Chapter 5. Hospital Visit
1137 Words
Elara had never felt so unsteady in her life.
Her hands gripped the windowsill as she stared at the skyline outside the hotel suite. The city buzzed below with its usual rhythm—cars honking, people walking briskly, neon signs flashing promises of comfort and desire—but none of it touched her. She was suspended in a world that no longer made sense.
She’d married a stranger.
She’d overheard staff whispering about a car accident that no one had ever mentioned to her before.
And Luca Virelli—a man who was supposedly just her unconscious fiancé’s cousin—had just handed her a chipped silver hairpin she vaguely remembered giving to someone she couldn’t name.
Everything she thought she knew was beginning to crumble. But the worst part?
She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to put the pieces back together.
---
She found her father at breakfast.
He was seated at a private table in the hotel’s executive lounge, dressed in a tailored navy suit, skimming headlines on a digital tablet while sipping black coffee. His expression was as unreadable as ever.
“I need to see Rafael,” Elara said without greeting.
Her father looked up. “Elara. You look pale. Sit down. Let’s talk.”
“I’m not here to sit. I want to see him. Now.”
Mr. Moreno set his tablet down and folded his hands. “That’s not necessary. He’s recovering quietly, and there’s no change.”
“You mean you don’t want me to see him.”
“Elara, please. You’re still adjusting. You don’t need—”
“I need to see the man I was supposed to marry before you handed me over to someone else like a pawn in a chess game.”
His lips thinned. “We did what we had to do.”
She stepped forward, eyes sharp. “I wasn’t told about the accident. About my memory loss. About any of it. I had a right to know.”
“Elara, the past is best left buried. You’re married now. Let that be your focus.”
She leaned forward. “Either you tell me where Rafael is and let me see him, or I go to the press and tell them everything. Every lie, every hidden truth, every name you made disappear.”
He stared at her, silent for a long moment. Then, he exhaled and reached into his breast pocket.
He handed her a small white envelope.
Inside was a hospital name. A room number. A contact.
“He’s listed under an alias,” her father said calmly. “To keep the press away.”
“And me?”
He didn’t answer.
---
The hospital was on the other side of the city—private, expensive, and quiet. The kind of place built for discretion. For hiding things, and people.
Luca rode with her in the car. She didn’t ask him to, but he came anyway. He sat silently in the seat across from her, watching the traffic blur past.
Elara clutched the envelope in her lap. Her stomach churned with a strange mix of dread and duty.
When they arrived, the receptionist greeted them politely, glancing at the paper in Elara’s hand.
“This way,” she said, nodding to an orderly.
They were led down a long, sterile hallway with floors so polished they reflected the ceiling lights. Every room they passed was closed. Every nurse they passed avoided eye contact.
Finally, they stopped outside Room 707.
“Take your time,” the orderly said. Then he left them alone.
Elara hesitated outside the door. Her hand rested on the handle. She took a breath, then another. Her heart beat fast and loud, echoing in her ears.
She opened the door.
The room was dim and quiet.
Rafael lay on the bed, hooked up to multiple machines. An oxygen tube looped around his nose. His head was bandaged, and one arm was suspended in a sling. His skin was pale, lips dry and cracked.
He looked nothing like the polished man she remembered.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She took a step forward, then another. Her eyes scanned the monitors, the slow beep of the heart rate, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The sound was both comforting and terrifying.
He was alive.
But barely.
Luca stayed in the doorway, silent.
Elara moved to the chair beside the bed and sat down. She reached out tentatively, brushing her fingers against Rafael’s hand. It was warm. Human. Real.
And yet… something inside her felt hollow.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “I thought I’d feel more. But I just feel... tired.”
She didn’t expect him to respond, of course. But still, she waited.
Luca finally stepped inside, walking to the opposite side of the room. He didn’t speak.
“How long has he been like this?” she asked.
“Since the night before the wedding,” Luca replied softly.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because they didn’t want you to change your mind.”
Elara looked up sharply. “Change my mind about what?”
“About the marriage. About your future. About the truth.”
She shook her head, her hands trembling. “How did it come to this?”
Luca took a breath. “There’s something else you need to know.”
She waited.
“His car was tampered with.”
Elara froze. “What?”
“The brake line was cut. The crash wasn’t just an accident.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you saying... someone tried to kill him?”
“I’m saying someone didn’t want him at that wedding.”
Her blood ran cold. “Who?”
“I don’t know yet,” Luca admitted. “But I’m trying to find out.”
Elara stood slowly, her knees unsteady. She turned to Rafael again. “And what if it wasn’t just about keeping him from the wedding?”
Luca looked at her carefully. “What do you mean?”
“What if it was about silencing him? What if he knew something—about my accident? About my past?”
The room grew quiet again.
Elara stepped back, overwhelmed.
She turned toward the door. “I need to go.”
Luca followed silently.
As the elevator doors closed behind them, Elara looked at her reflection in the polished metal.
Her face was pale. Her eyes rimmed with something between tears and fury.
“I’m done pretending,” she whispered.
Luca said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
Because something had changed in her.
She wasn’t just going to accept the lies anymore.
She was going to find the truth.
Even if it hurt.
Even if it destroyed everything.
Even if it meant remembering him..
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