The lights had been dimmed when Stacey woke up again. Someone was holding her hand. A heavy head of short hair was lying on her arm, weighing it down. A man's head. His hair was slightly greasy as if it hadn't been washed for a few days. The face was down turned toward the mattress so that she couldn't see it properly. What she could see were sleep wrinkles imprinted on his temple from where he had been lying on it earlier.
In the background, the piano music had stopped but noisy machines continued to beep, chime and tick and whirr to their own rhythm. Distant clatter and chatter of busy people with rolling trolleys filtered in through the door of her room. Not that she could see the door. Her bed had been surrounded by light coloured curtains that swayed in the slight breeze from outside the door.
Stacey took in a deep breath and winced at the sharp pains in her chest. It was like being stabbed in multiple places in the ribcage, with the majority of the pain being centred just to the left of the centre of her chest. Slowly, she let the deep breath out and drew another smaller breath in. She tried not to panic because it made the stabbing worse. Pain restricted how deeply she could breathe. Instead, she convinced herself to take long, slow and small breaths. Bit by bit, it felt like her lungs were slowly unsticking themselves. It was as if they had deflated like balloons and needed the extra air pressure to reinflate. Her throat itched and she coughed.
Ow!
Stacey made a small sound of pain and felt tears spring to her eyes. With difficulty, she hugged her chest with her free hand while she finished coughing, unable to suppress the itch. When the cough was gone, it took a long moments of careful breathing for the pain to settle again. She wiped her moist eyes with her forearm. Moving her arm hurt too, but it was bearable if she moved slowly.
The head on her arm lifted, allowing blood to rush back down toward her hand. Her fingers twitched and the hand holding hers tightened its grip. Opening her eyes to look at the man sitting beside her, his dark eyes looked down at her with a deep and mysterious light in the dim light. A smile spread across a handsome face like a dawning sunrise. His eyes twinkled and beamed with warmth.
Moving her head sent a sharp pain lancing through her skull and set a fire to burn with a throbbing rhythm. Her scalp felt itchy but all she found was a thick dressing and no way to scratch it. It felt like part of her hair had been shaved away. How horrible she must look now. Stacey winced at the sharp throbbing pain and decided not to move her head again if possible.
The pain settled to a manageable level after what felt like an age and Stacey heaved a small sigh of relief only to set her chest pains off again. Her breath caught in her throat while she tried to control the sharp stabbing. Wrinkling her nose, she felt a hand stroking her hand in a comforting manner.
Who? Who was this handsome stranger? Someone important? Should she know who he was? Only people important to the patient would wait by a patient's side during the night. That meant she ought to know this strange man. Right?
Why was she here in a hospital? Had she been in an accident? Hit by a car? Or something else? What was going on? Why was she so seriously injured?
The little bit of moving and breathing had already been so painful that she was afraid to try and move anything else. Just turning her head, lifting an arm of breathing required great focus and effort.
Stacey blinked and felt the hand holding hers tighten hard enough to make her wince. She shook her hand loose. The quick movement made her entire body protest. Pain was like a whiteout monster that drained all colour from her vision, pouncing on her every chance it got. Her eyes watered and dripped, while she tried to wrestle the pain back under control.
"Sorry," the man said in a low voice, letting her go. He dabbed at her tears with a tissue. "I'm sorry. I got too excited."
The more she looked at him, the more familiar he seemed, and yet she couldn't place where she knew him from. Some part of her cringed away from him. She didn't know why. She must have known him before. His voice was familiar. A voice that made her feel uneasy. It was like meeting a kindergarten bully again after everyone had grown up, albeit, Stacey didn't think she had known this man in kindergarten. In any case, it must have been a very long time since she'd last seen him.
She gave up trying to search her memory and recall who he was. It'd be faster to just ask him.
"Who are you?" Stacey asked.
The man froze. Just for a moment but Stacey still saw that brief momentary shock.
"Who do you think I am?" asked the handsome man in a slow tone.
"A kindergarten bully that I've forgotten maybe? A handsome stranger?" said Stacey, rubbing her hand slowly.
She wondered who he was to her. She'd been very sick or injured. She could figure out that much. As to what had happened, it was strange. It was blank. Vague and spotty.
"A kindergarten bully?" the man seemed affronted and then he shook his head and gave a small laugh. "I'm your husband," the man told her solemnly.
"I'm married?" Stacey frowned.
