CHAPTER ONE
1155 Words
NADIA'S POV
The first thing I noticed as I opened my eyes were the ceiling and the bright hospital light.
I stared at it for a while as the smell of antiseptic made my stomach twist and almost nauseous.
Beside me, a machine was beeping steadily, reminding me that I was still alive.
Then, the deep pain. The pounding ache that wrapped my ribs, radiating through my entire body. It made my head ache.
I tried to shift, as a silent wince escaped my lips and my hand instinctively rose to my head.
I felt the bandages, thick and rough. My vision was blurred at first, but slowly turned into focus.
And then I saw him. Seated across from me, watching me in the bright hospital light, with those grey eyes, that carries something close to relief.
My heartbeat quickened.
I knew that face. God, I knew it too well.
The sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and familiar hands resting calmly against the chair's armrest. Everything about him looked strangely familiar.
The man sitting across from me was not the man I had been married to for three years. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did.
The air around him felt... safe. And that terrified me the most.
“You are awake,” he said quietly,
His voice was low and steady, carrying relief like a normal routine.
My mouth opened, a thousand questions passed through my mind—Who are you? How did I get here? But only one broken whisper escaped.
“You’re not him?”
He looked at me quietly.
“No,” he replied softly. “I’m not.”
The silence that followed should have choked me.
Three years of marriage had taught me that silence meant danger, it meant storm was coming. But this silence felt like a shelter, carefully placed between us.
A tear slipped down my cheek, that I didn't even realize I was crying.
He rose slowly and offered a small towel.
“Wipe your face,” he murmured. His fingers brushed mine…warm and steady. “Press the red button if you need the doctor. You will hurt your head if you keep crying.”
Before I could respond, the door opened. A doctor and two nurses entered.
The doctor bent over, as he shone the light into my eyes while the nurses took notes.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I managed a weak positive nod, but my eyes stayed locked on the man across the room.
“You’re indeed lucky this gentleman brought you in when he did,” the doctor said, glancing at him with admiration. “The beating was severe, concussion, almost brain swelling, and fractured ribs —Those men didn’t want you walking away.”
Fractions of memories flooded in. The begging at the west gate, the divorce papers heavy in my hands. My husband’s face twisting with disgust and fury as he ordered his bodyguards “Get rid of her.”
I turned my head toward the man standing beside my bed, my chest was filled with mixed feelings. Shame, gratitude, and confusion.
“How long have I been here?”
“Three days,” he answered, his voice gentle.
He moved closer and carefully tucked the blanket around me, with a tender touch that made my heartbeat quickened.
“You should rest. The doctor said you’ll feel sleepy soon.”
I wanted to fight it, I wanted answers, but my eyelids grew heavy.
“I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And sleep pulled me under.
When I opened my eyes again, he was still there as he promised.
The doctor returned for another check, smiling at my recovery, and took the bandages off, and a CT scan was scheduled.
The nurse warned me about dizziness before leaving us alone once more.
“How did I get here?” I asked, my voice steadier this time, although my heart still hammered hard.
“I brought you.”
“From where?”
He paused, those grey eyes searching mine. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
Something flickered across his face…pain, or regret. Then it smoothed away.
“The west gate of the Brooks property. Grey Fifth Avenue.”
The memories rushed back again. I squeezed my eyes shut as fresh tears flowed freely.
“You saw what they did to me,” I whispered. It wasn’t really a question.
“Yes.” He said, his voice was coated with something dark and protective.
“Thank you.” The words felt too small for what he had done.
Silence settled again.
This time I let myself look at him closely.
The same face I had fallen in love with as a child. The same face I had married, the same name that sounds solace to my heart. but where my husband had worn it like a mask, cold, calculated, and controlling, this man wore it as if it belonged to him with deep lines formed around his eyes and mouth that weren't there, or maybe they were. I was just used to the fake profile.
“Who are you?” I breathed.
“My name is Elias Brooks.”
The name hit my ears like a physical blow. I had married a man who claimed to be Elias Brooks. I had whispered it like prayers since I was five years old. The only name that showed me kindness at Sterling Academy after my parents died.
“That’s impossible,” I said, my voice breaking.
“I know.”
“He... he said he was Elias Brooks.”
“I know that too.”
My pulse rose. “Then one of you is lying.”
He met my gaze without hesitation, steady and unflinched.
“Yes… One of us is lying.”
Something deep inside me recognized the truth in his eyes. A safety I hadn’t felt in years. My body remembered him before my mind fully caught up.
“You’re the boy,” I said slowly, the realization terrifying in my chest. “From Sterling Academy.”
He stiffened, surprise flashing across his face.
“You remembered,” he murmured.
“I never forgot.”
“Neither did I,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion, then he swallowed quickly.
**********
I lay there, staring at the face I had loved in one form or another for two decades of my life. As emotions swirl up over my chest.
Not happiness—not yet, not relief. Just unnamed peace.
I was still broken, still healing, still terrified. But for the first time in three years, I didn’t break in silence.
He leaned forward slightly, his grey eyes darkening with something urgent, looking at me steadily.
“There’s something you must know, the man you married...didn’t just steal my name.” he continued, voice low and grave.“He stole my life.
- Writer
