Chapter 4
It's been 3 days since he is laying on the hospital bed unconscious, i don't know him , who is he? Why was he lying on the alley injured?
they didn’t want to admit him at first.
the doctor said they couldn’t take a patient without any ID or family. rules, protocols, policies—i don’t even remember what he said after that. my brain was just focused on the blood on his shirt and the fact that his pulse was getting weaker.
so i lied.
i told them he was my husband.
the words felt foreign in my mouth. but they worked.
they rushed him into surgery after that. i sat outside, still in shock, still processing everything. the city lights blurred outside the glass wall. it felt surreal.
after hours, the doctor finally came out.
he survived.
but… he lost his memory.
he said it might be temporary, might come back in flashes. or maybe not at all.
i didn’t even know what to feel.
now i sit beside his bed, watching him sleep. chest rising and falling slowly. his face is calm but unfamiliar. i don’t know his past, his secrets, or his name really. all i know is… i couldn’t leave him there.
maybe that makes me stupid. or reckless.
but there’s something about him… something that pulled me in that night.
and now, i can’t pull away.
After half an hour, my eyes suddenly wide open. Shit. i must’ve dozed off again.
the hospital chair creaks under me as i shift slightly, neck stiff from sleeping in the same position for too long. my eyes flutter open, and for a second, everything feels blurry.
then, he’s looking at me.
awake.
his eyes aren’t just open… they’re locked on me. like he’s been staring for a while.
i straighten up, heart thudding.
he doesn’t say anything for a moment. just studies me, quietly, like he’s trying to place me in a memory he doesn’t have.
“who… who am i?” his voice is low, hoarse, unfamiliar to both of us.
my lips part. this is it. this is the moment i have to say it tell him the truth.
that he’s a stranger. that i found him bleeding. that this us was never real.
but before i can speak, the door opens.
the doctor walks in, smiling like this is any normal situation.
“ah, good, you’re awake,” he says warmly, glancing between us. “your wife’s been very worried.”
i freeze.
he turns to me. “you’ve been by his side every single day. that’s love.”
his wife.
i can feel his gaze shift again. more focused this time. more... curious.
i can’t look at him.
because now the lie has a heartbeat. a name. a history that never existed.
and i don’t know how to take it back.
"My wife? Are you my wife?" He asked , i swallow hard Don't know what to do. The doctor is beside me I can't tell him the truth.
"Y-yes" i replied while nodding.
his eyes don’t leave mine after i say it yes.
just one word, but it changes everything.
he doesn’t question it again. doesn’t doubt me.
instead, he gives me a soft, unsure smile.
“then… i guess i’m lucky,” he murmurs, voice still raspy. “you stayed.”
my throat tightens.
i nod, because words are too dangerous right now.
the doctor chats a little more things about rest, medications, follow-ups but all i can focus on is him.
the way he glances at me now like i mean something. like i am someone.
when the doctor leaves, silence folds over the room again. but this time, it’s different. not heavy. not suffocating.
he turns his head slightly on the pillow, watching me.
“what’s… my name?”
i freeze.
i hadn’t thought that far.
so many lies, and now i need more.
“Lorenzo ” i say quietly, almost unsure.
he repeats it, “Lorenzo ” like he’s tasting the syllables, letting them sink into him.
“do you—do you remember anything at all?” i ask, even though i know the answer.
he shakes his head. “just your face. first thing i saw when i woke up. you looked scared. and tired. but… beautiful.”
my breath catches.
he doesn’t know me.
but he’s speaking to me like i belong to him.
“i don’t know who i was before,” he continues, “but if you’re my wife, then… i want to know you again. all over.”
and there it is. a fresh start based on a lie.
but his eyes are so gentle, so trusting, it almost feels like the truth.
he reaches out slowly, fingers brushing mine.
“thank you… for not giving up on me.”
i look down, our hands touching like this is normal. like this is real.
and maybe, in this strange, upside-down world where nothing makes sense i don’t want to let go either.
the next few days move in slow motion.
the hospital discharged him earlier than expected. maybe because he looked stable enough, maybe because they thought he’d heal better at home with me. whatever the reason, i found myself standing at the front desk, signing discharge papers for a man whose name i made up.
“your husband will need rest,” the nurse told me with a warm smile, handing over a small bag of meds. “but he’s lucky to have someone like you.”
lucky.
if only she knew.
my apartment isn’t big. just a small one-bedroom with faded curtains, books stacked on the table, and dishes i forgot to wash last night. it’s nothing fancy. nothing impressive.
but he smiles when he enters. like it’s home.
“this is… where we live?” he asks, stepping in slowly, his fingers brushing the edge of the sofa like it holds forgotten memories.
i nod.
lie number… i don’t even know anymore.
he turns, eyes scanning the space. the single framed photo on the wall it’s just me, laughing with a friend. he stares at it for a long time before looking at me.
“there aren’t… pictures of us?”
the question is soft. innocent. curious.
i force a laugh. “uh, yeah. we had to take them down last month. termites.”
termites??
what the hell, ruhi.
he doesn’t question it. just nods like it makes perfect sense.
he walks toward the kitchen next, opening a few cabinets. everything seems new to him, like he’s discovering life again.
he finds a coffee mug with “not a morning person” written on it and grins.
“was this mine or yours?”
“yours,” i lie again. he laughs. “makes sense. i feel like i hate mornings.”
i smile, trying to hold myself together.
he sits on the edge of the bed after a while, wincing just slightly. i rush to help him, hands hovering awkwardly, unsure where to touch.
“you okay?”
he nods. “just a little sore. but i’ll be fine.”
he looks up at me again, eyes searching.
“can i ask you something?”
my heart skips.
“sure.”
“what kind of husband was i?”
the question knocks the air out of me.
i blink. “what do you mean?”
“was i… good to you? kind? did we fight a lot?”
he studies me like my face holds the answers he’s desperate for.
i sit beside him, hands clasped tightly.
“you… were quiet. a little stubborn. but you cared. a lot.”
he exhales, nodding. “i hope i made you happy.”
you didn’t.
because you didn’t exist in my life until 3 days ago.
but i say nothing.
just smile and whisper.
“you did.”
and for now, that lie is enough.
Then i realize, fuck i forgot to give notice to the principal about being Absent.
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