Chapter Five

Ethan's POV:

The air left my lungs.

I swallowed hard. "Can I see her?"

"She will be moved to a ward soon. You can see her then."

"I want a private ward arranged for her,” I said without hesitation. "The best one. The most expensive."

The doctor nodded. "I’ll have that done."

I barely heard him as he walked away. My gaze was fixed on the doors leading to her.

Five years of searching. And now, I could only pray she’d wake up.

Suddenly, the door swung open and the nurses wheeled Natalie out on a stretcher. An IV drip was connected to her arm. Bandages covered her head, and legs.

She looked nothing like the fiery, stubborn woman I had spent years searching for. She looked... broken. And I hated it.

I followed closely as they guided her down the hall. Now and then, one of the nurses would glance at me. But, I ignored them.

They entered a private ward and gently transferred her onto the hospital bed. Adjusting the monitors and IV stand, they made their final checks before stepping back.

“She’ll need plenty of rest.” One of them said, softly.

I gave a stiff nod, barely hearing her over the pounding in my chest. Then they left.

I reached for a chair, dragging it across the floor to sit beside her, resting my elbows on my knees. My fingers curled into fists, as my gaze locked on her face.

I leaned forward and rested my hands on the edge of the bed. “Natalie,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “What the hell happened to you?”

My hands tightened around hers and I let out a deep sigh. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I bent my head, pressing her hand against my forehead. "Please wake up, Nat..." I whispered hoarsely. "Please..."

She didn’t stir. The anesthesia hasn't worn off yet.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the painful memories—the love we once shared, the life we once had, and the moment it all fell apart. I thought I had lost her forever. But now, fate had thrown me back into her life, and I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse.

Then, suddenly, I felt a warm hand on my head.

My eyes snapped open, and I lifted my gaze.

Natalie was awake. She stared at me wide-eyed, her lips slightly parted.

"Nat..." I breathed, straightening up.

She tried to sit up, but I quickly placed my hands on her shoulders, stopping her. "Don’t move too much. You were involved in an accident, and you need to rest."

But she frowned and pushed against my grip. "My first debut will be held in a few days, and I’m still not done painting." She paused, blinking. "How did this even happen? I can’t remember anything about the accident."

My chest tightened.

She doesn't seem to be angry about me being here.

“Ethan, can you get the hospital to discharge me?” She pleaded. “You know how much I have been preparing for this debut. I have spent months deciding on each piece. So please, speak to the doctor.”

“What are you saying, Nat?” I asked, genuinely confused. “I don't think that you can even walk, and yet you are asking for such a favor?”

“Your R2D project is also coming up in March. So I believe that if you were in this situation you would ask me to do the same thing.” She argued.

R2D?

But that was five years ago.

“What are you saying, that was five years ago.”

“Five years ago?”

I nodded.

She chuckled. “Are you sure that you aren't the one who hit your head hard? It's February 8th, 2018. And your R2D project will be finalized on March 17th, 2018. Am I right?”

“It's 2023, Nat. Not 2018.”

“What are you saying, Ethan? It's 2018.” She pressed, tears welling up in her eyes.

“No, no, no!” I said, getting up. “Don't cry, please. I made a mistake, I was shocked because of the accident and said something stupid.” 

As soon as she calmed down, I took a deep breath and said. “I was told to inform the doctor as soon as you wake up, so please give me a few minutes.”

She sniffed and nodded.

Then I pressed a button, on the wall and soon a nurse rushed in. “Stay with her for a few minutes, I need to see the doctor.”

With that, I turned and left the room. I rushed to the reception and asked a Male nurse for directions to the office of the doctor who treated Natalie.

As soon as I reached his office, I took a deep breath. And then I pushed the door open.

Stepping inside, I saw the doctor seated, his eyes fixed on his laptop.

Clearing my throat, I sat before him.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Blackwood?” He asked.

“My wife, she can't remember anything that happened five years ago. She thinks that we are still in 2018.” I explained. “You mentioned partial paralysis and brain damage. And nothing about amnesia.

“I didn't mention Amnesia because it's a very rare possibility. And I wasn't expecting it to be the outcome. However, after such an injury, and from what you just mentioned, it seems like your wife has retrograde amnesia.”

“What?”

“Someone who develops retrograde amnesia after a traumatic brain injury may be unable to remember what happened in the years, or even decades, before that injury. With retrograde amnesia, memory loss usually involves facts rather than skills. For instance, someone might forget whether or not they own a car, what type it is, and when they bought it — but they will still know how to drive.” He explained.

I froze.

“What do you mean?” I stuttered.

The doctor’s gaze was sympathetic. “Just like you said, your wife believes it’s still 2018.”

If she thinks that it's 2018, it means that in her mind, she’s still my wife?

The air left my lungs. 

She still thought we were together. She still thought we were in love.

“This kind of memory loss can be temporary, permanent or progressive. She may recover pieces of it over time, or it may all come back at once.” He exhaled. “However, it’s crucial that no one tries to force her to remember. Her mind needs time. Pushing her could make things worse.”

My eyes widened.

Did the universe just give me a chance to right my wrongs and win my ex-wife back?