LYDIA
Joey was a good man.
Even though he was more or less a stranger to me, I saw the kindness in his eyes. It was a vital part of him, and it defined him more than any other attribute he could probably have.
The kindness was evident in the way he spoke to the nurses and patients alike, in the way he held himself. It was evident and present in the way he laughed, in the way he cared about people without even having to say anything.
It was obvious in the way he held my hand while I ate, saying nothing. It was there, present in the silence we shared.
It was in the way he held my hair up whenever I needed to use the restroom, the way he touched my cheeks softly whenever he thought I was sleeping.
The way he brought home cooked meals for me, meals I was a hundred percent sure he made from scratch.
I could see the vision, me falling in love with this man. He was kind and beautiful and an absolute gentleman, and a part of me was glad that he was taking care of me.
But there was a catch.
I didn't trust him.
I badly wanted to, especially after I saw how far he was willing to go just to make me comfortable, but it was hard.
I just couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, my guts kept telling me that something was wrong, even if I had no idea what it was.
Every time he walked into my hospital room, my body recoiled from him, and I knew that there was something I needed to remember.
Sometimes, whenever I was frustrated, I thought maybe I was just overthinking things. Maybe nothing was wrong.
Maybe the constant nagging feeling was just my brain's way of protecting me, seeing as I didn't remember anything.
Or maybe something was really wrong. Maybe my gut instincts was right, and there was something he wasn't telling me.
But whatever it was, I had not a clue. And it wasn't as though I had a choice.
I had nothing. No past. No home. Just him. Joey.
I had to trust him. He was my husband.
And sooner rather than later, I was going to get discharged. Once that happened, I would have to go home with him.
I had no money. No home that I knew of. No family members except him. I had nothing. Nothing except him.
Running away from him with not a single spark in my memory and nothing except the hospital scrubs I was wearing would be a mistake.
Besides, my plan was to use him to get my memory back. So whatever it was that was wrong could take a backseat for now.
I needed someone, and he was the only one for me.
The door opened, intruding on my thoughts. I turned to see who it was that came in, and I could not stop my lips from stretching into a small smile when I saw that it was Joey.
His eyes twinkled as he walked towards me, and the sight of how beautiful he was made my heart jump just a tiny bit.
"Hey," he called out.
"Hello, Doctor Joey," I responded, my voice slightly warm.
Since I had already decided that I needed him, at least until I was able to get my memory back, it was imperative for me to be polite.
"I have news. Good news," he stated, stopping at the foot of my bed. I raised my eyebrows at him and waited for him to go on.
"You'll be discharged today. I already checked and double checked everything, and nothing seems to be wrong. Everything is alright. You're good to go," he announced.
His words seemed to act as a crane, because there was a sudden lift of what I was pretty sure was a burden on my chest.
I could not help the way my eyes lit up with relief, and my expression seemed to gladden Joey so much that he reached out to take my hand.
Finally.
I was leaving the hospital. I had been here for two months, and while the nurses and Joey did everything to make me comfortable, a large part of me had been waiting for the day I would be able to leave.
And the day was here after all these while.
Joey took a seat beside me, my hand still in his gentle grip.
"I already applied for a short term leave from work, and as soon as I sign the paperwork, we will be cleared to leave."
My elation died away, and my brows furrowed into a small frown at his words.
What was he talking about?
I was about to ask why he applied for a break when the realisation dawned on me.
He was taking me home. To his — our — house. And since I needed time to get used to the entire layout of the house, he had to be there to help me.
Still…
"Do you really have to take a break? You can just…you know, drive me home. I can manage and get acquainted to the house all by myself," I stated, trying not to let him see how suddenly nervous I was about going home and spending days with him.
Days?
More like the rest of my life.
Joey sighed and threaded his hand through mine.
"How could I do that? I can't leave you alone, Lydia. That's impossible. You're my wife, and you are just recovering and I need to do everything to make you comfortable. Gently ease you back into…well, everything."
Telling him that him easing me back into the life we used to live was exactly what I didn't want would be rude, right?
Swallowing my words, I nodded. My husband's beamed at me and leaned over to kiss me on the forehead.
I let him, slightly leaning into his warmth even when every part of me was screaming to get away.
Patting my hair gently, Joey eventually let go of my hand and stood up.
"I'll be back in a bit. The nurse will bring you some clothes to change into, and before you know it we'll be at home. Just the two of us," he whispere.
I shuddered as he walked out.
The moment the door closed behind him, I collapsed back on the bed.
This was it then. Home.
My heart hammered against my chest at the word, and my throat went dry.
Three months ago, I was rushed here, standing at the very precipice of death.
And now I was going home. Home. With a stranger. A man who felt familiar to me, and on the other hand, was an absolute stranger.
Snuggling deeper into the pillows, I tried to quieten my mind.
But I couldn't help it. What kind of life was I walking into?
And would I be finally able to unearth the secret that made me leave all those years ago?