HELENA’S POV
“It’s me,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s Helena.” Correcting his obvious mistake of calling me Elena
He blinked, his brow furrowing, but his gaze remained strangely distant, confused. My heart seized, and I tried to stay patient, hoping his memory would spark. But as seconds ticked by, his gaze only grew more uncertain and a slow panic began to rise in my chest.
A quiet voice from the doorway broke through the silence. “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” the nurse said, and I forced myself to pull back from Dante, leaving him in his state of puzzlement. I walked to the nurse, gently pulling her out of the room, my steps slow, deliberate, trying not to show the tremor in my hands.
“What’s going on?” I spoke first, my voice laced with urgency. I couldn’t ignore the fine, dried stain on her uniform that looked disturbingly like blood. I wondered if it belonged to Dante
The nurse pressed her lips together, hesitant. “Perhaps we could wait for the doctor. He’ll explain-”
“No,” I cut her off, my voice shaky but determined. Couldn’t she see I needed answers now? My husband couldn’t remember me, and I didn’t have the patience to wait. “Tell me what’s going on. Now.”
She studied me, then sighed. “There’s a lot of medical terminology, but I’ll try to simplify it. Your husband experienced significant trauma to his head in the accident. It’s affected parts of his brain, and his memories-some of them-are… lost. This type of memory loss can be specific to certain periods, and in his case-”
She was speaking, but it all sounded like jumbled noise. Yes, I understood her words, but they didn’t seem to make any sense.
“We’re exploring treatments,” she continued gently. “But we don’t want to put further strain on him. Sometimes, with time, these things resolve, but… there’s also a possibility that they may never return.”
My voice sounded small. “That he might never remember?”
The nurse nodded, her expression somber, and I felt something within me shatter. “So he doesn’t remember anything? At all?”
“Not entirely,” she said cautiously. “He remembers a young man, and another woman-”
I stiffened, interrupting her, “What woman?”
“A tall, blonde woman.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’ve seen her on TV when my daughter handles the remote. Gianna, I believe.”
Gianna. Just as she said it, Gianna’s silhouette appeared down the hall, her figure perfectly composed, her face smug. She was dressed like she was about to hit a red carpet, not visit a hospital. I rolled my eyes; this was hardly a movie premiere. I had the intense urge to smack her face one more time.
“Oh, you’re here!” Gianna’s voice sang out when she reached me, a sickening smile on her face. “Have you seen him? Come say hi!” She didn’t wait for a response, grabbing my arm and tugging me back into the room before I could protest. But I stopped at the door, watching as she crossed the distance to Dante, throwing her arms around him.
Gianna didn’t waste a second, sauntering up to Dante and throwing her arms around him, her face lighting up as though she were seeing a long-lost lover. My heart pounded with a strange mix of anger and heartbreak as Dante… hugged her back. I watched, feeling like the walls were closing in, my chest tightening until it was hard to breathe.
Dante’s gaze flicked to me briefly, but there was nothing there. No spark, no memory. Nothing. “What’s Antonio’s daughter doing here?” he asked, looking to Gianna in confusion. “Does the whole town know I got into an accident?”
The words sliced through me, and I snapped. “I’m not just Antonio’s daughter; I’m your wife. We’re married,” I said, my voice barely holding steady.
Dante looked at me, his brow furrowing deeper, his face clouded with disbelief. After a tense pause, he finally replied, “Are you delusional? Why would I marry you? I always planned to marry her.” He gestured to Gianna, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world.
The walls around my chest tightened as I staggered back, but I wasn’t ready to let go. “What was the last thing you remember?” I pressed, willing myself to stay strong.
He seemed confused for a moment, glancing toward Gianna as though she could answer for him. “I was coming back from Gianna’s house… I was on my way home.”
Fuck no
“And before that?” I pushed, desperation lacing my voice.
He stared at me blankly, then shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
My frustration bubbled over. “How can you not remember? You left me a voicemail, Dante. You told me you loved me, that we’d work things out.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes, and he scoffed, “I did? Are you on drugs or something?” He sneered. “I always told the boys not to sell to women, but they don’t listen.”
A soft laugh came from the corner, where Gianna was watching with clear amusement. “Why don’t you get some rest, Helena?” she said with a saccharine smile. “I’ll show her out,” she added to Dante, but I was barely listening.
“Stay out of this, you bitch!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” Dante’s voice thundered, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat. His face was hard, a complete stranger’s face looking back at me.
My hands trembled as I looked at him, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. I tried one last time, my voice barely a whisper. “We got married two weeks ago, Dante. How can you not remember that?”
But before he could respond, a new voice cut through the tension-a voice that sent a shiver down my spine. “If you claim to be married so bad, then where’s your marriage certificate?” Matteo’s words were sharp, almost mocking, as he stepped into the room, his gaze steady on mine.
I froze, my heart plummeting. The marriage certificate. We hadn’t signed it yet. We’d planned to do it next week, a detail I’d brushed off as unimportant at the time. Now, with Matteo’s question hanging in the air, it felt like the final nail in the coffin.
How bloody convenient.