'Lily Blossom.
A name not familiar, yet somehow it feels familiar altogether.
I feel like I know her; tiny pieces of memories flash before my eyes - a memory so blurry that I just can't recall.
Who is she? And why does her name bother me so much, like the village masquerades of Alaska?
Now that my village, Alaska, has flashed into my head, some pieces of my memory begin to itch, scratching at the reminder of what used to be my life - every memory of Tolu, the village, and my aggressive father'.
....
"It's amnesia," the doctor proclaimed, his eyes squinting as he stared at the white paper in his hand. The object was unfamiliar to Alero, who watched him with curiosity. The doctor's brown skin glowed beneath his white scrub jacket, and his eyes, behind transparent spectacles, showed signs of worry and sleep deprivation. "Soon," he added, looking up from his notes to gaze at the honey-eyed man seated beside Alero, "her memories will return."
The man grumbled impatiently, his eyes fixed on the doctor, not sparing Alero a glance. "When?" he growled, his lips twitching. "She keeps saying strange things; it's uncomfortable."
Alero's thoughts drifted back to when she had awoken from her fainting spell. The man beside her had been the first face she saw, accompanied by a glass of warm water thrust into her face. He wasn't kind or patient like Tolu; his eyes seemed capable of killing, and his deepened frown made Alero squirm. Yet, she had bombarded him with curious questions: "Do you know where I can find a route to Alaska?" "Can you tell me why I'm here?" "This must be heaven, right?" And, most pressing, "Why do you keep calling me Lily Blossom? I'm Alero!"
The man had stepped back, his eyes blazing with rage he couldn't vent. He darted between Alero and the beeping machine, his voice lacking patience. "You're my wife!" he bellowed, slamming the cup onto a nearby table, making Alero flinch. "I know you didn't want to marry me, just as I didn't want to marry you, but you can't escape it, not like this!" His chest heaved aggressively as he finished, and he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Alero remained silent, trying to make sense of the situation. No matter how hard she thought about it, nothing added up. How could she be married to a man she knew nothing about, especially when she had been ill for the last three years of her life?
Her head began to spin again, and she reached for the glass of water with shaking hands. "Strange," she muttered, marveling that she could see through the glass. The ones she had used at home were made of clay and marble, with a hard, sturdy surface that could hold any liquid. This glass seemed fragile, as if it might shatter under the water's weight.
She took a sip of the water, and the warm liquid soothed her throat. Surprised by the taste, she savored it again, this time taking a mighty gulp. In no time, her headache began to clear.
"It tastes the same," she said, setting the glass aside, "but it's not too cold, like the water from the stream."
The man returned with a doctor, who introduced himself. Alero stared at him, baffled, her mouth agape. She remained silent, still trying to process this new life.
As they conversed about her, she began to wonder if they thought she was mad. Alero realized that if she spoke again, the man claiming to be her husband would look at her strangely. Yet, she couldn't help herself; everything seemed strange.
"She could be discharged tomorrow," the doctor said. "The injury on her head is minor. As long as she sticks to her medication, she'll be fine."
"And the amnesia?" the man asked, his brow furrowed in concern. His eyes met Alero's, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered in their depths, like genuine remorse. But he quickly looked away, leaving Alero wondering if she had imagined it.
"It will return, I assure you," the doctor said with a warm smile. "All she needs now is rest. Then, you can remind her of things she knows, take her to places she's been. But don't pressure her to remember."
The man rubbed his eyes wearily, his frustration evident. "Like I know a damned thing about what she knows and likes," he muttered under his breath. Alero heard him, though, and her frown deepened.
How could he be her husband and know nothing about her?
The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
With that, the doctor nodded slightly at the man before his gaze fell upon Alero. His kind eyes put her at ease, but she didn't fully grasp his words. "You will be absolutely fine, Lady Stanley. I advise you not to pressure yourself in any way until your memories return." With another nod, he left the room.
Leaving an oppressive silence that engulfed them.
When the silence became unbearable, the man spoke, his voice low and hesitant. "Your mother will arrive in a few hours. Until then, you can rest." He bit his lip, avoiding eye contact, as if forming words was a struggle.
Alero's gaze traveled to his face, now that her head was clear. She could see how handsome he was, with a chiseled jaw and manly features. Clad in a suit, he looked nothing like the average man. His honeyed eyes, though beautiful, seemed intimidating and dangerous.
When Alero spoke next, her voice was surprisingly soft. "I don't know your name."
The man's gaze met hers, and he seemed caught off guard. "You've never cared to know my name," he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
Alero frowned, puzzled. What kind of marriage had he had with Lily Blossom, where his wife didn't even know his name? Did people in this world marry like those in her own, where marriage was a convenient arrangement with no commitment or shared love?
The man's laughter broke Alero's trance, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "We don't have a good relationship, Lily," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "We were both forced into marriage against our will by our grandfathers, who wanted to fulfill a long-standing friendship by marrying their grandchildren." He paused, his eyes narrowing at her. "I know you remember nothing, so I'll remind you: you don't have to become clingy or kind. It's not you. And you don't have to know my name if it's of no interest to you, just as you said before."
Alero bit her tongue to stop herself from crying. Why was she being punished like this? Why had she been sick in her old life, only to awaken in another life where she was trapped in a loveless marriage?
She exhaled slowly and managed to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "What should I call you?"
"Mr. Stanley," he shrugged, his eyes fixed on some distant point, "or Mr. Unwanted, as you used to call me."
Alero's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would anyone call you that?" she breathed.
The man's lips curved into a faint smile, and his eyes returned to hers. "I don't know," he said, "but you didn't have to stop calling me that. Perhaps it could bring back your memories."
Alero's gaze dropped, and she felt a wave of despair wash over her. This nightmare, when would it ever end? Where was Tolu? Was she really dead? Why was this happening to her? She would become sick again soon, she just knew it. Oh dear ancestors!!!!!