LOVE RESTART

FROM THE ASHES: ALLISON'S REDEMPTION

"Allison!"

She furrowed her brows when she heard a man's voice calling out her name.

Who could be calling her?

The temperature is still high around her. Allison decided she would rather lose consciousness than cling to the tiny hope that she would survive.

"Allison!"

Allison felt the cold hands touching the side of her cheek.

"Allison, you're burning!"

Allison parted her lids slowly. The light blinded her sight. She could barely see the person in front of him. But she knew the voice belonged to Matthew Laxamana, the 30-year-old CEO of a hotel chain that owns the Royal Hotel, The King's Manor, and The Queen's Palace.

Allison felt dazed and disoriented as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the brightness. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't in the burning villa but rather a room. The beeping of machines and the hum of the air conditioning filled the air. Allison could hear the soft murmur of voices outside the door. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her head, causing her to wince and sink back into the pillows. As her eyes adjusted further, she noticed that an IV line was inserted in her right hand, and a white bandage still covered most of her left limbs.

Matthew called out her name again, pulling Allison out of her thoughts. She glanced up, and their eyes met. Allison furrowed her brows and wondered if it was worry that she saw in his gaze.

Matthew has dark brown hair that he always keeps short and neat. His hazel brown eyes have flecks of green and gold, his stares are cold, emotionless, and intimidating. His jawline is squared with a well-groomed beard. His nose has a high bridge, his lips are thin, and they tend to curve and twitch at the corners when he finds anything amusing. The expression on Matthew's face exudes confidence and intelligence, like someone who is in control of his life and knows what he wants. He is 6'3" tall, and his muscles are toned in all the right places, making him attractive enough to turn heads. He is rich, powerful, and clever. Allison has always thought about how he seemed too perfect, so he could as well be a fictional character coming straight from a romance book.

"Allison!" Matthew snapped his fingers in front of her face.

"H-huh?" Allison tried to speak, but her mouth felt dry. She cleared her throat and asked, "Where am I?" Her voice came out coarse, weak, and barely audible.

"Hush yourself," Matthew scolded Allison. "You were in a fire, Allison. You’ve been in a coma for months!"

She remembered snippets of memories - the sound of crackling wood, the scorching heat, and the searing pain that she thought had consumed her body. She tried to piece together what had happened, but her mind was still foggy from the accident.

Allison feels a slight itch on her left arm. She reaches out to scratch it, but as her fingers brush against the exposed skin, she winces in pain. Some parts of her forearm are covered in a thin layer of translucent skin-- smooth and unblemished, but also felt fragile and tender to touch. Allison can still see the faint outline of where the burns once were. Red and angry-looking welts have now faded into a soft pink hue, leaving behind delicate scars, like intricate lacework etched into her skin. The burns are still healing. They're slowly fading into the background as new skin grows over them.

As if on instinct, Allison searched for a mirror or anything she could use to see her reflection, as her right hand automatically moved to feel her face. Allison let out a sigh of relief that she didn't realize she was holding. She had been so focused on losing her face or eyesight to the fire. She couldn't help but think about how lucky she was to have come out of the incident despite her injuries.

Matthew silently watched Allison as if trying to gauge her reaction. Then he picked up the bell that was sitting on her bedside table and rang it. He muttered angrily under his breath when no one arrived at the door.

Allison looked around her. She was not at the hospital as she first thought, yet everything seemed strangely familiar. Allison waited for Matthew to say anything, but instead, he went out of the room, leaving her behind. Allison noticed the painting hanging on the wall. She knew right away where she was. This place is the Laxamana Estate in Forbes Park, owned by Matthew's family.

Matthew and I lived here as a newlywed couple. Why am I here? As far as I remember, I moved out of here following our divorce.

She stared at the painting on the wall that portrays the silhouette of a woman against the fading sunset. The woman was looking up to her left. Her long hair was flowing away from the direction of her head. One of her hands holds the hat on her head while she extends the other to her side. The hem of her dress follows a curvy line, creating a flowing movement.

A love lost and found. That was the painting's name. Someone gifted it to them on their wedding day. She used to think the woman was hers until she learned it was a portrait of Matthew's first love.

Allison stared at the painting and tried to calm herself. She stuck her tongue to wet her dry lips. Her mouth tastes bitter, and her throat feels dry. She felt her forehead. The burning sensation that she still feels might be due to fever. Her eyes fell to the hand touching the side of her thighs.

Why couldn't I feel my thighs?

Allison remembered how Yvonne had also left her with a broken leg before she set the villa on fire. Panic began to rise to her chest. Just then, the door to the room opened, revealing both Matthew, a female nurse, and a man she assumed was a doctor.

"I– I can't feel my legs. Why can't I feel my legs?" Tears began to flow freely from her eyes while she tried to pinch her thighs. Thinking about how she could not walk again made Allison hysterical.

Matthew rushed to her side and grabbed her hands. Then he turned to the doctor, who gave the nurse random orders. Allison could not seem to comprehend what was happening. The next thing she knew, her eyelids started to droop before she lost consciousness.

The sound of a ringing phone woke Allison up again. Hours must have passed because it had already turned dark outside. She automatically grasped her legs when she realized where she was, but to her surprise, her legs could feel this time.

"It was your body's way of responding to the trauma," Matthew suddenly said, startling Allison.

She followed the direction of his voice and found him sitting calmly on the couch. His hands were busy scrolling on the tablet in his hand. Allison stared blankly at him, not sure of what to say.

Matthew put the tablet down beside him. He looked at Allison and said, "Your legs and left limb were severely injured when the paramedics found you. But the doctors were certain you'd be able to walk again. However, you might need to undergo rehabilitation therapy."

Matthew walked closely to her bed and took the opportunity to explain to Allison her situation.

"Apart from your face, the injuries you have sustained from the fire and the assault have left you with various scars." Matthew sat at the edge of her bed and continued, "I have already consulted a cosmetic surgeon about them. Though the injury is not that severe, unfortunately, the burn will leave a noticeable scar on your left arm."

Allison nodded her head. She might appear calm outside, but she's having difficulty wrapping her head around her current predicament. She is worried about her career, among other things. Most of her wound is still covered with a bandage. Allison wondered if the scar could be hidden by makeup, and then sighed when she realized the hassle that would come with it.

She glanced at Matthew and realized the trouble he had to go through taking care of her. Allison suddenly felt guilty just thinking about it. Allison wanted to ask Matthew why he kept her in the house instead of the hospital. She was about to ask Matthew about her family, but her attention was pulled out by a familiar chime. Matthew got up, walked towards the bedside table, and retrieved Allison's phone from the drawer. The expression on his face remained grim as he handed the phone to her.

Allison furrowed her brows. She could not keep her hands from trembling, assuming who the message was from. She unlocked the phone and focused her gaze on the banner notification.

A part of the message says, "How are you, Allie? I am worried about you."

Marco! How dare he contact her?