White ceiling.
The smell of disinfectant.
The muted hum of several machine.
Those were the first things my mind processed.
As my consciousness stabilized, I opened my eyes. I strained and my surroundings gradually came to focus.
Then I heard voices. Hurried. Panicked. Excited.
"She's awake!"
"The madam is awake!"
Two weeks after I woke up, I found myself in a private hospital room. With its own lounge, full bathroom and even a kitchenette, it was more like a hotel room. The luxury felt both foreign and familiar.
During the past few days I began receiving a constant visitor. A man, always dressed in suit. Impeccable. His face was always serious, business-like but undeniably attractive. They said he is my husband.
Every morning he comes to have breakfast with me. By mid-morning, he leaves. I am told he goes to work. Early evening, he has dinner with me but leaves before the clock strikes seven.
It has become a routine. He comes like clockwork and I find myself looking forward to his company; albeit he never spoke a word to me.
Another two weeks and I was discharged from the hospital.
The moment I stepped out of the car, a line of people welcomed me.
"Welcome back, Madam Salvador."
Amidst the robotic greeting, one voice stood out.
"Hello mama"
I stared at the boy. He is the spitting image of his father save for the soft curls framing his face. I think he got it from me.
He walked with purpose and stopped in front of me. He took my hand and without a change of expression, he said "You're home mama".
It was like a dam was opened in my head and countless images tumbled out. Me, holding my son. Me, laughing with family. Me, in a wedding dress. Me, walking towards a man. Him, his face finally clearer than ever. I see his serious face but his eyes warm and soft as he looked at me.
For what felt like a long time, I felt my heart lighten. I smiled at the boy, stooped and kissed his head, "I am home. Hello my Martin."