I had a feeling like I was about to tumble into a deep slumber once again, but the desire to reunite with the people who had become such a significant part of my life post-traumatic amnesia kept me fighting against the drowsiness and pain.
It had been almost a week since I had emerged from the coma and been moved into a private room. My aunt and my two cousins, Meg and Migs, had become my constant companions. In a strange twist of fate, this catastrophe had somehow turned into a bonding experience with my newfound family. Go figure.
In the private room, Meg and Migs were hosting a comedic hour, complete with laughter that could have rivaled a stand-up comedy show. If only chuckles burned calories, we'd all be supermodels by now.
All of a sudden, our laughter transformed into a chorus of gasps and widened eyes as our attention was riveted to the doorknob. Cue the suspenseful music and dramatic close-ups!
My eyes snapped open as a tall, dashing figure entered with a bouquet of flowers, as if he were starring in a romantic movie. It felt like I was the unsuspecting heroine and he was the dashing hero, complete with a script full of cheesy lines and a bouquet that might as well have been his armor.
And then it hit me—could this be Rayden? My memory was desperately attempting a comeback, like an underdog in a sports movie.
He exchanged pleasantries with Meg and Migs, their names rolling off his tongue with the ease of someone who's been practicing in front of a mirror. But as his gaze settled on me, it was like a spotlight had been turned on, making me the star of the show. Talk about a captive audience of one!
His smile seemed genuine, but his eyes betrayed a different story—like he'd been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and my arrival had lifted that burden. Yeah, I was suddenly fluent in the language of flower body language.
And then, the million-dollar question—was this truly the legendary Rayden? My brain was working overtime, like a hamster on a wheel, trying to decipher the mystery before me.
He did the courteous thing and greeted Meg and Migs, and then it was like he'd activated a turbo boost as he moved closer to me. It was like there was an invisible forcefield, pulling me towards him, and I half-expected sparks to fly as we closed the gap between us.
He began speaking, and the room was hushed with anticipation. "You kept your promise," he said, his voice laden with emotion. Okay, this could go one of two ways—either he was about to propose or he'd enrolled in a melodramatic acting class. The tension was palpable!
Without further ado, he plopped onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, wrapping his arms around me as though he were clinging to a lifeline. And then the tears started flowing. Boy, did they flow. It was like a dam had burst, and he was creating a mini waterfall in my room. Meanwhile, I was just here for the free shower, thank you.
"I thought I'd lost you!" he sobbed, the tears falling like rain. If emotions were a water park, he'd be the main attraction. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry..." I half expected him to break into a chorus of "Sorry" by Justin Bieber at any moment.
The apologies kept coming, like a broken record, and while I might not remember all the details, his sincerity was hitting me like a ton of bricks. The emotional rollercoaster might not have had a set schedule, but he seemed to be riding it full-time.
"It was a time of darkness and chaos, Sid. Seriously, things were bleaker than the chances of finding a unicorn in my backyard. If you can't remember me now or later, that's okay. Let's just create some new memories together, shall we?"
He released his grip and looked at me like a hopeful puppy waiting for a treat. Wait, was I the treat in this scenario? Either way, I was both touched and puzzled by the whole situation. And just when I thought life couldn't get any more surreal.
He took my hand, which had been feeling a tad neglected in this whole affair. Then he amped up the drama, kissing my hand and letting a tear drop onto my skin. If I wasn't fully awake before, I sure as heck was now, thanks to the unexpected sprinkle of reality.
With this grand gesture that could've given Shakespeare a run for his money, I wanted to know more about him than ever. Carson had labeled him my lover, and the curiosity was building inside me like a kid in a candy store.
He delivered the shocker: "Our love story wasn't your typical run-of-the-mill romance, Sid. It was more like a telenovela on steroids. Drama, romance, and plot twists." I could almost see the dramatic zoom-in on his face as he dropped this bombshell.
My cheeks were flushed, red as tomatoes at a summer barbecue. He moved his fingers toward my face, like a slow-motion scene from a cheesy movie, minus the romantic background music.
His fingers brushed against my cheek, my brain kicked into high gear, and suddenly, memories started flooding in like I'd stumbled upon a hidden treasure trove. There was Rayden, there were challenges, and romantic turmoil fit for a soap opera.
"Rayden Henares..." I whispered, his name rolling off my tongue like an old friend. And just like that, the missing puzzle pieces clicked into place. I remembered him—the guy with the infectious smile, the name that had been playing peek-a-boo with my thoughts.
I wanted to spill everything, to tell him about the rush of memories, to confess my feelings, but my body had decided to clock out. Lights off, everybody!
Before I descended into the abyss of slumber, I managed to mumble, "Rayden... I love you."
That was the last thing I heard as I slipped into dreamland, feeling like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, with Rayden's voice echoing in the distance, probably wondering if he'd stumbled into the circus of a lifetime.