One

~Hospital~

 Emma had been sitting outside the operating theatre for nearly four hours, but time had long since lost its meaning. The digital clock mounted on the white wall continued to tick forward, indifferent to the storm tearing through her chest.

 Her fingers tightened around the silver wedding band hanging from the chain around her neck. She had slipped it off hours earlier when she kept twisting it so hard it left angry marks on her finger.

 Across the hallway, Noah's mother sat silently, her face buried in a handkerchief. His younger sister paced from one end of the corridor to the other, stopping every few minutes to glance anxiously at the doors marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

 No one spoke.

 There was nothing left to say.

 Emma lowered her head and stared at the blood drying beneath her fingernails. It wasn't hers.

 When the police officer had called earlier that afternoon, she had been halfway through tasting the pasta sauce simmering in their kitchen. Noah had promised he would leave the office early for once. It was their third wedding anniversary.

 The candlelit dinner still sat on their dining table.

 The flowers she'd bought that morning were probably beginning to wilt.

 Instead of celebrating together, she had found herself kneeling beside the mangled remains of Noah's black sedan while paramedics fought to pull him from the wreckage. His forehead had been streaked with blood. His expensive suit was torn beyond recognition.

 She could still hear the shrill scream that had escaped her own throat when his hand went limp in hers.

 The sound haunted her more than the ambulance sirens.

 The operating theatre doors finally swung open.

 Emma shot to her feet so quickly the chair behind her scraped across the polished floor.

 A surgeon stepped into the corridor, removing his surgical cap with a tired sigh.

 Everyone rushed toward him.

 "Doctor?" Noah's mother asked, her trembling voice barely audible.

 The surgeon looked around before settling his gaze on Emma.

 "Who is Mrs. Noah Carter?"

 Emma swallowed.

 "I am."

 "We managed to stop the internal bleeding. His vital signs are stable now."

 Relief crashed into her so suddenly that her knees almost gave out.

 "He..." she whispered, struggling to steady her voice. "He's going to live?"

 "Yes."

 The single word loosened the knot around her heart.

 For the first time since the accident, she inhaled without feeling as though broken glass were lodged in her lungs.

 But the doctor's expression remained grave.

 "There was significant trauma to his head," he continued. "The next twenty-four hours are critical. We won't know the full extent of the neurological damage until he regains consciousness."

 The relief inside Emma faltered.

 "What does that mean?"

 "It means we wait."

 Waiting. That was all anyone seemed able to tell her.

 Wait. Hope. Pray.

 Emma had never considered herself particularly religious, yet she found herself whispering silent prayers every few minutes. Promises she wasn't sure she could keep if only Noah opened his eyes again.

 She didn't care if he couldn't work for months.

 She didn't care if the company suffered losses.

 She didn't care if their anniversary dinner stayed untouched forever.

 She only wanted him alive.

 Hours slipped by.

 The hospital grew quieter as visiting hours ended.

 A nurse brought coffee no one drank.

 Another adjusted the blankets draped over Noah's mother.

 Emma remained closest to the intensive care unit doors, unable to convince herself to sit.

 Around midnight, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor.

 A young doctor emerged from the ICU.

 "Mrs. Carter?"

 Emma's heart lurched.

 "Yes?"

 "Your husband is waking up."

 For one suspended second, the world seemed to stop.

 Then everything moved at once.

 Emma hurried after the doctor, barely aware of Noah's family following behind her.

 Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stepped into the softly lit intensive care room.

 Machines hummed steadily beside the bed.

 Clear tubes disappeared beneath crisp white sheets.

 A bandage wrapped around Noah's forehead.

 His skin had lost its usual healthy color, but his chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths.

 Then...

 His eyelids fluttered.

 Emma's eyes filled before she could stop them.

 She moved to his bedside carefully, afraid that even breathing too loudly might shatter the fragile miracle unfolding before her.

 "Noah..."

 His eyes opened. Clouded at first. Searching and trying to focus.

 For one brief heartbeat, she thought everything would be all right.

 She reached for his hand.

 "My love..."

 His gaze settled on her face.

 There was no warmth in his eyes. Only confusion.

 His fingers slipped from hers instead of tightening around them.

 His brows knitted together.

 He studied her as though trying to place a stranger he'd seen somewhere before.

 When he finally spoke, his voice came out rough from the breathing tube that had only recently been removed.

 "...Who are you?"