand good deeds come at a price, and Samuel has promised him to do the right thing. Working and supporting us doesn’t sound like a bad deal, only I know it holds more than meets the eye.
My experience in the jungle taught me how fate tested the balance of life and to never become complacent.
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