Page 5

My head is foggy, and my eyes feel heavy. I try to open my eyes, but it's like gravity pulling them back down the moment I lift them. It takes a few times before I can keep them open and see the blur of what I think is a person sitting beside my bed.

“W—who are you?”

I try to focus on what I’m seeing, but it’s so hard because I’m so tired.

“Get some more sleep, little doe, I'll keep watch for you,”

a deep male voice says. His presence feels familiar somehow, but I can’t remember why. I close my eyes again, letting his voice lull me back into sleep.

Something is tugging at my arm, I sigh out of annoyance and open my eyes to see it’s that nurse—Kathy, I think—changing the tube that is connecting my arm to the IVs.

“Sorry deary, did I wake you?”

she asks with a kind smile.

“Y—yeah,”

I sort of whisper. My voice isn’t coming through properly, and my throat still feels like it’s burning. But that might be from the crying too.

A pang of sadness hits me when I start to remember what happened yesterday. I’m still in the hospital, so I guess I didn't just make it all up. She can’t really be gone because if she is, I didn’t just lose my friend, but also my sister. I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s really gone.

My family never truly cared for me. All they did was complain about how much I cost them until they decided I had to buy my own food, and then it was the household bills, so I worked overtime to pay the rent, food, and electricity. You would think that after that, they wouldn’t complain anymore. But no, it was always something until I had no other choice but to drop out of school. I had to work hard, hide money, and get myself enrolled into a community college while working so I could get out of that shithole of a house and still make a life for myself –before I lost myself completely.

It was hard, and Mara was the only one who knew about all of that– who supported me and helped me through it all. Now if she’s gone, what the fuck am I going to do? Who am I going to go to for support? She is all I know. I don’t even have tears anymore; I think my eyes have dried out by now.

Trying to distract myself from the bad thoughts, I look at the empty chair next to me, feeling slightly disappointed seeing there is no one there. Did I imagine the man? Was that my so-called husband?

The nurse turns around, seeing me frown behind her.

“Ah, looking for your husband? He just went to grab a coffee. He has been sitting here all night.”

I guess I didn’t imagine that either.

“So, who is he? What’s he like?”

The nurse frowns at me and takes the chair I was looking at to sit down.

“You poor girl, he’ll be back soon, and then you two can talk. Maybe it can help refresh your memory.”

None of this makes sense.

I’d sure as hell know if I was married. Right?

She opens her mouth to say something, but then the world's hottest guy walks into my room holding a cup of coffee.

He is tall, like really, really tall. His shoulders are broad; he clearly works out a lot. His hair is short on the sides and long on the top in a dark brown colour, almost black. He looks at me with the most beautiful, clear blue eyes and smiles.

“Ah, sleeping beauty has finally awoken,”

he says with a smile. Maybe I could get into this marriage thing after all.

The nurse looks from him back at me.

“Do you remember him now?”

she asks, worry edged in her tone.

“Don’t worry, love, take the time you need,”

he says with a smile. Why would he be smiling about that? His eyes soften as he looks at me staring at him, bewildered. The nurse gets up and leaves us alone.

The way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters, makes my heart bounce harder, but it also makes me suspicious. How did I even find a man like that? He could be straight from the romance books I read. Well, not really, since those men are huge red flags, but still.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?”

He keeps that damn smile on his face. It’s unnerving, but also nice to look at. He takes the chair and moves it closer before he sits next to me. He leans back with his legs open, one arm on his leg, the other holding his coffee.

“I’m your husband. The doctor told me not to strain your memory, so I won't give you too many details yet, but we met in 2020, on the New Year, actually.”

He says the word ‘husband’ so casually like he’s been saying it for a long time. It feels odd that I met him two months after the last day I remember. But I shouldn’t get too paranoid, it’s probably a coincidence. People meet during New Year's all the time.

“Are you really who you claim to be? I lost a lot already, I don’t want to add more to that.”

My eyes are burning, and they feel puffy, and it feels like there's something stuck in my throat the moment I think about the possibility of Mara no longer being in my life.

He places his cup on the floor next to his chair and gets up to hold my hand.

I pull away from him, causing him to frown.

“I told you I’m your husband. You can check our wedding papers if you don’t believe me,”

he states, slight annoyance in his tone.

“I don’t recall marrying you,”

I snap at him a little too rudely. I know I shouldn’t, but something tells me that there are things not adding up. If only I could just remember what that was.

He sighs and sits back down, picks up his coffee, and takes a sip.

“This amnesia is definitely not going to make things easy, but we’ll get through it. One step at a time, right?”

He looks worried, and something else I can’t fully name. Maybe I’m hurting him with my questions?

“I’m sorry, I’m tired and I feel like none of this is real. I just want to go back to when I actually remember what was happening.”

I sob slightly.

He moves forward and kisses my forehead.

“Do you want to see pictures of us together?”

Before I can answer him, he grabs his phone and turns it to me. He shows me pictures of us lying on the couch, at a picnic, me in a wedding dress. How can I not remember any of this?

I gape at the pictures. This really looks like we are married. I try to think about my past, but my head is blank, and all I remember is me and Mara moving her stuff from college.

He takes in my silence and brushes his hand softly against my cheek.

“Don’t worry, love, you hit your head pretty hard. Try to rest so I can take you home soon.”

There’s sympathy in his eyes. He seems too good to be true, but maybe that’s a good thing. These last couple of hours have been horrible and confusing. I lost my friend, even if I don’t want to admit it. She would have been here already if she were still alive. I close my eyes again, letting sleep overtake me. I’m too tired to fight it all.

I feel soft lips pressed against my forehead and soft murmurs I can’t fully hear before sleep grabs me again.