CHAPTER 2

MEMORY LANE

NADIN'S POV

Waking up after I passed out, my eyes were blurry. Again, it was as if I were beginning to recollect some memories.

The once-hazy memories that filled my mind with indistinguishable and unspoken words were not the case any longer because some thoughts were coming to my mind.

The thoughts of so many things that were too much for me to bear at once made tears well up in my eyes.

As I lay in bed, I felt the already-accumulated tears running down my face.

I barely wiped them off, but they kept falling uncontrollably.

It took me only one memory flash to remember the type of married life I had been exposed to.

And yes, I can now recall the faces and voices of the man and the lady I had seen in the corridor a few hours ago.

That was my ex-husband, Ethan Archer, the one who divorced to be with my step sister, Bella, the same lady I met with him outside.

Everything played in my head like a movie, but I knew they were all real.

The last thing I could remember before I got into coma was when my father was murdered right before me by my stepmother and my ex-husband's father.

Thereafter, they attacked me with undiluted acid, intending to kill me.

The more I try to recall more, the more it feels like I was having a deep headache that was as if my head wanted to fall off.

I was transfixed by everything until I was called out of it: “Thank God you are awake now.”

I looked around and saw it was the same nurse who had attended to me the first time, entering my room.

“Please get me some medicine; I have a severe headache.” I said to her.

She nodded. “Ok, Missus.”

“Please, you can stop addressing me as Missus, nurse. My name is Nadin.”

The nurse looked astonished.

“Oh, you have finally regained your senses.” She said in joy and came close to my bedside.

She was gentle with me, probably mindful of my feelings.

“So, how are you, Missus? Sorry… Nadin.”

“I am good, just the headache I complained to you about.”

“Ok, that must be as a result of trying to think as one who just regained her consciousness.

It's normal. Let me quickly get drugs for you.”

Not long enough, the nurse got the drug for me, and after I took it, I could feel better in a short time.

I was forced to ask the nurse, as had offered to keep me company.

“What was my condition when I got here, and how long have I been here?”

“Your condition was bad when you got here.” Professionally, I think she wasn't meant to disclose certain things to me immediately, and I understood that.

“And then, ma, you have been in a coma for like a year now.”

“Ok nurse.” I couldn't resist the urge of curiosity, which took the better side of me. “So, when I was comatose, did no one visit me? Family or whatsoever?”

I noticed her uneasiness with the question, but she still went on to answer, “I wouldn't know about any family member, but the one who brought you here visits twice every single day to make sure you are improving. He has been here for this morning’s visit, but we had to reach him the first time you woke up, as I observed you were in amnesia when you just woke.

We wanted any of your personal items that will likely help you regain your senses. But now, there is no need to inform him not to bother about that because he is likely to be here soon as he has called not long enough.”

Some sense of relief washed over me with the thought that at least someone cares about my well-being.

“Hello,” this handsome, good-looking young man said as he walked in, grinning from ear to ear.

“That is the young man who saved you. He brought you here and made sure your safety was guaranteed.” The nurse explained, she gesturing at the young man who just got in.

She faces the man and says, "She is fine now, not in amnesia anymore.”

Meanwhile, I was carried away with this young man’s looks, as he looks indifferently good.

Brown hair and penetrating gray eyes.

“That's good news.

So fast, that’s really impressive.” He replied, looking all smiley.

“But I had brought the phone I picked next to her the moment I took her away from the spot that very day.” The next thing, he made his way to my side and asked, “How are you, my dear?”

“I am good. Thank you for everything you have done just to save my life. I sincerely appreciate that a lot, sir.” I responded.

Without hesitation, he replied, “It's nothing. Again, you can call me Luciano. That's my name.”

“It's ok.” I responded.

Then I noticed his slight surprise; perhaps he was indeed impressed with my sudden improvement in health.

He came closer to my bedside to sit just next to me as the nurse stood, to excuse us or maybe duty calls.

I asked for my phone, and he gave it to me.

I opened it with a swipe, and reading the last messages left me convinced that my thoughts weren't just mere imagination.

It all happened; my husband divorced me for real. Before I signed it that very day, he had sent to me the soft divorce papers.

A sharp pain in my chest caused me to clutch at my bedsheet.

The pain of not being able to receive the love I gave was a deep sense of failure.

The ludicrous things I did for this love thing are things I wouldn't do anymore.

Indeed, stupid love that isn't reciprocated is the worst thing that could happen to anyone.

It's like a blindfold that covers the eyes, and I refer to it as stupid because that's the only thing it makes you end up doing.

I gathered the last strength in me to ask, deviating a bit, “What was my condition when you brought me here? I had asked the nurse, but she had refused to answer me exactly what I need to hear.”

“60 percent of your body was burned before we got to the hospital. I had instructed the doctor to keep you anonymous and proceed with plastic surgery. Because that was the only thing that was required to be done to save your dear life.”

I was taken aback a bit. ‘My life was indeed dear to him, but not to the ones I called stepmother and sister who happened to be family, let alone the one that used to be my husband.’ I thought to myself.

Immediately, something struck my mind.

Wait! It just occurred to me that I hadn't seen my face after I got awake.

“Plastic surgery! Was my face affected too?” I asked hastily.

To save me the stress, he turned on the selfie camera, and I saw a face different from what it used to be.

That wasn't enough.

I rushed to my hospital room's bathroom for a better view, as I knew it should have one.

I didn't know exactly how I should feel, since it was all about saving my life.

Thereafter, I left the bathroom and went back to the room, thinking this was a chance given to me to begin a new life, and I wouldn't gamble with that for anything.

I don't wish to be the soft, fragile person I used to be, as I could feel a heart made of stone already.

Just when I was almost lost in thought, his words caught me off guard.

“There is something you need to understand.

In all you do, don't be too hard on yourself. I may not be in your shoes, but I know the feeling of it all. It's quite clear that some people out there wants you dead, judging with the condition I met you the time I saved you.”

At first, I was short on words but then managed to say,

“It's fine. By the way, thank you so much for not leaving me. You are a lifesaver, and I can't thank you enough, Mister Luciano.” I took his hand and gently squeezed it.

With haste, he grabbed his hands away and placed them upon mine instead, then spoke in appreciation: "The only 'thank you' I need from you is for you to let go of everything that has happened and then try to move on. All I can say is that you have a dark past, and the best way to heal quickly is to let the past be the past.

I really want to forget everything that has happened in my life and move on, but…

A part of me desperately wanted to take a piece of flesh from those who had me hurt.