chapter[32]

chapter[32]
CHAPTER 32


Noah.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity—though it was only a few agonizing hours—we arrived in Italy, the beautiful country that had always seemed like a dream destination. Those few hours had stretched endlessly, moving like an agonizing couple of decades for me, each minute weighing heavily on my heart. The weight of the moment hung thickly in the air, heavy with palpable tension and a sense of impending dread that clung to us like a shroud. She was drenched in sweat, her body clinging to my chest like a helpless baby, trembling slightly, shivering despite the warmth of my embrace. Her once-bright eyes, full of life and vigor, now seemed unfocused, as if she were wandering through a fog of lost memories, desperately struggling to reconnect with a past that felt so distant and elusive.

It was absolutely horrible, the feeling of helplessness that washed over me like a tidal wave, crashing relentlessly against the shores of my sanity! I felt utterly powerless, as though my hands were bound tightly, rendered completely immobile, their strength drained from my neck down to my shoulders, all the way to my wrists! It was an unbearable sensation, a deep, gnawing frustration that consumed me from within. Could anyone truly understand the depth of the pain I tried so hard to conceal within the confines of my chest? This was the worst experience I had ever endured, and the thought of her suffering was like a dagger twisting in my heart! I had once believed I owned the world; I thought I had everything—money, power, women, and success—but at that moment, it all felt meaningless and hollow. It was as if I was stripped of everything that mattered. Nothing I had could make her better, nothing at all!

I had done my research, delving deeply into her illness, and I knew she had as well. She had taken to scribbling notes wherever she could, desperately trying to grasp her situation and maintain some semblance of control over the chaos. Her notebook was filled with frantic scrawls, each page a testament to her struggle. She even wrote on her wrist, her skin marked by ink, and had a tattoo on her shoulder, each word a reminder of her fight against the void that threatened to swallow her whole and erase her existence.

Finally, after what seemed like an uphill battle against time and despair, I noticed that she had relaxed a bit, her body succumbing to sleep nestled in my arms. I didn’t want to wake her, especially not this time. I lifted her gently, cradling her as I walked slowly down the steps of the jet to my waiting limousine, every step feeling monumental. As I moved, I felt her pressing her head against my chest, a small, comfortable smile gracing her face. It filled me with relief to see her appear even slightly okay after everything she had endured, and I cherished this fleeting moment of peace.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, her voice a soft whisper that broke through the silence, "Your warm chest makes me feel safe. I wonder how a killer could give me this feeling."

I cleared my throat, a tremor running through me at her words, the weight of her statement crashing down on me like a wave. "What? A killer?" I zipped my mouth shut, not wanting to delve into that conversation right then. Instead, I carefully placed her down inside the limo, watching as she drifted back to sleep, her face serene and calm, as if she were in a world free from pain.

I zoned out, lost in my thoughts, a swirling tempest of emotions. What made her so sure? Did she know something about my past that I had kept buried deep within me, hidden from the world? I snapped back to reality when the driver announced we had arrived at the hospital, the words breaking through my reverie like a jolt of electricity.

I stepped out of the limo, ready to lift her again, but she tapped softly on my arms, her touch gentle yet firm. "It’s okay, Noah. I’m awake now. I can use my feet." Then she mouthed those three words that always made my heart race, "I love you, Noah."

I nodded, my heart swelling, helping her out of the limo with a tender touch. We walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, as if we were Siamese twins, glued together in our shared experience of love and fear. Yet, I felt a surge of fear, a gnawing apprehension creeping in like a shadow. Everything seemed to be returning to normal, and she was smiling continuously, which made me worry even more for her well-being. It felt like the calm before a storm, a deceptive tranquility that hid the chaos underneath. I feared losing her more than anything; the thought was suffocating, a weight on my chest that I couldn’t shake, each breath feeling like a struggle against an unseen force.

Once we entered the hospital, a flurry of doctors awaited us, ready to greet us with the urgency that our situation demanded. Selena turned her face toward me, curiosity etched across her features, her eyes searching mine for reassurance. I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her waist protectively, as if to shield her from the world outside. "Okay, I made a few calls to bring some specialists to Italy," I said, trying to reassure her, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Her brows shot up, and her jaw dropped in shock. "Few calls?! You called the whole world for God’s sake! How many doctors are here? You didn’t leave any for the others!"

I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Well, I have only one in my heart, and she means the whole world to me. You deserve the best care available."

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she whispered shyly, "You are the best husband, do you know that?"

My heart swelled with joy as I smiled brightly, my eyes gleaming with affection. "Really?"

She nodded, that small gesture filling me with warmth, but then a frown crossed her face as she huffed out of the blue, mumbling, "But the worst father ever! I’m a pregnant idiot! You totally forgot to bring me a gynecologist." She pushed me slightly, her tone laced with playful annoyance, disbelief flickering across her features, and I couldn't help but chuckle at her spiritedness.

I scrunched my nose, attempting to defend myself, my voice a mix of humor and sincerity. "I think I might have forgotten, but let’s go now and check on you first." I gently dragged her toward the check-up room, where the doctors promptly asked me to step outside, their professionalism evident as they took charge of the situation.