That didn't seem right. Definitely didn't feel right. Something about that statement seemed very wrong. As far as she knew, she wasn't the type of person anyone would want to mary. Although she couldn't remember much about her past, she had a vague feeling that she was somewhat of a failure and not the sort of girl any boy would be interested in.
"Can you remember who you are?" the man calling himself her 'husband' ventured in a gentle voice.
"My name - my name is Anastasia Wright," Stacey hesitated at first but then spoke with growing confidence as the answer came to her. "I'm Stacey."
"Good. And do you remember how old you are, Stacey?"
"I'm twenty-three," Stacey said. She felt pretty sure about this answer.
"Your birthdate is…"
Stacey managed to answer the basic information about herself clearly. Bit by bit, she revitalised her identity and confirming it within herself. She didn't feel quite so lost or confused now.
She remembered her apartment address, her parents' phone numbers. That's right. She should give them a call. If she was in hospital, they'd be worried sick about her.
"Do you know where you are?"
"In a hospital," Stacey said, looking around, touching her sore chest. "Which hospital though, I don't know. I think I've been very sick or been in a big accident or something. I'm not too sure. Do you think I can call my parents? To tell them I'm ok? Has anyone called them yet?"
Her 'husband' lowered his head in thought for a long moment.
"I'll try and arrange it for you," he said at last, without looking at her, "but you won't be able to go home for a long time. They might not be able to come and see you either. There are border issues at the moment."
"Really? That's… that's ok," Stacey felt a bit disappointed and also confused. Didn't her parents live in the same country? Unless there were state border issues? They didn't live in the same state. Maybe there were problems at the state borders - like another epidemic that had broken out in the country. "At least, I'll be able to talk to them for a bit on the phone, right?"
"Right," her 'husband' said, sounding conflicted. From the way he answered, it looked like she wouldn't be getting that phone call, although she didn't understand why. It was just a phone call. Unless something had happened to her parents and he was trying to hide it from her?
"Were my parents in the accident with me? Are they ok?" Stacey asked, grabbing his hand in sudden fear that they were on the brink of death or dead or something.
"Dead? What? No. Nothing like that. Your parents are fine," her 'husband' gave a short laugh. "It's just that the phone lines are down at the moment. You don't need to worry."
So it was like that. Nothing to worry about then. She could always call them when she was better too. That way there would be no need for them to worry and fuss about her too much.
"I'm sorry," Stacey scratched at the itch on her head through the thick dressing. Raising her arm hurt but it was so itchy. Scratching wasn't very effective, but it was better than nothing, "but I don't remember who you are or getting married. What's your name?"
"Thieren. Thieren Huo," the man replied with a gentle smile, taking her hand. "We got married but we never got around to having the marriage ceremony or reception. When you're feeling better, we'll arrange all the other formalities. At the moment, we're only married on paper."
Stacey frowned. Something felt off. Wrong. If she ever got married, she'd make sure to do it properly. This sounded like a rushed marriage. In which case, she'd best serve up her feelings cold. It would be better than playing with the man's feelings.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are. I don't love you."
"That's ok," the man said with a slightly bitter twist of the lips. "You can get to know me again. It might almost be better this way."
"Why?" Stacey asked.
"Because I haven't exactly shown you my best side and treated you as well as you deserve. I'd like to make up for it," Thieren Huo said.
"Why did I marry you then? Was I very in love with you?" Stacey tilted her head to one side and winced, replacing her head back where it had originally been.
"I married you, not the other way around," another strange and bitter smile spread across the man's face. He looked ashamed. "Anyway, call me Thieren. I may be grasping for straws but you used to call me Tyrant or Tea Wren. Call me however you'd like."
There was something odd about her marriage with this man. It didn't sit right with her. She was sure she wasn't a married woman. Why on earth would she be willing to get married if love wasn't involved? Did he mean he loved her more than she loved him? But that still didn't explain why she got married to him.
Maybe he was trying to trick her. Like how those television dramas had amnesiacs tricked into falling in love with strangers they'd never met. Stacey didn't want to be duped.
"Are - are you hungry? Or thirsty?" her 'husband' asked, obviously trying to change the topic.
"Not right now," Stacey yawned and stretched and then regretted it. Moving was literally a huge pain. By the time the pain was back under control and she could breathe again, she felt tired. She would have to investigate things in more detail another time. Her eyelids were drooping already. "How did I get into hospital?"
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Stacey thought about it and then thought about it some more. In the end, she ended up falling asleep before she could arrive at the answer.