Page 1 of Lust & Lies

NOELLE

FIRST, THERE WAS ONLY darkness.

Then there was a blinding light that made me close my eyes again as I tried to process what was going on. An eerie silence greeted me. No. It wasn’t silence. I heard sounds, but they were muffled as if the world had been buried under layers of cotton.

I slowly reopened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the brightness. I squinted up at the light overhead. It wasn’t as harsh as I first believed. I blinked, my eyes further adjusting as the world around me became clearer.

A low beep echoed somewhere nearby. I inhaled, a faint scent wafting over me. A scent that seemed out of place yet was somewhat familiar. My gaze drifted left, landing on a man seated beside me.

His head was bowed slightly, his chin resting against a closed fist, and his elbow braced on the edge of the bed. His eyes were shut, and he looked like he hadn’t moved in hours. I studied him, taking in his appearance.

He was handsome, I’d give him that. His tan skin and almond-shaped eyes let me know he was Asian, but I wasn’t sure what part of Asia he came from. South Korea, maybe? He had long eyelashes, and his hair was dark and short.

He had a chiseled jawline and shoulders that filled out the tailored lines of his shirt. His black suit jacket had been folded and placed across his lap. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing strong forearms.

Yeah, he was handsome, but who was he and why was he here? More importantly, where was here? I tried to move, but it hurt to do so. Wincing, I held myself still, waiting for the pain to fade. My slight movement awakened the stranger next to me.

His eyes fluttered open and widened after he blinked a few times. A look of relief passed over his face, then something else, something I couldn’t decipher. His lips parted, and his words came out in a deeper tone than I’d expected.

“Baby, you’re awake. Good. God, I’ve been so worried. For a while there, I thought I’d lost you.”

Baby?

Was he talking to me? My confusion must’ve been written all over my face, because he looked at me more closely now, dark gaze peering into mine.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asked, voice still groggy from sleep.

I wanted to say yes. That would be the natural response, right? However, the truth washed over me like ice water, chilling me to the bone. I had no idea who he was, while he was staring at me like he’d known me forever.

Hands at my sides, I gripped the sheets, a strange unease crawling up my spine. Who was he? He’d called me baby. That meant I knew him, meant I was special to him. Yet, I’d never seen this man before in my life.

The harder I searched my mind for answers, the more questions I found. I didn’t know this man. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what day it was. Hell, I didn’t even know what year it was. What was wrong with me?

“I...” My voice came out hoarse. I swallowed and tried again. “Who... are you?”

Something passed over his face, something quick, subtle. If I’d blinked, I might have missed it. Disappointment? Hurt? Relief? Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it appeared. The stranger smiled at me. But I could tell it was forced because it didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s okay. The doctor warned me that you may not remember me. I just want you to know you’re safe,” he murmured, reaching for my hand.

His skin was warm, his touch gentle. Yet, it felt foreign to me.

I licked my dry lips and asked again, “Who are you?”

His expression softened a bit when he said, “I’m your husband.”

Husband? I yanked my hand back before I could stop myself. Pain flared up my arm. And that’s when I noticed the IV in my hand.

“Careful,” he told me. “It took them a long time to find a vein. I don’t want them to have to stick you again. I can’t stand seeing you in pain.”

My gaze searched his. He appeared truly concerned for me, as a husband should. But if he were my husband, why didn’t I remember him? This felt wrong. It felt... uncomfortable. Unbelievable. Husband? Why did I have to take his word for it? Why was I alone with him?

I shook my head. “I don’t... I don’t know you.” I could feel a panic attack coming on. “I’ve never seen you before. I...”

“Calm down, love,” he muttered, reaching for me but stopping just short of touching me when I shrank away from him. “I know this is hard on you, baby,” he continued, hands hovering over mine. “The doctor said it might take time.”

Time for what? What doctor?

“He said you may be a bit disoriented and in pain when you woke up. I won’t rush you to remember. But please don’t move around too much. I don’t want you to do anything to hurt yourself.”

His words were only confusing me further. Heart racing, I glanced around the hospital room, trying to force something, anything, to click into place. I was in a hospital. That much was obvious.