Inside, they began questioning her about her symptoms and the details of her lost memories. She sighed deeply, tugging her fingers nervously, her anxiety palpable as she spoke. "Well, I know my parents died, and my best friend Pamela, too. I know my mind refuses to accept this truth. I started calling them, searching for them, but deep down, I know they’re all gone, and nothing is left for me."

One of the doctors nodded, his expression serious but encouraging. "That’s good; it shows you have some awareness, and this is a positive sign for recovery. What else can you tell us?"

They all leaned in, paying close attention to her as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I forget everything about the characters in my novels. Once I finish a book, it’s as if I forget it entirely."

She blew out a breath, visibly frustrated, and continued, "The worst part is not remembering faces at all. That’s okay if they’re not significant people in my life, but I can’t even recall my best friend or my business partners. If they don’t reach out to me for more than a month, I just forget about them completely." She explained, and I placed my hand on my chest, feeling my heart race at the thought. What if she forgot about me? That would mean I couldn’t be away from her for more than a month for any reason, and the very idea was terrifying!

I reassured myself: I could do this. Business was not more important than my precious wife, not now, not ever.

"Mrs. Selena, have you forgotten any of your skills?" a German doctor, who had been quietly observing her body language, finally asked, his tone serious yet compassionate.

She nodded, frustration evident in her voice, her vulnerability laid bare. "Yes, I used to speak several languages, but now everything is gone. I simply don’t remember any of them."

The doctor narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, his curiosity piqued. "Which languages? Can you tell me?"

She inhaled deeply, counting on her fingers as she spoke, her expression thoughtful. "Russian, French, Chinese, Dutch, and Italian."

What?! Even Italian? But she had been communicating with me in English since we met! The realization sent a jolt of disbelief through me.

The doctors asked us to wait while they discussed her case privately, promising to return shortly with more information about Selena's condition.

As we waited, the silence felt heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts and fears. She stepped closer to me, her expression suddenly serious, breaking the tension. "Sorry, Noah."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, my heart racing. "Sorry for what?"

"For making your life like hell," she blurted out, and I leaned in closer, brushing the tip of my nose against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath. "It’s okay; I don’t mind," I replied softly, my tone filled with warmth and reassurance.

She smirked, teasing me with a playful glint in her eyes. "You don’t mind?! This is all because of you! Your past sins, honey!" She raised her brows, her playful teasing masking the underlying tension, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her spiritedness.

We both burst into laughter, a momentary escape from the heaviness that surrounded us, and I started to tickle her, planting kisses on her neck while glancing out the window, trying to capture the beautiful scenery of Italy even amidst our turmoil. Suddenly, the doctors barged into the room, one after another, breaking the light-hearted moment.

One of them took the lead in speaking to us, his expression serious but kind, a calm presence amidst the storm. "The good news is your case shows no damage to the brain," he stated bluntly, his voice steady, and I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me.

I felt a surge of hope and interrupted him, my heart racing with anticipation. "But what’s the bad news?!"

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, the weight of the situation evident on his face. "The bad news is… it’s something called Selective Amnesia. It involves a loss of memory regarding specific issues, events, and individuals, which is far too extensive to be attributed to typical forgetfulness. It is commonly believed to arise from emotional rather than temporal causes, and it often provides some convenience or benefits to the sufferer. This may be categorized as Dissociative Amnesia, which can be temporary, and memory can return once the stress is alleviated." He explained, and I didn’t quite grasp where the bad news was yet. Everything he said indicated it was temporary and that she could recover once the stress dissipated.

"Where’s the bad news?" I asked, my curiosity piqued, my heart still hopeful, though anxiety gnawed at the edges of my mind.

He replied, his tone somber and filled with concern, "The stress could cause her to lose an entire year of her life, and we currently have no medicine to address this. As of now, scientists have yet to find a definitive answer to selective amnesia."

"What!!!!!!!!!!!! Then what the hell are you doing here? Why am I paying for all of you now?!" I shouted, clenching my hair in frustration, my emotions boiling over, the fear for her safety pouring out in my words.

They all exchanged glances, and one of them finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "It’s your turn to take care of her now. Don’t make her mad. Your yelling could trigger a traumatic response that might lead to a total loss of her memory. So please, stop yelling. Money won’t buy her another life or happiness. You both need to work together to find joy. Nothing in this life comes easily; you must suffer to earn real love."

This wise old doctor’s words struck a chord with me, forcing me to reevaluate my emotions and calm my anger. Yes, I had built my empire from the ground up through suffering and perseverance, so I needed to endure again to keep my love intact. He was right, and that realization settled heavily in my heart.

While I pondered silently, reigning in my frustration, Selena suddenly exclaimed, "Noah! You’re ruining my honeymoon! We didn’t have time for shopping. Now I need another one. Let’s go to a hotel!"

I blinked at her reaction, struggling to comprehend her ability to shift focus so dramatically, her resilience shining through even in the darkest moments. Perhaps this was her way of escaping the harsh reality of our situation! But it was good for me, too. I would do everything in my power to make her happy, to help us both find our way back to each other amidst the chaos that threatened to engulf us.