Chapter 16 #16
Chapter 16
~ Shailyn ~
I felt myself floating in the air, weightless, suspended in some vast emptiness that had no beginning and no end. It was peaceful there, in that nothingness.
Then, suddenly, something yanked me back. Hard.
It felt like being hooked by an invisible line and dragged through water, pulled forcefully toward consciousness whether I wanted it or not. My eyes fluttered open, and immediately I regretted it. The world came rushing back, bright lights, beeping machines, the scratchy feel of hospital sheets against my skin.
God, the pain.
My head felt like it had been split open with an axe. Every small movement sent waves of agony radiating through my skull, making my vision swim and my stomach lurch. I tried to sit up, stupid, so stupid, and immediately had to abort the attempt as the room spun violently around me.
What the hell happened to me?
I tried to remember. I tried to reach back into my memory for some explanation of why I was lying in a hospital bed feeling like death warmed over. But there was nothing there. Just a frustrating blank space where recent memories should have been.
The last thing I could clearly recall was... what? Being at home? No, that wasn't quite right either. Everything felt fuzzy, out of focus, like trying to see through frosted glass.
Before I could dig any deeper, the door opened and two giants walked in.
Well, not actual giants. But they were both tall and imposing enough that my pain-addled brain registered them as enormous. One was dressed in an expensive suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, his face handsome in that practiced, almost too-perfect way.
The other looked slightly different rougher around the edges, with tattoos peeking out from beneath his shirt collar and an intensity in his dark eyes that made something in my chest tighten.
I stared at them both, confusion mounting. Who were these people? Why were they in my hospital room?
My gaze settled on the second man, the one with the tattoos and the intense stare. There was something about him that felt... familiar.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I'd expected.
He seemed shocked by the question, his eyes widening slightly, but not too much. Like he'd been expecting this but hoped he was wrong. His mouth opened, and I could see him preparing to explain himself.
But before he could speak, the other man, the one in the suit, cut him off smoothly.
"Don't stress yourself," he said, moving closer to my bedside. "This is my brother, Dwayne."
"Oh." I looked between them, trying to see the family resemblance. Brothers. That made sense, I supposed. Though they seemed so different from each other.
But it was still strange. This Dwayne person felt too familiar for someone I apparently didn't know. Maybe I was just overthinking it. Maybe the head injury was making me imagine connections that weren't there.
And then it clicked.
Dante.
The man in the suit was Dante. My husband. I was married to this man.
Joy exploded in my chest, sudden and overwhelming. Of course! How could I have forgotten, even for a second? Dante was my husband. The man I loved. The man who'd made me feel special and wanted when no one else ever had.
"Hi baby!" I said, my voice filled with love and excitement that I couldn't contain even if I'd wanted to.
The reaction was immediate and startling.
Everyone in the room froze. Completely froze, like someone had hit a pause button on reality. Dante's eyes went wide.
The man in the wheelchair, Tyler, I realized suddenly, recognizing my father-in-law, looked shocked. And Dwayne... Dwayne's expression was impossible to read, but something dark and complicated flickered across his features.
Why were they reacting like this was strange? Dante was my husband. Of course I'd greet him lovingly. What else would I do?
I didn't have time to ponder the weird atmosphere because Dante recovered himself quickly. He rushed to my bedside, his hands immediately going to my face, checking my head with gentle fingers, his eyes scanning me like he was looking for injuries he might have missed.
"Shailyn," he breathed in relief.
I was so delighted to see him, to have him close and caring for me like this. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a hug, trying to calm him down because I could feel how tense he was, how his body was practically vibrating with some emotion I couldn't name.
It felt strange, though. This hug. Like I hadn't done it in a while, like my body had forgotten the shape of him. But that was ridiculous. We were married. Of course we hugged all the time.
I didn't want to let go. I wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever, safe and protected. But then I remembered there were other people in the room watching us, and reluctantly I pulled back. Though I stayed in his embrace, not quite ready to give up that closeness.
My eyes found Tyler again, and I smiled at him. "Hi, Tyler. How are you?"
He wheeled himself a bit closer, his weathered face creasing with concern. "Never mind me. How are you feeling, dear? Are you in pain?"
