Are You Always This Shy, Wife?

I had waited three years for him to look at me like this, and now that he was, I didn't know where to stand.

SELENE 

Three years. Three long years of silence, cold shoulders, and feeling invisible. And now... he was looking at me. Speaking my name. Selene. It rolled off his lips like a spell, shattering the walls I had built around my heart.

  But a question burned hotter than relief or joy: Does he remember everything... or just my face?

  "How on earth does he remember her and not us?" Nora snapped, pointing at me.

   Sebastian's eyes shifted from mine to his sister. "Who... are you?"

  Nora scoffed, stepping back, her confidence faltering for the first time.

   "Look at me, Sebastian." Mrs. Kingsley said gently, taking hold of his arms. "I'm your mother."

   "My... mother?" He echoed, confusion clouding his features.

  "Yes!" She exclaimed, a mix of hope and fear in her voice. "Don't you remember me?"

  Sebastian furrowed his brows and shook his head slowly.

  The doctor stepped forward. "Let's give him some time. He just woke up and needs rest. Why don't we all go to my office for now?"

  We began to move toward the door, but then Sebastian's voice stopped me cold.

   "Selene." He called again, slower this time, like he was tasting the name on his lips, memorizing it.

  I pause, my heart hammering, stunned by the simple weight of my name from his mouth.

   "She'll be back." Mr. Kingsley said gently, his hand resting on my shoulder. We followed the doctor out, but I couldn't take my eyes off Sebastian as he lay there, his gaze still searching for me.

  When we reached the doctor's office, he gestured for us to sit and spread out a series of papers and charts on the desk.

  "Here are the results of the tests we conducted on Mr. Kingsley." He began. "As you can see, he has suffered a form of memory loss called retrograde amnesia. He may not remember certain events leading up to the accident, or even people he knows intimately. This is not uncommon after severe head trauma."

  Mrs. Kingsley's eyes flicked toward me, wide with concern. "But... how come he remembers her?" She asked, her voice trembling. I swallowed hard, feeling the same question churn in my chest. Why was it only me?

   The doctor gave a small, reassuring smile. "Sometimes a patient only responds to one familiar presence." He explained. "For now, let that person interact with him. The others should step back to avoid causing confusion."

   "We... we should step back?" Nora asked, incredulous.

   The doctor nodded. "Yes. Too many people at once can overwhelm him. It's important he feels safe and calm."

  Mr. Kingsley leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. "So... what do we do to help him regain his memory?"

  The doctor's eyes met ours, steady but grave. "Time, patience, and familiar routines. He needs consistency, not pressure. Memories will return gradually, if at all."

  He leaned forward slightly. "One thing you must not do is try to force him to remember." He warned. "Pressure or frustration can make the confusion worse."

   After a series of questions and explanations, we finally stepped out of the doctor's office, the hallway feeling suddenly quieter, almost too heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

   "I can't believe all this is happening." Mrs. Kingsley murmured, leaning against her husband for support.

  Honestly... I could have said the same.

   "Let's return home." Julian said, turning to his father.

   "That’s right." Mr. Kingsley nodded. "You heard the doctor. We need to step back and give him some alone time with his wife."

   My eyes widened at the words alone time.

  All of their gazes shifted toward me.

   "I hate to say this," Nora said, folding her arms, her voice tinged with something between resignation and irritation, "but I’m trusting you to take care of my brother."

  Julian smiled at me, reassuring yet expectant. "Of course she will. She's his wife, after all."

   I forced a small, almost fake smile, feeling the tight knot of nerves in my stomach. Everything that had happened this morning—the accident, his confusion, the questions, the doctor’s warnings—was strange and overwhelming. And now... being alone with Sebastian? I wasn't ready. Not yet.

  "What are you still doing here?" Mrs. Kingsley said gently. "Go to your husband. He must be waiting for you."

   "Ah... okay." I mumbled, forcing my feet to move toward Sebastian's ward.

   Suddenly, everyone expected me to play the role of a devoted wife. If only they knew that just hours ago, I had been ready to ask for a divorce. 

  I stopped in front of his door, my hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, I finally pushed it open.

  But Sebastian wasn't on the bed.

  Instead, I found his secretary, Vincent, seated beside it. He immediately stood up and gave a polite bow.

  "Where is he?" I asked, pointing at the empty bed.

  "He's taking a shower." Vincent replied, adjusting his glasses.

   "Is he even allowed to walk?" I muttered under my breath.

   Vincent picked up his suitcase from the floor. "Since you're here, I'll take my leave."

   "Wait." I said quickly. "Did he recognize you?"

  Vincent shook his head. "No. He didn't even listen to anything I had to say. He kept asking about his wife."

   "What?" The word slipped out before I could stop it.

  He offered me a polite smile before slipping out of the room. I moved closer to the bed, smoothing out the wrinkled sheets with trembling fingers, trying to busy myself with something to calm my nerves.

   The bathroom door creaked open.

   I looked up just as Sebastian stepped out, shirtless, a thin veil of steam following him. His hair was still damp, dark strands falling over his forehead, droplets trailing down his temples and across his bare chest.

  He stopped the moment his eyes met mine.

  For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

   I swallowed hard.

  I had never really seen him like this before, not like this, not when his gaze held mine so openly, so gently.

  A small smile curved his lips.

"Oh... you're here."

   Heat rushed to my cheeks. I quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in the bedsheet beneath my hands.

   "I... I was told to come." I muttered, twisting the fabric between my fingers.

    Silence followed.

  I frowned, wondering why he hadn't replied, and just as I was about to turn around—

  Warm breath brushed against my ear.

   I froze.

  My heart skipped violently as his presence settled behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.

  "Are you always this shy, wife?"

His voice was low, teasing.

  I sucked in a shaky breath.

 When did he get this close?