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My Precocious Triplets Brought me a Husband For Christmas 039
The early mornings ran into a pale light that shone through narrow blinds. Martins had ceased to keep track of the hours, the days, the months; they had blurred together in the tiny, alienating hospital room that had come to be his prison and his sanctuary. He wakes to physical therapy, to pain, to the muted drone of machines he no longer recognizes, and the unfamiliar rhythm of a language he is only half able to understand.“Lift,” a voice commanded, and he complied, muscles protesting. “Again,” and he kept on pushing with every repetition he realized he was still here, still living, and against each move the next felt heavier and heavier.The image he saw in the tiny mirror was that of an alien. Burns scarred his forearms, and his ribs remain bruised under taut skin, hair grown out, stubbled. The hospital had given him a provisional name, made up of papers that misspelled his real one, passports that weren’t his.Every time he looks in the mirror, he is reminded of the man the world
My Precocious Triplets Brought me a Husband For Christmas 038
In a cramped hospital room, the television popped: it was on a rolling cart, high enough off the floor that Martins could see it with just a slight turn of his head. The nurse adjusting the monitors had quietly left it behind, providing him with a faint feeling of companionship and the gentle, mechanical drone of machines.A well-known announcer’s voice pierced the silence like a knife.“…tragic plane crash this morning near the coast... Initial reports indicate there are many dead. Emergency workers are still there. Families are being notified…”Sleepy and pained, Martins’ blurry eyes locked on to the screen. He saw the images first: crushed cars, the charred remnants of a fuselage nestled against a foggy-gray ocean spray, rescuers extracting bodies, a few that were barely identifiable. The tape rolled with savage regularity, unmoved by the reports of death and injury.“…among the dead confirmed is our colleague, Martins Hogwarts, passenger on Flight 917,” the anchor read. "He has b
My Precocious Triplets Brought me a Husband For Christmas 037
Anger was the first thing that told him something was wrong.It was the language.Through the haze of his awareness, voices came and went , soft, competent, undulating in a rhythm he couldn’t quite place. The words went right past him, normal sounding, but different looking, like his mind was seeing the outlines of language but it couldn’t make out what they were saying.Martins lay still, eyes closed, listening.The noise was still there. Slowing down now. More steady. A machine, something critical, and it wouldn’t stop reminding him. Underneath that, the rustling of clothes, footsteps, a trolley wheel squeaking.And the voices.Not English.Not fully.His mind sought for an answer, but found none.He opened his eyes. Light was coming in through a small window up on one of the walls, pale and gray, as if it were morning, or possibly just daylight obscured by clouds. The ceiling over him was different thicker, lower, crisscrossed with faint hairline cracks that hinted at age. This wa
My Precocious Triplets Brought me a Husband For Christmas 036
Sound came first.Not a single sound, not a clean one but layers crashing atop one another, they were jagged, overlapping, indistinct. A shriek of metal coming apart at the seams. A low, bone-rattling thump. Then something else beneath it all, constant and numbingly endless.Water.It bellowed like a living thing, devouring everything else.Martins didn’t know his name then. He didn’t know where he was or why his body felt so wrong... so heavy, so light, as if suspended and crushed all at once. Consciousness sputtered like a faulty bulb, flashing in and out in agonizing intervals.Noise.Then pressure.Then silence, so profound it was like dying, really dying.His eyes fluttered open.Darkness. Not the fluffy type. The kind that squeezed.Something slammed into his shoulder. Pain flared, sharp enough to tear a sound from his throat, though he couldn’t hear it over the scream of everything else. His head snapped forward, then back, vision exploding into white.The plane was no longer a
My Precocious Triplets Brought me a Husband For Christmas 035
The house had never been this quiet.Not the peaceful aftermath of laughter, or the rest that children mustered when asleep. This was different, thin, stretched, as if silence itself were taking a breath.Stephanie was alone in the living room, the lights low enough to blur the lines of everything she knew. Peter had gone upstairs ahead of them, finally overtaken by exhaustion after days of celebration, adjustment, joy layered with routine. He’d kissed her temple, whispered something about an early morning, and was gone down the hallway, unaware of the stir within her.She hadn’t followed.Instead, she just sat on the couch, her legs folded beneath her, her hands clasping a mug she hadn’t drunk from in several minutes.Opposite her, tucked beneath the family photos on the console table, was the wedding frame.She hadn't intended to put it there. It had only come to rest in her line of vision, like the house wanted it viewed.That image was very pretty.Indubitably so. Sunlight had ca
My Precocious Triplets Brought me a Husband For Christmas 034
Stephanie could tell the first thing that was off: how her office felt so quiet when she showed up.Not serene, but quiet as a room becomes when sound has just exited it. As if someone had been uttering something right before she walked through the door, and the walls were still debating on whether to hold onto the secret.She stopped on the threshold, fingers still clutching the knob, listening.Nothing.The city hummed softly through the glass. Traffic. Voices. Life moving along, a safe, disinterested distance.She went in and closed the door behind her.Last night hung on her in pieces. Peter’s arm around her waist, the solid reassurance of his presence, the way she’d promised, honestly, that she’d tell him if something was wrong. She had meant it.She still did.But as she’d come to know over years of litigation, truth was seldom a single thing in truth. It came in stages. Sometimes it had to be handled before it could be shared. Stephanie set down her bag and booted up her compu
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