But why? What happened to me, and why couldn’t I remember? My gaze drifted right. The window revealed a rainy day and a blurred cityscape. That wasn’t very helpful. I looked down at my arm and the thin IV line taped to my hand.

I forced my focus back on him. “What happened to me?”

There was a flicker of hesitation before he answered. “There was an accident.”

An accident? Those two words caused the dull ache in my head to worsen. I closed my eyes. The moment I did, I saw something, remembered something.

Headlights.

A jolt.

A loud crash.

Pain.

I gasped, opening my eyes. What was that? The accident, maybe? I stiffened when his fingers brushed my knuckles again, this time lighter, as if he expected I might recoil. I wanted to. I truly wanted to.

“You’ve been unconscious for a while,” he told me. “They said it’s normal to be disoriented when you wake up. I know you may feel lost right now. But your memory will return. Things may seem confusing for a while. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

He choked up on the last word, tears shimmering in his dark gaze. This stranger had tears in his eyes... for me.

“Why don’t I remember you?” I whispered.

A small pause. “It’ll come back to you,” he murmured. “Our life together, all the time we’ve spent together. It’ll come back. Give it time.”

“I don’t feel married,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch, didn’t scowl, didn’t insist that he was my husband.

He simply lifted my left hand, letting me see the gold band glinting against my skin.

A wedding ring. I was wearing a wedding ring.

His thumb traced the ring slowly, carefully, as if he were committing the sight of it to memory.

“I’ll never forget the day I slid this ring onto your finger,” he told me. “It was one of the happiest days of my life. I’m confident that you’ll soon remember it, too, my love.”

His gaze rose to mine. I should’ve pulled away. However, the intensity of his gaze held me immobile, making it even harder for me to think straight. Was this man really my husband? Was the day he slid this ring onto my finger the happiest day of my life, also?

A knock at the door released me from my trance. My gaze jerked to the door as I tried to pull my hand away from the stranger’s. But he held on tight, not letting me go. An older gentleman in a white coat entered, his blue eyes sweeping over me.

“Good to see you awake, Noelle,” he stated. “I’m Dr. Mercer.”

Noelle.

Was that my name? Wait. I didn’t just not know this man. I didn’t even know my name. Another wave of panic washed over me. The man who claimed to be my husband seemed to sense my distress. He gave my hand, which he wouldn’t let go of, a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay, love,” he told me, then turned to the doctor. “She’s been awake for about ten minutes this time.”

“Good,” Dr. Mercer smiled. “That’s good. Her vitals are approaching normal ranges, which means she’s out of the woods now.”

The man next to me faced me again, smiling. “You hear that, love? That’s good news.”

Ignoring him, I spoke to the doctor. “What happened to me?” I asked as Dr. Mercer checked the monitor beside me before flipping through a chart.

“You suffered a head injury in a car accident. Physically, you’re healing well. But there’s a complication.”

“What kind of complication?” I asked.

He glanced at the man beside me before meeting my eyes. “You have traumatic amnesia.”

The words didn’t fully register. I had to repeat them over and over again in my mind before they began to sink in. Amnesia. Me? I had amnesia? My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “What does that mean?”

“It means your brain is having trouble processing memories from before the trauma caused by your accident. Right now, it’s not that your memories are erased. It’s just your brain isn’t accessing them properly.”

A sick, twisting sensation curled in my stomach. “So... will I ever remember?”

“Possibly,” he told me, flipping through my chart. “With traumatic amnesia, memories tend to come back in pieces, childhood memories first, recent memories later. Unfortunately, some memories may never return at all.”

“But... But... I remember some things. I know this is an IV. I know the term for you is doctor.”

“Yes, but do you remember the name of your primary care doctor or how he looks? Do you remember the last time you had an IV?”

Did I? I tried to recall either of those things. But there was nothing there. Nothing.

My hands clenched the sheet. “I’m sure I’ll remember it if I try hard enough, if I force myself to.”

His gaze softened. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Why not?”

“Because pushing too hard could cause more distress. Your brain is protecting itself right now, processing things at its own pace. Forcing it could lead to anxiety, confusion, and even false memories.”

“False memories?”