Chapter 4
CLARA'S POV
But when I looked at the screen, it was a different name.
Cole. My brother was the one calling. I hadn't spoken to him in almost two weeks.
I answered immediately. "Hey."
"Clara," Cole said. "You sound tired."
"I just survived three hours in a conference room with men who think moving a wall two inches will collapse the entire building."
Cole laughed quietly on the other end.
"I'd pay to watch you argue with engineers."
"You wouldn't," I said, smiling despite myself. "You hate conflict."
"That's because I leave that job to you."
"How's Mom?" I asked.
"She's fine. Still spoiling Alex every chance she gets."
The mention of my nephew made me smile again.
"He deserves it."
"He definitely thinks so," Cole replied. Then his tone shifted slightly. "When are you coming back?"
"Tonight," I said.
"That soon?"
"Yeah. The project finished earlier than expected."
That wasn't entirely true, but it was close enough.
"Victor must be happy about that," Cole said.
I didn't answer right away.
"Clara?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted finally.
"You two are still doing the quiet marriage thing?" Cole asked carefully.
"That's one way to describe it."
My brother had never been particularly fond of Victor. Not because Victor had done anything terrible, but because he had never done much of anything at all.
Cole believed marriages should be loud and emotional and messy sometimes. Victor believed they should be controlled and private. Somewhere in the middle was me.
"Did you talk to him recently?" Cole asked.
"Not really."
"Clara."
The way he said my name made me sigh. I didn't want to talk too much so I laughed softly and ended the call a minute later then went back to the hotel.
*****
By evening everything was packed and ready. I checked out, thanked the receptionist who had become familiar with my late-night coffee requests, and headed for the airport. For the first time all day, the nervous excitement returned. In less than a day, I would see Victor.
I imagined walking into our house, telling him about the baby, watching the surprise appear on his normally controlled face and maybe things would change after that.
The airport was crowded but efficient. Within an hour I had checked my bags and passed through security. I was sitting near the gate when my phone buzzed again. This time it was an email from the airline that I opened quickly. The words on the screen made my stomach drop.
Flight Cancelled.
I read the message twice, hoping I had misunderstood it.
Due to unexpected operational issues, the flight to Boston had been cancelled. Passengers were advised to rebook at the service desk. A long line had already formed near the counter. I stood slowly, my excitement fading into frustration. Another delay, another day before I could go home. I joined the line and waited.
By the time I finally reached the desk, the woman behind the counter looked exhausted.
"I'm sorry," she said automatically before I even spoke. "The next available flight to Creston City is in three days."
"Three days?" I repeated.
"I'm afraid so."
That wasn't possible.
"I need to be there sooner."
"I understand, but all connecting flights are currently full."
I stared at her, trying to process the words. Three days were a lot. Three more days of waiting and not hearing anything from Victor.
"Fine," I said quietly after a moment. "Book it."
She typed quickly on her computer and handed me the new boarding information. I took the paper without looking at it. As I walked back through the airport toward the exit, I began to develop a strange feeling about the situation on the ground. One delay could be a coincidence but this felt… different. Almost like someone was making sure I stayed exactly where I was but I shook the thought away immediately because it was just a ridiculous thought.
Things just happened sometimes. Flights do get cancelled and meetings get scheduled at inconvenient times. Life didn't revolve around my travel plans.
Still, as I stepped outside, I pulled out my phone again and tried calling Victor. The call went straight to voicemail then I lowered the phone slowly.
"Victor," I murmured to the empty street, "what is going on?"
*****
VICTOR'S POV
A few days ago, I woke up and the first thing I remembered was the light and it was too bright.
Initially, thought I was outside somewhere, but when my eyes finally adjusted I realized I was staring at a white ceiling. The smell of antiseptic came next and then I realized that I was in a hospital.
My head felt heavy, like someone had filled it with sand. I tried to move and immediately regretted it. Pain shot across the side of my skull and down the back of my neck. A quiet machine beeped somewhere to my left. Footsteps followed.
"Oh Mr. Hale, you're awake."
I turned my head slightly and saw a nurse approaching the bed. She looked relieved.
"Can you hear me?" she asked.
"Yes," I managed. My voice sounded rough, like I hadn't used it in days.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been hit by a truck."
The nurse smiled sympathetically.
"That's not far from the truth. You were in a car accident."
Car accident? I tried to remember it. The road, the car, anything but nothing came.
"Do you know your name?" the nurse asked gently.
That one was easy.
"Victor Hale."
"Good," she said, making a quick note on the tablet in her hand. "And do you know where you are?"
"A hospital."
"In Creston City."
That sounded right.
I felt some fragments of memory. Business meetings, office buildings, the skyline outside a window. Pieces of a life I recognized but couldn't fully see.
The nurse studied me carefully before asking the next question.
"Do you remember what happened before the accident?"
I opened my mouth to answer. Then stopped.
The space where the memory should have been felt completely blank.
"No," I said slowly.
"That's alright," she replied quickly. "Memory gaps are common with head injuries. The doctor will explain everything shortly."
She hesitated for a moment before adding, "There's someone here who has been waiting for you to wake up."
Before I could respond, the door opened and a woman stepped into the room. She was striking enough that most people would notice her immediately. Dark hair pulled neatly over one shoulder, elegant posture, clothes that looked expensive without trying too hard. Her eyes met mine and for a second something inside my chest tightened.
Not recognition exactly. More like the faint echo of something familiar. She walked closer to the bed slowly, as if she were afraid of startling me.
"Victor," she said softly.
The way she said my name suggested history. I searched my memory again, hoping her face would unlock something but it didn't.
"Do I know you?" I asked.
A flicker of something passed through her expression so quickly I almost missed it. Then she smiled.
"Yes," she said gently. "You do."
She reached the side of the bed and took my hand.
"I'm Adriana," she continued.
The name didn't trigger anything either.
"I'm your wife."