LOST IN HIS ARMS

CHAPTER FOUR — FRAGMENTS OF ME

ELORA'S POV

I woke to a humming that wasn’t quite music and wasn’t quite silence. The world was blurry, like looking through fogged glass. My head throbbed, every beat a dull drum in my skull. I tried to lift my hand, but it felt foreign, as though it didn’t belong to me. Panic fluttered in my chest.

Where…where am I?

The room came into focus slowly. White walls. Bright fluorescent lights. The beeping of a monitor somewhere nearby. A smell—antiseptic, sharp, and metallic—filled my nose. The faint rustle of movement came from somewhere beyond my vision. I wanted to sit up, but my body refused, weak and unsteady, trembling in ways I didn’t understand.

Then I heard a voice. Low. Calm. Steady. “You’re awake.”

I tried to speak, but my throat felt tight. A dry rasp escaped. “Where…?” I croaked.

“You’re safe. You’ve been in an accident,” the voice said. And then I saw him.

He stood near the edge of the bed, hands in the pockets of his dark trousers, posture tense but controlled. His hair was dark, slightly tousled, as if he had been driving for hours. His eyes—stormy, piercing—assessed me carefully, like a man trying not to break something fragile. I froze.

He’s…handsome. Too handsome. Too imposing. I felt my chest tighten. My heart thudded, not from fear exactly, but from something else I didn’t understand. Something electric.

“Just hold on okay, let me go get the doctor," he said.

The doctor came, and every touch felt like I was being pounded with a very big stick…no rod or, should I say, I was being hacked like a pound of mutton.

“Do you know your name?” he asked cautiously, as if he feared the answer.

I blinked. My mind drew a blank. Name? Who am I? The words escaped me. Panic bubbled in my chest. My hands fumbled at the blankets, grasping at anything to anchor myself.

“I…don’t know,” I admitted, my voice trembling. The truth tasted bitter and heavy. My chest ached as tears pooled in my eyes.

He held his small touch to my eyes, and then asked me to follow the movement of his fingers.

“Miss, how do you feel? Any pains?” he asked.

“I feel like my body is on fire, my head aches, it's throbbing and banging seriously,” I said.

“Don't worry, okay, we'll give you something for the pain, okay? The doctor continued, You were involved in an accident. Can you tell us what you remember?”

“I…I don't know, accident? How, what? I don't know, I can't remember anything. Why do I feel this way? Doctor, what's going on? What's wrong with me? Please answer me.”

At this point, I was crying profusely, and it felt like there were about a million minions in my head hitting the konga drum.

The doctor just stood there speechless not knowing what to say. I didn't even know who felt more confused, me or him.

Then the handsome man who was by my bed stepped up, he knelt slightly, lowering himself so he wasn’t towering over me like some intimidating figure. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

His voice was calm, controlled. There was warmth there, faint, but enough to make me believe him. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to. But a deep, instinctual fear whispered otherwise.

I tried to remember, tried to grasp at the edges of myself. Something…something hurt. Faces, names, places—they were gone. Like smoke slipping through my fingers. I pressed my hand to my forehead, wincing.

“You’re in the hospital,” he continued. “You were hit by a car. You’re going to be okay, but you need to rest.”

Hit by a car? I struggled to reconcile the words with the pounding in my head. My body felt foreign, as if I had woken in someone else’s skin. Panic rose again, sharp and hot.

“Why…how…” My voice faltered.

“I can see a necklace on your neck with the name Elora, do you think that's your name? Does it ring a bell?” the handsome man asked.

His voice brought calm to me and his eyes were soothing.

“I don't know, I really do not know, what am I doing here? What's going on? Can someone please talk to me? I said.

The doctor said, “Don't worry, Miss… Elora, we're going to take you for some CT scan, and then we'll know what we're dealing with here, okay. We promise to do our best,” he assured me. “The nurses will come in and prep you for that okay”, said the doctor as he left the room.

“Do I know you, Mr? Have I seen you before today? Where was I when you found me?” I asked the handsome man.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced toward the door, then back at me. His eyes softened, just a little. “I…was driving,” he said carefully. “You stepped onto the road. I didn’t see you in time. I—” He stopped, swallowing. I caught the hint of guilt in his voice, tightly restrained, but it was there.

I wanted to shrink under the weight of it, but part of me—something primal—wanted to look at him. Really look. His jaw was strong, face angular, dark stubble shadowing his skin. Even in his own guilt and exhaustion, he radiated control. Strength. And…something else. Something magnetic I couldn’t name.

I pressed my lips together, suddenly shy. My cheeks burned. My voice caught again. “You…you were driving?”

He nodded, eyes unwavering, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. There was a quiet intensity there, a presence that made the edges of my fear dull, if only slightly. And yet, I didn’t know him. I didn’t know anything.

A nurse came in then, moving with brisk efficiency, checking monitors and adjusting the surrounding blanket. And asked the handsome man for permission to take me away. I let her do it, the small routines grounding me in the unfamiliar. She smiled kindly, a fleeting reassurance, but my attention kept drifting back to him. The man standing at the foot of the bed, watching me, silent, patient.

“You…are you going to…stay?” I asked, my voice tentative. The words tasted strange, unfamiliar.

He hesitated, jaw tightening ever so slightly. Then, with a careful exhalation, he nodded. “Yes. I’ll stay. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Something fluttered in my chest at the words. Relief, gratitude, and…something else, sharper, unfamiliar. My body responded in ways I didn’t understand. Shyness, warmth, confusion, and a strange sense of safety all tangled together.

Slowly. The word made a strange, hollow echo in my chest. Memory. Of what? My life felt like a book with the first pages ripped out. Blank spaces where names, faces, and experiences should have been. A dull ache followed the void.

He stepped closer, and I couldn’t help but notice the way he moved—careful, deliberate, controlled. I flinched slightly, not out of fear, but because he was so…handsome. Imposing. I wanted to hide, yet I was inexplicably drawn to him.

“I…” I tried to form words, but nothing came. My throat was dry, voice weak. Tears stung the corners of my eyes again.

He knelt beside me again, this time letting his hand hover near mine, not touching, just near enough for me to feel the subtle warmth radiating from him. “I won’t leave. You’re not alone,” he said softly, almost a whisper, though the weight behind the words was undeniable.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him completely, but the emptiness, the blankness in my mind, screamed that I couldn’t. Not yet. I had no anchor, no name, no past. Only the present, and it was terrifyingly uncertain.

I leaned back against the pillows, letting the blanket cocoon me. The pain in my head throbbed steadily, but the warmth of his presence at the edge of my consciousness was a small balm. Fear and trust, uncertainty and curiosity—they swirled together in a dizzying storm inside me.

He watched me with that calm, controlled intensity, like he was assessing not just my injuries but my very soul. And I felt…caught. Drawn. Vulnerable in a way that made me both anxious and strangely safe.

Hope.

And fear.

Because I didn’t know him, I didn’t know myself, and I didn’t know how long I could survive being this small, this exposed, in front of someone so…imposing, so undeniably alive.

But in that moment, as my pulse slowed and my breathing became steadier, as I was wheeled out of the room, I realized one thing: he wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what I needed.