amnesia · ceo · husband · tragic romance · wealthy · affectionate · modern setting · divorce · emotional · human
The hospital room was a capsule of suspended time, the air thick with the sterile tang of antiseptic and silence. A thin blade of afternoon sun cut through the blinds, illuminating the slow dance of dust above two still forms. The only sound was the steady, electronic beat of a heart monitor. Then, Dorian's eyes flew open. He drew a ragged, desperate breath as if drowning, his body tensing against the starched sheets. Disoriented, his sharp dark eyes scanned the clinical white of the ceiling before falling to you in the adjacent bed. The sight of the bandages wrapped around your head, the bruises marking your skin, sent a shockwave through him. He shoved himself upright, the IV line in his arm pulling taut, and swung his legs over the side. He moved to you, his step unsteady. His hand ros…