Chapter One — The Stranger at My Bedside
1116 Words
I come awake to a smell I don’t know—soft rose, warm vanilla, something tender and out of place in a place like this. My eyes fight against the harsh white brightness of hospital lights as the ceiling sharpens into view. Everything feels suspended, hanging between a dream I can’t remember and a reality I can’t recognize. Machines hum, steady and cold, the air thick with sterilized emptiness.
And then—
A hand on mine.
Warm. Steady. Familiar in a way that terrifies me.
“I’m your wife,” a trembling voice murmurs.
The words hit like a blow. I freeze, trying to grasp a memory that should be there, that should rise automatically… but nothing does.
“What…?” My voice scratches out, dry and raw, like every breath is coated in dust.
She swallows hard. Her eyes shimmer as she lifts my hand to her cheek, holding it there like it belongs to her. “Evelina. Eva. We’re married.”
Married.
The word echoes like a bell tolling in an empty cathedral.
My chest tightens. My pulse spikes. My mind fights itself, clawing for an anchor that doesn’t exist.
“I don’t remember,” I whisper, as the room tilts slightly. My hand—she’s holding it so tightly—it feels like it belongs to another man living another life I’ve never lived.
Her tears fall silently, landing on my skin like confessions. “I know. I know you don’t. But I remember everything. You just… you just have to trust me, Adrian.”
Before I can respond, before I can even decide if I want to pull away or hold on—
The door slams open.
“Step away from him immediately!” a woman commands, her voice laced with steel.
My body reacts. My heart stutters painfully.
Victoria Cole.
My mother.
Her presence fills the room like a storm: sharp eyes, cold authority, a force that bends everyone in the room without trying. Behind her, nurses huddle like frightened birds.
“She’s lying,” Victoria spits, her voice poisonously calm. “Alex—Adrian—this woman is manipulating you. She wants your money, your life, your name. She has no connection to you.”
I flinch. My mother’s certainty is terrifying. But so is Eva’s breaking expression.
“No,” Eva whispers, stepping closer, her fingers gripping mine like she’s drowning. “I have proof. All of it.”
She pulls out a folder I hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying. My name is written on the front—my handwriting, unmistakably mine.
“For Adrian Cole.”
Something inside me cracks.
She places it in my lap, hands shaking. I almost don’t want to open it, afraid of what I’ll find, afraid of what I won’t.
But I do.
And my world shatters.
Photographs spill out—of me. With her. Smiling. Holding her. Kissing her. Wedding photos. Honeymoon photos. My signature on a marriage certificate. My face pressed against hers, eyes bright as if she were my entire universe.
“This… this can’t be real,” I breathe, but the papers tremble in my hands. “I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember you.”
Something in her eyes breaks, but she doesn’t let go of my hand. “Memory loss doesn’t erase the truth. And the truth is—we were in love. You almost died. But we had a life together. A real one.”
Before I can speak, another set of footsteps flood the room, louder, heavier.
Detectives. Cameras. Flashlights.
“Stand aside,” one says sharply. “This woman is under active investigation for fraud.”
Eva steps in front of me immediately. “No!” Her voice is small but fierce, shaking but unyielding. “You don’t touch him.”
Something primal rises inside me. Protective. Irrational. Instinctive. I don’t know where it comes from, but it takes over my body.
“Wait,” I find myself saying as authority creeps into my voice. “All of you… stop.”
They pause. Even Victoria.
My hand tightens around Eva’s without me thinking.
Her body stills.
Her breath hitches.
The room feels too small, everyone too close.
But then—
A sharp, slicing pain spears behind my eyes.
And my vision explodes.
Flashes.
A beach.
Warm sunlight.
Eva laughing, her hair whipped by the wind.
My voice calling her name—Adrian, say it again—
A kiss under crashing waves.
A wedding night.
Fire.
Screams.
Darkness.
I gasp, collapsing back into the bed as the pain fades but leaves a hollow ache in my skull.
Eva leans over me, whispering, “It’s okay… just breathe… look at the photos again. You’ll remember. You have to remember.”
I want to. God, I want to. Because something inside me is pulling toward her—magnetically, irresistibly—as if my soul recognizes her even when my mind refuses.
But the harder I try, the less sense anything makes.
And then—
A voice.
Low. Cold. Almost inhuman. Right behind my ear.
“You weren’t supposed to wake up… yet.”
Every hair on my body rises. I twist toward the sound, heart slamming against my ribs.
But the corner of the room is empty.
“Who was that?” I whisper, breath trembling.
Eva’s grip on my hand tightens again, but her eyes dart around, terrified. “I don’t know.”
The lights flicker.
The shadows stretch unnaturally long, like someone is standing just out of sight.
The monitor beside me speeds up, beeping too fast.
Someone is here.
Not imagined.
Not a memory.
Here.
Watching.
But when I look again—there’s only darkness.
And yet… I know someone else is in this room. Someone who doesn’t want me conscious. Someone who doesn’t want me remembering.
Eva leans closer, desperate. “Adrian… I can explain everything. But you can’t trust them. Not your mother. Not the detectives. No one. Only me.”
Victoria snaps, “He doesn’t know you.”
Eva whispers, eyes locked on mine, “But your heart does.”
And God help me—
She’s right.
Because even with no memories, even with fear clawing at me, even with danger threading the air—
My hand tightens around hers.
My pulse syncs with hers.
My chest aches with a recognition I cannot deny.
There is a story between us.
A past buried.
A truth stolen.
A love I cannot remember—but feel with every beat of my heart.
And one thing becomes painfully, terrifyingly clear:
Eva is not the only one hiding secrets.
And whatever I’ve forgotten—
Someone is willing to kill to keep it buried.
- Writer