"I'm okay," I assured him, though my head was still pounding. "Just... confused."
And that was an understatement.
Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through my skull, so intense it made me gasp. I pressed my hand to my forehead, trying to push through it, trying to force my brain to give me answers.
"What happened to me?" I asked Dante, turning to look at him. "I don't... I can't remember. The last thing I remember clearly is..." I searched my memory, grasping for something concrete. "We were together. At home. It was morning, and you were getting ready for work, and you kissed me goodbye and told me..." I trailed off, the memory fragmenting. "What happened after that? Why am I here?"
Dante's face had gone pale. He exchanged a look with Tyler that I couldn't interpret, then with Dwayne, who was still standing near the door looking like a statue carved from stone.
"Shailyn," Dante said carefully, his hands still holding mine. "That memory you just described... when do you think that was?"
"This morning?" I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I wasn't sure. "Or... yesterday? Time feels weird. Why?"
Dante took a deep breath, and I could see him struggling with how to tell me something difficult. "That wasn't this morning. Or yesterday. That was... Shailyn, you've lost some of your memory. The doctors say you have retrograde amnesia from your head injury."
"How much?" The question came out as a whisper.
“There’s only one way to find out.” Tyler said with a smile, “What year are we in?”
I thought for a while, a bit confused but I remember clearly that we were in the year 2021. I had gotten married to Dante last year, 2020, so it had to be 2021.
“2021?” I said trying to figure out the month as I and Dante are yet to celebrate our one year anniversary, “August 2021?”
Dante took a deep breath, Dwayne looked away as if what I said just disoriented him.
Tyler shook his head, “No Shailyn, we’re in August 2025.”
My heart stopped for a moment, “What???”
"Four years." Dante’s grip on my hands tightened. "You've lost the past four years."
The words didn't make sense. Four years? Four entire years of my life just... gone?
"No," I said, shaking my head and immediately regretting it as pain exploded behind my eyes. "No, that's not... that can't be right. Four years? How can I have lost four years?"
But even as I protested, I could feel the truth of it. The gaps in my memory. The way everything felt slightly off, slightly wrong. Four years. Gone.
It was too much. All of it was too much. The room felt like it was closing in on me, the walls pressing closer, the air getting thinner. I couldn't breathe.
"Shailyn, calm down," Dante said, his voice soothing as he pulled me back into his arms. "Just breathe. It's going to be okay. I'm here. I'm right here with you."
His embrace helped. His warmth, his solid presence, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek all helped ground me, pull me back from the edge of panic. I focused on his voice, on his hands stroking my back, on the familiar scent of his cologne.
The door opened again, and a doctor entered a kind-faced woman who immediately assessed the situation and moved to check my vitals.
"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.
"Overwhelmed," I admitted.
She nodded sympathetically. "That's completely normal. What you're experiencing is very disorienting, I know. But I need you to try not to stress yourself. Don't force the memories to come back. The more you push, the more you'll exhaust yourself, and that won't help the recovery process."
"But four years," I whispered. "How do I just... accept that four years are gone?"
"The memories often come back in bits and pieces," she explained. "A smell might trigger something. A sound. A familiar place. Your brain is healing, and as it does, those neural pathways may rebuild themselves. But you need rest. Lots of rest. And patience."
Patience. Indeed.
After the doctor finished her examination and left with instructions for rest and monitoring, Dante helped me settle back against the pillows. He adjusted them carefully, making sure I was comfortable, his movements gentle and attentive.
"Just rest," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. "I'm right here beside you. I'm not going anywhere."
The kiss felt good. Right. This was my husband taking care of me. This was how it should be.
But from my peripheral vision, I could see Dwayne still standing near the door. And the expression on his face was... angry? No, not quite angry.
More complicated. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides, and he was staring at Dante and me like we'd personally offended him.
What's his problem?
Why would he look so pissed off because my husband kissed me? Did he not like displays of affection? Was he just one of those people who got uncomfortable around couples?
Before I could think about it too much, the hospital door suddenly flew open with such force it slammed against the wall.
What the hell?