The wife he forgot, the enemy he married

Angel’s pov “You’re late.” The door clicked shut behind me. “I’m exactly seven minutes late. That’s punctual by your standards.” Bradley didn’t smile. He was sitting on the edge of the dining table, suit jacket still on, sleeves rolled up, phone face-down beside him. He looked like a man who had been waiting long enough. “You didn’t text,” he said. “I was underground.” I replied quietly “You’re always underground.” “That’s the point of hiding,” I replied. His jaw tightened. “I don’t like it.” “You don’t like most things that keep us alive.” “That’s not funny.” “I wasn’t joking.” I crossed the room and dropped my bag on the chair. “Did you eat?” “No.” “Bradley.” “I was waiting.” “that’s more like you, always waiting.” “For you.” I sighed, softer now. “You shouldn’t.” “I know.” He stood and came closer. For a moment, neither of us spoke. That silence, the kind we shared too often, settled between us. Heavy, familiar, dangerous. “You smell like rain,” he said. “why won’t I, when i walked.” “You had a driver.” “I wanted to think.” “That’s rarely a good sign.” I looked up at him. “You’re one to talk.” His mouth twitched. “Fair.” I reached for his tie and tugged it loose. “Take this off. You’re home.” He didn’t move. “This place isn’t home.” “It is when I’m here.” His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. “That’s the problem.” I frowned. “Since when is that a problem?” “Since loving you became the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.” I let go of his tie. “We’re not doing this tonight.” “We do it every night.” “And we survive,” I said. “That counts for something.” He laughed without humour. “You always find a way to make fear sound manageable.” “Someone has to,” I said. “Otherwise, you’d drown in it.” “You didn’t have to.” “But I do,” I replied. “And I’m still here.” His voice lowered. “For now.” That word landed wrong, it hurts as much as I wanted to deny it. “For now?” I repeated. Bradley exhaled slowly. “Things are shifting.” “They’re always shifting.” “Not like this.” I folded my arms. “What happened?” “People are asking questions.” “About what?” “About me,” he said. “About what I care about.” My chest tightened. “You don’t talk about me, so why?” “I never have.” “Then what’s the issue?” “The issue,” he said carefully, “is that they don’t believe I care about nothing.” I stared at him. “So what are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” he continued, “that if they decide I’m lying, they’ll start looking harder.” “And they still won’t find me.” “They will if they get desperate, only if you want to hide in another planet” I stepped back. “You promised me.” “I promised to protect you.” “That’s not the same thing.” “It is in my world.” I shook my head. “You don’t get to rewrite promises when you’re scared.” His eyes darkened. “I don’t get scared.” “You’re terrified,” I said quietly. “You just wear it better than everyone else.” Silence again. Then he said, “If something ever happens to me” “No.” “Angel.” “No,” I repeated. “You don’t get to say that.” “If something ever happens,” he went on, ignoring me, “you disappear.” My hands curled into fists. “I hate that word.” “I know.” “It makes me sound like I never mattered.” “It makes you safe.” “At what cost?” “At the cost of being remembered,” he said bluntly. “That’s not living.” “It’s surviving.” “I didn’t fall in love with a survival plan.” “You fell in love with a man who doesn’t get to be selfish.” “That’s a lie,” I snapped. “You’re selfish every time you touch me. Every time you pull me into your world and then push me back out.” He stepped closer. “I never pushed you out.” “You hid me.” “To protect you.” “-So, you say.” “Because it’s true.” “Then look at me,” I said. “Look at what hiding costs.” He did. His expression cracked, just slightly. “I married you,” I whispered. “Not the empire, not the danger. You.” His voice dropped. “That marriage is the reason you’re alive.” “And the reason I’m invisible.” He reached for my hands. I didn’t pull away. “I will never forget you,” he said. I swallowed. “I am not sure, why you are saying this, all of a sudden but say it again.” “I will never forget you.” “Again.” “I will never forget you,” he repeated, slower this time. I nodded. “Me to” He kissed my forehead. “I have to go out tonight.” My stomach sank. “You said you were done, so?” “I was,” he said. “Then a meeting came up.” “Tonight?” “Yes.” “You’re tired Bradley” “I’ll manage, it shouldn’t take long” He smiles “You always say that.” “And I always come back to, don’t I?.” I studied his face. “I know you do, just promise me you will be home soon.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I promise.” “You’ll stay here?” he asked. “Yes, where else would i be then?” “Lock the doors.” “I know.” “Don’t answer unknown calls.” “I know.” I rolled my eyes “I’ll text when I arrive.” “I know.” He hesitated at the door. “Angel.” “Yes?” “If I forget to say it later… thank you.” “For what?” “For choosing me,” he said. I smiled. “I will always do baby.” He left, although the apartment felt too quiet afterward. I checked the locks, made tea, sat on the couch and stared at my phone. Minutes had passed, then an hour. I checked the time again. My phone rang. I smiled without looking. “You’re late.” Silence. “Bradley?” A man cleared his throat. “Is this Angel Coubly ?” “Yes.” “This is Saint Jude’s Hospital.” The world tilted. “Why are you calling me?” “There’s been an accident.” I stood so fast the chair tipped over. “Who?” “Bradley James.” My heart stopped. “Is he.....” “He’s alive,” the voice said quickly. “But unconscious.” “I’m coming,” I said. “Ma’am, only family.......” “I’m his wife.” A pause, papers shuffled. “I don’t see a record of........” “He doesn’t keep records,” I said. “For safety.” Another pause. Then, “You can see him. Briefly.” I don’t remember the drive, only the lights, the smell and the sound of machines. He looked wrong in the hospital bed, smaller and still. I took his hand. “You promised,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. “You don’t get to forget promises,” I said. “Not you.” Hours later, his eyes opened. Relief crashed through me. “Bradley.” He frowned. “Do you know where you are?” the doctor asked. “Yes,” Bradley said. “Do you know your name?” “Yes.” “And her?” The doctor nodded toward me. Bradley looked at me, he looked lost. “No,” he said. “Who is she?” Something inside me went quiet. “I’m Angel,” I said softly. His eyes held no recognition, no warmth, no memory. “I don’t know you,” he said. And just like that, I became the woman no one knows.