Ch-53

•~•Solane’s POV

I stared at him—lying unconscious on the couch.

My heart was pounding, my thoughts racing, refusing to settle on anything solid.

Nathaniel... he had left this house in a wheelchair this morning. I watched him go. So how the hell was he suddenly able to walk?

I do believe in miracles—I survived a deadly fall, after all. So, I believe certain things are possible. But not like this. Not in a magical, impossible sort of way.

My eyes swept over his body, his face, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He looked... pale. Like someone who hadn’t seen sunlight in days—or weeks.

He also looked thinner. There was a hollowness to his face that hadn’t been there before. His jaw wasn’t as sharp. His lips were cracked. His hands looked fragile.

This didn’t make any sense. He looked stronger this morning—lean, but with muscle and healthy weight.

So why did he look so frail now? And why the hell had he called me Irene before passing out?

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, unsure whether I should call a hospital. 

I mean, he had passed out right in front of me. What if something was seriously wrong with him? Dragging him onto the couch and leaving him like this—was that even okay?

I took a shaky step closer and crouched beside him. I grabbed a throw pillow and slipped it under his head, my chest tightening with uncertainty.

Then, as if on cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I stood up, reached into my pocket, and pulled it out.

Nathaniel. The caller ID flashed across the screen.

My breath caught.

I looked at the man unconscious on my couch.

Then back at the phone.

How was Nathaniel calling me when he was right in front of my eyes? What kind of deja vu was this? 

No, déjà vu wasn’t the right word for this… It felt more like black magic. Because what the hell was going on right now?

I hesitated for a moment longer before answering the call, slowly raising the phone to my ear.

“Who... is this?” I stuttered.

“It’s Nathaniel. Didn’t you check who was calling before you picked up?” came the voice, a hint of confusion in it.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. That was definitely Nathaniel’s voice. I’d recognize it anywhere.

I shifted my gaze back to the couch. If the person speaking to me on the phone was Nathaniel, then who the hell was this man lying unconscious here?

“Solane!”

I flinched as Nathaniel’s voice snapped me out of my spinning thoughts.

“Yes?” I replied quickly, though my voice came out small, unsure.

“You weren’t responding… Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m… at home,” I said slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Okay, I’m coming to get you,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Something? What is it?” I asked, heart skipping.

Does he somehow know about the man who just showed up—his exact look alike? 

He sounded tense, so maybe that was what he wanted to talk about.

"I’ll explain when we get to where I’m taking you," he said, his voice now softer.

“Okay,” I murmured, still dazed. “I’ll be waiting.”

The call ended. I let the phone drop onto the couch and turned back to the man in front of me.

Right then, he stirred. A low groan escaped his lips.

“Oh, my fucking head…” he muttered, clutching his temple as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. His movements were sluggish, unsteady.

Then his gaze met mine—and a frown creased his face. In his green eyes, I saw confusion… then a flicker of irritation.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

His voice was identical to Nathaniel’s. Same tone, same rhythm.

But the way he spoke… it was different. And somehow, disturbingly familiar.

Like someone I’d known before.

I narrowed my eyes.

“I should be the one asking that,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant. “Who are you—and why do you look exactly like my husband?”

His frown deepened.

“Your husband?” he echoed, like the word didn’t register. “Who’s your husband?”

“Nathaniel Grant,” I replied. “He’s my husband.”