I remain in the waiting area with Ruslan and Katia. It’s white and smells of antiseptic and death. Unlike what people think, death isn’t rotten; it can be as clean as a hospital smell.
Over time, Katia and Ruslan take seats on the bland green chairs. I don’t. The adrenaline wave that’s been gripping me since the moment I saw Rai lying at the bottom of the stairs still beats under my skin.
It’s different from the residual burn in my chest from the gunshot wound.
The wait takes forever. It’s probably half an hour but feels like fucking years. I travel the length of the area back and forth like a trapped bloody animal.
The fact that I can’t do anything messes with my fucking brain. It’s so similar to that time when I watched my parents die and waited for them to move to no avail.
No. The verdict won’t be the same this time.
“How did she fall?” I catch Ruslan whispering to Katia.
“How would I know?” she murmurs back. “I was out, remember?”
“It doesn’t make sense for the miss to fall down the stairs. It’s just not her.”
“I know. Unless…”
He faces her fully. “What?”
“Do you think…do you think someone pushed her?
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap, glaring at them.
They stare at me right back. Ruslan and Katia have never hidden the fact that they don’t like me, probably because of the stories Rai fed them about me or because they think I’m controlling her a bit too much. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been occupying most of her time lately, and she can’t sit down and play with them anymore, or whatever the fuck it is they do when they’re together.
But they’re forced to respect me due to the brotherhood hierarchy, so they don’t glare or ignore me.
Ruslan remains silent. He’s always been blank since we were both Rai’s guards nine years ago.
“It’s just that I find it odd for Miss to fall down the stairs,” Katia says matter-of-factly.
“Why would that give you the idea that she was pushed?” I stop my long walk and face her.
“Because it feels like it.”
“It feels like it?”
“It’s an instinct.”
An instinct. Fuck. It’s the same instinct I had when I came out of the room earlier.
If this was indeed caused by someone, I’ll find out, and when I do, they should start counting their fucking days.
The door to the exam room slides open and I rush to the doctor, meeting him in front of it. He removes his mask, revealing greasy skin and droplets of sweat on his thin upper lip.
“How is she?” I ask.
“She sprained her neck and bumped her head, and although it was mild, it’s probably the cause of her fainting.”
“And? Is she fine?”
“Well, yes, we believe so.”
“What the fuck do you mean by we believe so?”
“You’re her husband, right?”
“Yes.”
“It would be better for you to come in and see for yourself, but please don’t distress her.”
“She’s awake?”
“Yes. She’s just opened her eyes.”
The sense of relief hits me like an overwhelming wave, and I take a moment to soak it into my burning lungs.
I push past the doctor and jog inside, uncaring about the strain I’m causing to my wound.
Rai is lying on the bed. The color has somewhat returned to her cheeks, but she’s still pale. Her eyes appear lifeless and without light as she stares at the ceiling.
“Rai! Are you okay?” I ignore the chair beside her bed and sit on the mattress. I hold her pale as fuck frail hand and pretend we’re not in a place that reeks of death.
I’m getting her out of here as soon as possible.
Her head turns in my direction and she stares at me for a second too long. Unblinking but unfocused.
Her blue eyes were once bright and expressive, but they’re now emotionless like a wax doll.
The fuck?
“Hey, Princess. Are you okay? Talk to me.”
Her pale lips twist and she murmurs the words that cut me in half, “Who are you?”
3
Kyle
I’m stunned into silence.
A long, excruciating silence.
Did Rai just ask me who I am, or have I somehow lost my mind?
I gently touch her shoulder, trying not to inflict pressure, even though all I want to do is hold her close and make us both forget this morning ever happened.
She flinches, and for the first time, I see the current of uncertainty in her eyes. I’ve never witnessed such emotions in them before, like they’re fire in the ocean. No matter how much it whirls and embraces the wind, it’ll eventually be drowned.
“Why are you touching me? Who are you?”
“My name is Kyle. I’m your husband.”
She shakes her head the slightest bit. It seems like she wants to do it more, but the soft neck brace stops her. “I don’t know you, and you certainly aren’t my husband.”
I tighten my hold on her shoulder to feel her warmth as I smooth my voice. “It’s me, Rai.”
I maintain eye contact because I need the connection I’ve always had with Rai right now. She may change and gather her hair up to be the woman the world demands of her, but when I stare deep in her eyes, I see the burn for more, the flames that rise with the need of passion.
Not today.
Today, the connection is off, as if the fire and the flames were drowned by the sea. Her pupils are dilated and she’s stiff as a board in my arms.
It’s like she doesn’t know me at all. As if she’s being touched by a complete stranger.
“Let me go.” There’s a note of fear in her voice.
My fingers dig into her shoulder, perhaps not too gently because of the current of emotions traveling through me right now, but I try to speak as calmly as possible. “Rai, you might be confused, but I’m really your husband.”
“Let me go!” she screams. “Help! He wants to hurt me. Someone help me!”
The fuck? “I would never hurt you.”
The doctor and the nurse barge inside, but remain close to the door when I glare them both down. Ruslan and Katia join, too, their eyes studying Rai intently.
“Help me.” She tries to wiggle free, but I don’t allow her room to move.
“Stop asking for others to help you from me,” I snap, my temper getting the better of me. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”
She flinches, but her lips thin in a line.
“You can’t talk to a patient like that,” the doctor scolds.
“Fuck off. You don’t get to tell me how I speak to my wife.”
“H-help me,” Rai whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please help me, please.”
This is not the Rai I know. She would never plead with others, let alone allow them to see her cry.
“Do you need anything, miss?” Ruslan’s unsure gaze slides to me, then back to her.
“Who are all these people?” She stares between the three of us, and then back to her guard as if he is her only reprieve. “Ruslan?”