Semua Bab The Mafia's Bride : Bab 81 - Bab 90

Chapter 81AnnalisaThey say grief has five stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But what about the grief of losing someone who is still breathing? What stage do you get stuck in when the love of your life looks at you like you are a total stranger?I sat by Cristiano's hospital bed, the room completely shrouded in that suffocating, sterile silence. Machines beeped steadily, a rhythm that should have been reassuring but only made my nerves more uneasy. The rising and falling of his chest was like a reminder that he was still here, but the warmth and spark that used to be in his eyes were somewhere else, somewhere I couldn’t reach.The room was cold. Or maybe it was just me that felt it.My fingers twisted into the blanket, and I forced myself to breathe evenly. Dr. Moretti’s words still echoed freshly in my head. He said, ‘Memory loss can happen after prolonged surgery. It may be temporary’I clung to the word ‘may’ like it was a lifeline on a stormy day. I ju

Chapter 83CristianoThey say you only appreciate the sky when you have been buried underground. In this hospital room, buried was exactly how I felt. Being trapped at the center of a cube of white walls, dim lights, and the space filled with nothingness where my memories should have been.Since I woke up, every minute felt like a crash course in reality. Nurses with their forced smiles and ice-cold hands poked and prodded me, but none of it dug deep enough to scratch the itch of my missing memories. I had been bed-bathed more times than I could count, their soft sponges against my skin a bitter reminder of how helpless I had become.But today, I told myself I have had enough.“I want a real bath,” I told the nurse, my voice rough, like gravel being scraped along the pavement. She pursed her lips, her pen frozen over the clipboard, and rattled off a list of medical restrictions: no showers, no standing too long, no this, no that. The word “no” clanged around my head like a jail cell d

Chapter 85CristianoSo there I was, sitting across from Dr. Moretti, my fingers tapping impatiently against the armrest of the chair. The screen before me displayed a glowing CT scan of my brain that looked so clean and detailed as if it held the answers I had been searching for all my life. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.“Mr. Morano,” Dr. Moretti began, adjusting his glasses in that cliché doctor way, his voice calm and professional. “I must commend you. Your health has greatly improved. There are no signs of tumors or cancerous cells in your brain anymore.”Great news, right?That should have been a relief to hear. It should have made me feel like I had conquered something significant. But instead, I felt like a man who had reached the final page of a book only to realize that the ending had been ripped out.“If I’m recovering so well,” I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Then why the hell haven’t I gotten my memory back? Living like this... it’s not exactly ideal.”

Chapter 87AnnalisaWeeks later…“Wifey, are you sure you got this?”Cristiano’s voice was muffled through the bathroom door, laced with something between concern and a little bit of amusement.I gripped the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection. “I’m good, Cristiano.”“You don’t need help?”A small smile tugged at my lips, but it quickly faded as I looked down at my stomach, where the bandages wrapped around me like a security blanket. “I got it, Cris.”There was silence from his side for a while. Then he spoke again, “Okay. I’m right here if you need me.”I inhaled deeply, forcing air into my lungs like it would somehow steady my nerves. I wasn’t sure why I was this nervous. It was just a scar. Or at least, it used to be.My fingers trembled as I reached for the gauze, feeling the rough texture beneath my touch. The bathroom light felt too bright, too harsh, casting sharp shadows against my skin. I swallowed hard and began peeling the bandages away.The first thing I noticed wa

Chapter 89Annalisa“You’re acting weird.”Cristiano, who had been scrolling through his phone, barely glanced up even after I brought it up. “What?”I narrowed my eyes. “I said—you’re acting weird.”Still, I got no proper reaction. He just hummed, still looking at his phone like I hadn’t just called him out.Okay. Now that was very suspicious.I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the dining table, and studied him carefully. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday. No, actually, since the day before. And I don’t like it.”Finally, he sighed, locking his phone and setting it down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Liar. He did know what I was talking about.This was Cristiano we were talking about. The same man who was emotionally constipated 90% of the time and would rather fight a bear than sit down and have a feelings talk. And yet, for the past two days, he had been soft. More attentive. More there. It wasn’t bad. In fact, I would normally love it. But something about i