When I opened my eyes, everything around me was unfamiliar. The cold hospital walls, the beeping monitors, the tubes in my arms—it all felt like a blur. Then, I heard his voice. “Mary? Mary, can you hear me?” Damian’s face came into view, his red eyes brimming with tears. He held my hand tightly, as if afraid I might disappear.
“You’ve been in a coma,” he said, his voice shaky. “For almost six months. There was an accident. The doctors didn’t think you’d wake up.”
I tried to speak, but my throat burned painfully. “Zoe… where’s Zoe?”
“She’s fine,” he reassured me quickly. “She’s with your mom. She’ll be here tomorrow.”
Though his words offered comfort, a feeling of panic lingered. I couldn’t recall anything about the crash, just an empty space where those memories should be.
Two weeks later, back home, I watched Zoe play with her toys, her laughter filling the room. I smiled, trying to act as if everything was fine, but deep down, I was unsettled by the void in my memory.
Damian was always there, caring and attentive, never leaving my side. To the outside world, he was the perfect husband. But every now and then, when he thought I wasn’t looking, there was a flicker in his eyes—something that looked like sadness or guilt, and it made me uneasy.
One evening, while preparing his favorite dinner, I accidentally cut my finger. The sharp pain shocked me, but it wasn’t just the injury that hurt. As the blood dripped and the bowl fell to the floor, something in my mind snapped back into place.
Memories flooded back—clear, painful, and unmistakable.
We were in the car. Damian was angry. His jaw was tight, and his voice was cold. “I’ve met someone else,” he said. “Her name is Blake. It’s been going on for almost a year.”
Tears streamed down my face as I begged him to stop. “You’re taking Zoe from me?”
“You can’t keep her,” he responded, his tone harsh. “Who are you without me?”
I screamed at him to pull over, but he didn’t. Then, there were headlights, the screech of metal, the sound of shattering glass, pain, and finally—nothing.
I snapped back to the present, gasping for air. The memory was so vivid, so raw. My hands shook as I cleaned up the mess on the floor. When Damian got home, I was waiting for him in the kitchen, the lights dimmed and the silence thick.
He asked what was wrong. I told him I remembered everything.
At first, he denied it, then he broke down. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I ended it with her. I stayed by your side after the crash.”
“And before that?” I asked. “You were ready to destroy everything.”
He cried, begged for forgiveness, said he had changed. He claimed the accident made him realize how much he almost lost.
I didn’t know what to believe.
The next morning, Zoe came home. Her innocent eyes studied our faces. “Are you and Daddy sad?” she asked.
Damian knelt beside her. “We’re working through some tough stuff. But we both love you very much.”
She turned to me. “Promise?”
I pulled her into my arms. “Always.”
Over her head, Damian and I exchanged a glance. Yes, there was pain, but there was also the smallest spark of hope.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I said.
“One day at a time,” he whispered.
And for now, that was all I could offer.
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