I gently touch her shoulder, trying not to inflict pressure, even though all I want to do is hold her close and make us both forget this morning ever happened.

She flinches, and for the first time, I see the current of uncertainty in her eyes. I’ve never witnessed such emotions in them before, like they’re fire in the ocean. No matter how much it whirls and embraces the wind, it’ll eventually be drowned.

“Why are you touching me? Who are you?”

“My name is Kyle. I’m your husband.”

She shakes her head the slightest bit. It seems like she wants to do it more, but the soft neck brace stops her. “I don’t know you, and you certainly aren’t my husband.”

I tighten my hold on her shoulder to feel her warmth as I smooth my voice. “It’s me, Rai.”

I maintain eye contact because I need the connection I’ve always had with Rai right now. She may change and gather her hair up to be the woman the world demands of her, but when I stare deep in her eyes, I see the burn for more, the flames that rise with the need of passion.

Not today.

Today, the connection is off, as if the fire and the flames were drowned by the sea. Her pupils are dilated and she’s stiff as a board in my arms.

It’s like she doesn’t know me at all. As if she’s being touched by a complete stranger.

“Let me go.” There’s a note of fear in her voice.

My fingers dig into her shoulder, perhaps not too gently because of the current of emotions traveling through me right now, but I try to speak as calmly as possible. “Rai, you might be confused, but I’m really your husband.”

“Let me go!” she screams. “Help! He wants to hurt me. Someone help me!”

The fuck? “I would never hurt you.”

The doctor and the nurse barge inside, but remain close to the door when I glare them both down. Ruslan and Katia join, too, their eyes studying Rai intently.

“Help me.” She tries to wiggle free, but I don’t allow her room to move.

“Stop asking for others to help you from me,” I snap, my temper getting the better of me. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

She flinches, but her lips thin in a line.

“You can’t talk to a patient like that,” the doctor scolds.

“Fuck off. You don’t get to tell me how I speak to my wife.”

“H-help me,” Rai whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please help me, please.”

This is not the Rai I know. She would never plead with others, let alone allow them to see her cry.

“Do you need anything, miss?” Ruslan’s unsure gaze slides to me, then back to her.

“Who are all these people?” She stares between the three of us, and then back to her guard as if he is her only reprieve. “Ruslan?”

“Yes, miss?”

She sucks in a deep breath like a child about to throw a tantrum, then exhales again. Her voice turns hysterical. “Get them out of here! Get them all out!”

“Miss.” The doctor approaches her slowly. “You need to calm down.”

He tries to touch her, but I grab his wrist and twist it backward, making him wince in pain.

That causes Rai to scream louder. “Get out! Get out!”

“Sir.” The doctor strains, but he’s smart enough not to fight me, so I let him go. If he tries something funny, I’ll break his fucking wrist. “It’s better if you leave.”

“No.”

“If you don’t, she might have a panic attack.”

“Fuck that. She’s my wife and I’m not leaving her side.”

“Sir, it’s not in her best interest for you to keep staying here.”

“Out…out…” Her shaking has worsened and her lips are too pale. She’s not the type who has these strong visceral reactions, and yet she appears on the verge of a breakdown. I can’t be the reason behind that.

Even though there’s nothing I want to do more than hold on to her, I need to let her go. Just for a while.

It takes all my power to release her, stand up, and step back.

She continues watching me even when I’m far away from her bed, and I motion at Ruslan and Katia to leave with me.

“Ruslan…” she calls. “S-stay.”

“Yes, miss.”

Why the fuck is she calling for him but not me? Even Katia appears taken aback, but she steps outside with me.

The doctor and the nurse remain beside Rai, talking to her in soothing tones. Judging from the slowing rise and fall of her chest, that seems to have managed to somewhat calm her down.

I keep watching from the doorway, unable to look away. She appears so soft, fragile, and all I want to do is to hold her hand and protect her.

The nurse keeps talking to her while the doctor steps outside. I grab him by the collar and slam him against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”

“Sir, if you don’t release me, I can’t speak.”

I push him away with a shove. “Talk.”

He massages the back of his neck and fixes his collar. “Mrs. Sokolov seems to be suffering from selective amnesia.”

“Because she fell?”

“Yes, we believe the fall has caused some swelling in her brain and that’s why she has amnesia.”

“You said selective—does that mean she’ll regain her memories soon?”

“No, selective means she lost part of her memories.”

“What part?”

“From the initial questions we asked, she seems to have forgotten everything that happened for the past ten years.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Sokolov believes she’s eighteen years old. As a result, she doesn’t remember the events that happened in the past ten years. That applies to people she met in that period, too.”

I didn’t know her ten years ago. No wonder she thought I was a stranger.

“How can she get her memories back?”

“Unfortunately, there’s no cure for amnesia. Fortunately, it’s not completely irrevocable. If she’s surrounded by supportive family and friends, she might be able to recall things.” I don’t miss the way he stressed the part about being supportive. This fucker is exactly two seconds away from being throttled to death.

“How long will it take for her to remember?”