Chapter Two – The Stranger in His Eyes
The steady beep, beep, beep of the monitor filled the room.
Elena adjusted her chair, the thin cushion doing little to ease her sore back. She'd been here since last night—far longer than she'd planned.
It wasn't as though she made a habit of sitting by strangers' bedsides. She had a bakery to run, bills piling up on her kitchen counter, and flour dust that clung to her clothes no matter how often she washed them. But when she'd been on her way home and saw the ambulance lights flashing outside the city's only decent hospital, something had tugged her steps forward.
The man they wheeled in hadn't looked like anyone she knew. Pale, bloodied, unconscious. The kind of stranger you expected to see on the news, not in a small town where everybody knew everybody.
She should've left after helping the nurses fill out a few missing details, but then—he'd stirred. Eyes opening, hazy and lost. And when his gaze had met hers… it was as if she was the only solid thing he could hold onto in a collapsing world.
"Hey… you're awake."
Those had been her words, trembling out before she even realized she'd spoken. And now, hours later, she found herself still here, still watching him breathe.
The door creaked. She sat up straighter.
His lashes fluttered against his cheek. Slowly, with the fragile weight of someone climbing out of a long, deep pit, his eyes opened again.
Storm-grey. Sharp beneath the haze.
Elena's heart skipped.
"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.
He blinked at her. Once. Twice. His lips parted, but the sound that escaped was broken, confused.
"I…" He faltered, brows knitting. His hand twitched against the sheets as though reaching for something—someone—but coming up empty. "…don't…"
Elena leaned closer, her voice gentle. "Don't what?"
His eyes locked onto hers, and in them, she saw it—panic, raw and consuming.
"I don't know," he whispered.
Her stomach dropped.
"Alright," she murmured quickly, trying to steady her own nerves for his sake. "Don't push yourself. I'll call the doctor."
She rose, nearly tripping over the chair in her rush to the door. Her fingers gripped the cold metal handle, and she called down the hall, "Doctor! He's awake!"
The response was immediate. Footsteps thundered, white coats sweeping into the room.
Dr. Patel, the attending physician, moved briskly to the bedside, his penlight already out. "Mr ? Can you hear me?"
The man winced under the light. "I can hear you." His voice was low, strained.
"Good. Do you know where you are?"
Silence. Then, "…No."
"Do you know what day it is?"
Another pause. His eyes flicked between them, searching for answers in their faces, but none came. "…No."
"Do you know your name?"
Elena's breath caught. She watched him struggle, muscles tight with effort. His mouth opened, then shut. His gaze dropped to his hands, as if they might hold the answer.
Finally, he whispered, "I… I don't know."
The air thickened.
Elena's throat tightened. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. He looked so lost, like a man stranded on the edge of the world with no way back.
Dr. Patel's expression softened with professional calm. "Amnesia. Likely retrograde, trauma-induced from the accident. It may be temporary… or it may last longer. We'll need to run tests."
Amnesia.
The word buzzed in Elena's ears. She'd seen movies, read novels. But this—this was a man with storm-grey eyes staring at her as though she were his only lifeline, and he didn't even know his own name.
Dr. Patel scribbled notes. "For now, rest is crucial. Miss Elena, if you wouldn't mind—could you remain with him a little longer? Patients often respond better with a familiar face nearby."
Elena stiffened. "Me? But I'm not—"
"Please," the doctor said firmly, already moving toward the door. "You've been here since he came in. You're the only one he's seen awake. It could help him stabilize."
And then they were gone, leaving her standing there, her pulse racing.
She turned slowly.
He was still watching her. His gaze was intense, confused, but anchored. As though she was the only certainty in a world stripped bare.
Her palms dampened. She pulled the chair closer, sinking into it with a sigh. "Well… I guess it's just you and me, stranger."
He blinked, studying her like a puzzle piece he couldn't quite place.
"Stranger," he echoed, almost amused despite the strain in his voice.
Elena tried a small smile, though her chest was tight. "Until you remember your name."
Silence stretched.
And then, to her surprise, his lips curved just slightly. A ghost of a smile, fleeting but real.
It shouldn't have hit her the way it did.
But it did.