Chapter 42
Salvario
She looks at me again. Then she turns to Avira and murmurs something I can’t hear from the couch, since she’s on the bed. Today she won’t come near me and gets uncomfortable when I get close.
Avira murmurs something to her, then looks at me.
“Hey. Wen wants to know your name.” Elowen buries her face in Avira’s shoulder.
In the past seven days, this is the twenty-third time I’ve told her my name. It’s starting to feel like karma.
“Salvario.”
She lifts her head and whispers something to Avira, who relays it. “Wen wants to know why you’re here.”
“This is my room. Where else would I go?” I say, holding Elowen’s gaze. We’re having the same conversation for the second time today.
She’s in much better shape now. She doesn’t hallucinate anymore, no woman with an axe watching her, no man with a knife sitting on her bed. She goes into hypoactive delirium less often.
Last night, she recognized all her family and spoke to them normally. Almost all her memories were intact, even though her rational thoughts still weren’t fully functional. But she had no memory of me. Not once has she shown a single sign that she remembers who I am.
Her psychiatrist said it could be because things related to me were too stressful for her while she was being drugged.
But she’s been staying close to me, clinging to me all the time. Just today, out of nowhere, she wanted to stay away from me.
Today she thinks she’s sixteen, talking with Avira about things from back then. I thought she’d improve after her nap, but she didn’t, and she’s still the same.
“It’s not your r-room. It’s m-my r-room,” she says to me.
Her voice is still slurred, but it’s more recognizable now. The stuttering is limited to ‘s,’ ‘r,’ and ‘m.’ Her whole body doesn’t shake as violently as before. There has been a little improvement.
She has lost almost all her grip strength. She can’t hold anything. She can’t walk without support. I’ve been helping her with bathing and everything else. These are the neurological injuries that drug overdose left her with.
That filth drugged her twice the first day, three times the second, and ramped it up to six times a day before she collapsed on the plane. That day he couldn’t drug her, and within an hour of its absence, she lost consciousness.
“You’re sharing your room with me,” I answer.
She frowns, her lips curving down. “You are lying.”
“He’s homeless, Wen. Yesterday you helped him and promised you’d let him stay.”
She looks at Avira, then at me, her frown softening.
“Why don’t you try to talk to him and make friends while I go grab us some snacks?” Avira suggests.
“What if he hurts m-me?” she asks Avira.
“Oh no, that’s impossible. He’s such a sweetheart, he’s never hurt anyone.”
She looks at me again, a flicker of trust appearing in her big eyes. I get up from the couch and walk toward the bed. She tenses as I approach.
“I won’t hurt you. Come walk with me.”
Her face flushes. She quickly turns to Avira. “He’s asking m-me out.”
Avira shrugs, grinning. “He likes you.”
She looks back at me, shy but cautious. Avira nudges her. “Go on. Just walk a little on the balcony with him.”
She bites her lip and looks down. “But I can’t walk.”
“It’s okay. I’ll help you.” I extend my hand.
Her physical therapist advised against a wheelchair. No matter how difficult it is for her to walk, even with support, we can’t do it for her. Full assistance could risk her losing all sensation in her legs.
She looks at me again, slowly raising her trembling hand and placing it weakly in mine. I close my fingers around hers. She edges closer to the side of the bed, and I hold her shoulders, helping her rise.
Her legs start trembling the moment they touch the floor. With one hand on her shoulder and the other holding hers, I help her take a small step.
With small, slow steps, we reach the balcony. It's evening now, and the air is cool without being cold. The ocean glows with the orange light of the setting sun.
“I want to s-sit.”
“Let’s sit, then,” I say softly.
I lead her to the chair facing the ocean and help her settle into it. She has the view from here. I move the table aside and place my chair right in front of her, so I can see the most beautiful view too.
Her face no longer looks lifeless. It hasn’t regained all its color and shine, but at least she looks alive. Her eyes are still dull and tired, but none of this can reduce the beauty of my wife.
Technically, she isn’t my wife anymore. Now that I know I’m Salvario, and Hunter was that bastard who is now dead, our marriage holds no value on paper, but I’ve made a habit of calling her my wife.
I’m still wearing the ring. She isn’t. I want to make her wear it again, but not when she can’t recognize it.
I’m afraid she never will. Her psychiatrist said the chances of her losing my memory permanently are very slim, but they are not zero.
I don’t want her to lose those memories, and it’s only because I’m selfish. I don’t have our memories, and I want her to share hers. There’s another reason too, and it’s very plain: I just don’t want her to forget me.
She looks at me, and a faint shade of pink covers her pale cheeks.
“Why are you watching m-me?”
“Because you’re beautiful.”
The pink deepens. She smiles shyly and looks away.
I lift my hand and bring it to her face. She flinches when I touch her cheek. She stares at me with parted lips as I tuck the strands away from her cheek and behind her ear, caressing the path as I go.
When her eyes don’t move and her mouth doesn’t close, I lean forward and give in to the temptation of kissing her lips.
She gasps when our mouths meet. I hold her chin gently and kiss her softly. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t push me away either. I don’t go deeper into it, and I pull away a little too early for my liking, since the last thing I want is to freak her out.
She keeps staring at me, stunned, even after I move back. I don’t move too far away though, our faces stay inches apart.
And then she whispers, “Hunter.”
My heart stops. I hold my breath and wait for her to say something more.
Her eyes water as she looks into mine.
“Where were you?” she asks in a trembling voice. “I called for you.” Thick tears fall down her cheeks. “You d-didn’t come. I was alone among those m-monsters.”
I hold her face in my hands and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll never leave you alone.”
She weakly hits my arm, trying to push my hands away from her face, but she doesn’t have the strength to move them. “You’re lying,” she chokes out the words, her anger tangled with sobs.
“I’m not lying. Please forgive me. I promise I’ll never let any monster near you again.”
She sobs, watching me with unconvinced, angry eyes.
I get up from my chair, lift her from hers, and settle back down with her on my lap.
I wipe away her constantly falling tears, but she keeps looking at me with hurt and pain in her eyes.
It feels like a blade piercing straight through my heart, and I deserve it for leaving her alone with that monster.
I kiss her eyes, over her wet lashes. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
She blinks slowly, and her eyes slowly lose focus.