Chapter 127 Anya
I opened my eyes.
Everything was white and bright. I blinked, trying to focus.
I was in a room. Clean, expensive and unfamiliar.
Where was I?
"She is waking up," a male voice said.
A face appeared above me. Handsome and scarred.
"Anya," he said. "Thank God. You are awake."
I stared at him, tried to place his face. But my mind was blank.
"Who are you?" I asked. My voice was weak.
His expression changed from relief to concern. "What?"
"Who are you?" I repeated. "Where am I?"
The man stepped back and called over his shoulder. "Doctor! Come quickly!"
More people entered. A doctor and nurses. All moving around me, checking machines, taking my pulse.
"Mrs. Volkov," the doctor said. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," I said. "But I do not understand. Who is Mrs. Volkov?"
The doctor and the man exchanged looks.
"You are Anya Volkov. My wife." The handsome man said calmly.
I stared at him. This stranger claiming to be my husband.
"I do not remember you," I whispered.
"What do you remember?" the doctor asked.
I thought hard. Tried to find memories. Any memories.
But there was nothing. Just blank space.
"Nothing," I admitted. "I do not remember anything."
The doctor pulled the man aside and spoke in low voices
The man returned to my bedside. His face was carefully neutral.
"My name is Alexei," he said. "Alexei Volkov. We have been married for six months."
"Six months?" I repeated.
"Yes," Alexei said. "You had an accident. You were in the bath and you slipped. You hit your head. You have been unconscious for two weeks."
I touched my head and felt bandages. But there was no pain. Where I felt pain was on my left wrist.
"I do not remember any of that," I said.
"The doctor says you might not," Alexei said. "The injury caused memory loss. But it is okay. I am here. I will help you remember."
I looked at this handsome stranger. My husband, apparently and tried to feel something. Recognition. Love. Anything. But I felt nothing.
"I am sorry," I said. "I do not mean to forget you. I just... cannot remember."
"It is not your fault," Alexei said. He took my hand. His touch was gentle with a smile that didn't sit quite well with me. "We will get through this together."
Over the next days, Alexei stayed with me constantly. He told me stories about our life together.
"We met at a charity event," he said one afternoon. "You were wearing a blue dress. You looked so beautiful I could not look away."
"What happened then?"
"I introduced myself," Alexei continued. "We talked all night. About everything. Art. Music. Philosophy. I fell in love with you that very night."
The story sounded romantic. But it felt wrong somehow.
"How long before we married?" I asked.
"Six months," Alexei said. "I know it was fast. But when you know, you know."
I nodded. But doubt lingered in my mind.
"Why do I not have any pictures?" I asked. "Of our wedding. Of us together."
Alexei's expression darkened slightly. "They were lost in a fire. Three months ago. It destroyed everything. Everything from before."
"Okay." I nodded.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "I am sorry. I just... I wish I could remember."
"You will," Alexei assured me. "The doctor says memories can come back. It just takes time."
But weeks passed and nothing came back.
My mind remained blank.
Alexei was kind to me. He gave me space when I needed it. He never pushed. He told me about my life. My preferences. My habits.
"You love classical music," he said. "Especially Tchaikovsky."
"You hate spicy food."
"You always sleep on the left side of the bed."
I tried to believe him. Tried to feel like these things were true.
But I felt nothing. No connection. No recognition.
One day, Alexei showed me a room. "This was going to be the nursery."
I looked at the empty space. "Nursery?"
"We were trying for a baby," Alexei said softly. "Before your accident. You wanted children so badly."
"Did I?" I asked.
"Yes," Alexei said. He looked sad. "You talked about it all the time. About the family we would build together."
"I am sorry," I said. "I wish I could remember."
"Stop apologizing," Alexei said. He pulled me into a hug. "This is not your fault. None of it is."
I let him hold me and tried to feel safe in his arms.
But I did not.
One evening, I was looking through a closet. Searching for something. I did not know what.
That was when I found a small knife. Hidden behind boxes.
I pulled it out and stared at it.
Why did I have this? Why was it hidden?
"Anya?" Alexei's voice made me jump. "What are you doing?"
I turned, holding up the knife. "I found this. Why do I have it?"
Alexei's face went pale. "Where did you get that?"
"In the closet," I said. "Behind the boxes."
He crossed the room quickly and took the knife from my hand. "You should not have this."
"Why not?"
"Because..." Alexei hesitated. "Because before your accident, you were depressed. You tried to hurt yourself. That is why you have the scars on your wrist."
I looked down and saw the scars. It was faint already.
"I did this to myself?" I whispered, my voice low.
"Yes," Alexei said gently. "You were struggling. I should have seen it. I should have helped you sooner."
"Why was I depressed?"
"I do not know," Alexei admitted. "You would not talk about it. You just kept saying you wanted it all to end."
I felt sick. Had I really tried to kill myself? Had I been that unhappy?
"I am better now," I said. Though I was not sure if it was true.
"I know," Alexei said. He threw the knife away. "And I will make sure you stay better. I will never let you hurt yourself again."
The way he said it sent chills down my spine. It wasn't comforting It was possessive.
But I pushed the feeling away. He was my husband. He loved me. He was trying to protect me.
Weeks turned into months. My memories did not return.
Alexei suggested we renew our vows. "To start fresh. A new beginning for both of us."
"Are you sure?" I asked, feeling uneasy.
"Absolutely," Alexei said. "I want you to know how much I love you. How committed I am to this marriage."
So we planned a small and intimate wedding. Just us and a few people I do not remember.
The day came. I wore white. Alexei wore black. We stood before a priest.
"Do you, Anya, take Alexei to be your husband?"
I looked at Alexei. At this man I did not remember. This man who claimed to love me.
I should say no. I should figure out why everything felt wrong.
But where would I go? What would I do? I had no memories. No past. No one else.
Alexei was all I had.
"I do," I said.
"And do you, Alexei, take Anya to be your wife?"
"I do," Alexei said, smiling that unsettling smile. His voice was firm.
"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Alexei kissed me gently. But I could tell he was trying his best to hold back.
And I felt nothing.