CHAPTER 2

The gates of the Romano estate parted like the jaws to a dark underworld kingdom, cold and commanding. Lionel stared out of the tinted car window, heart beating with a mix of dread and confusion, the sprawling mansion that rose beyond the hedges looked like it belonged to someone else, for all he knew, which was practically nothing, maybe it did.

"Home", Elora said beside him. Her voice was smooth, rich, too steady for someone whose husband had just woken up from a coma.

Lionel glanced at her. She had the same unreadable expression, same impossibly elegant posture, her hands were folded in her lap, gloved in black. She hadn't touched him since the ride from the hospital, but her presence passed against him all the same, cool and controlled like the air conditioning.

Elora could feel Lionel's gaze on her but she didn't look back at him for a while, she kept her gaze out the window, on the house. Being back here felt so strange, it felt familiar and at the same time not, it felt like she was walking into a prison of her own volition but it was necessary. She looked over at Lionel, who was still staring at her, a necessary means to her mind. She smiled lightly at him.

"Do you remember it?", she asked him.

"No", he admitted. "Should I?"

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile.

"In time..."

They drove up the private circular driveway, a line of uniformed staff waited at the front entrance. The chauffeur got down, ran around and opened the door for them. Lionel stepped out slowly, cautiously. He looked at the people who lined the entrance, Lionel hated the stares, they were too curious, too cautious. They bowed their heads as he passed, as if he were still the king of his empire but he didn't feel like a king, he felt like a ghost wearing another man's name. Elora led him through the grand double doors. The inside was like a museum: marble floors, crystal chandeliers, glass walls that opened to gardens and still water pools, too perfect, too cold.

One of the maids huddled up to them.

"Did you prepare the master bedroom?", Elora asked her.

"Yes ma'am", she answered.

"I also had the guest wing prepared ma'am", she said softly.

"No need", Elora replied. "He'll stay in our room, the master bedroom, I'll be taking care of him"

The maid looked shocked and taken aback. She stuttered, "I was talking about... for you ma'am, wouldn't you want to stay in-"

Lionel raised an eyebrow.

"That would be all", Elora said quickly, cutting the maid off.

"We would be staying in the same room, our room", she added, raising her voice slightly so it carried across the room but wasn't too loud.

Lionel glanced at her but said nothing, our room?

She walked him up the stairs, step by step, never offering her hand but never faltering far from him. When they reached the master suite, she pushed open the door and they stepped in, Lionel more hesitantly than her. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and lavender. The bed was massive, the sheets crisp and clean, two sets of pillows, two bathrobes, one for Elora, he was sure but the second might have well been for a ghost.

Lionel sat on the edge of the bed, wincing as his ribs flared. Elora crossed to the walk in closet and returned with some soft lounge clothes.

"Change into these, I'll run a bath for you", she said and left without giving Lionel a chance to say anything in response.

He watched her disappear through the bathroom door, there was no hesitation to her movements, no awkwardness, she belonged here, she knew this place, she knew him. So why didn’t he know her?

The bathwater ran in the distance. Lionel stared at the clothes in his lap, then stood slowly and followed her into the bathroom. Steam curled around Elora’s figure as she knelt by the sunken tub, testing the temperature. Her blouse clung to her back, sheer at the shoulders, revealing smooth skin and the delicate curve of her spine. She didn’t turn as he approached. He watched her for a few seconds before he spoke.

"You could've called a nurse", he said.

"You don't need a nurse", she dipped her fingers in the water. "You need familiarity, something to anchor you"

"You are that something?", he asked.

She turned then, finally meeting his eyes.

"I'm your wife"

The words rolled off her tongue too easily. Lionel moved to the edge of the tub and looked down at the water. It was exactly how he liked it, he knew that much, somehow, warm with just a hint of eucalyptus oil.

"They said my brakes failed", he murmured.

Her lashes fluttered.

"That's what the police said", she responded matter of factly.

"But I don't remember driving or why I was out that night or who I was with"

Elora stood slowly. She was close now, closer than she’d been in the car, close enough for him to feel the energy in her body. It wasn't warmth, it wasn't cold either, it was something in between, something electric.

"Memories come in fragments", she said. "You’ll remember in time. Until then, let your body remember"

She reached for the hem of his shirt but Lionel caught her wrist, "I can undress myself"

Her mouth quivered again, maybe amusement, maybe something else.

"As you wish", she said.

She stepped back, folding a towel on the counter. Her reflection in the mirror caught his attention, dark eyes, full mouth and a faint scar just under her chin. He tried to picture her smiling, laughing, screaming.

Flashes lit behind his eyes. A flash of headlights, rain, a scream, her scream?

"Lionel?", her voice pulled him out of the fog.

"Huh?"

"The bath’s ready", she told him.

He nodded, undressed, and slipped into the water, muscles he didn’t realize were tight began to unwind. She sat on a nearby stool, crossing her legs. Her gaze slid to his shoulders, his chest, the faint scar on his left side, his eyes followed hers.

"What happened there?", he asked.

"You took a bullet once", she said without blinking.

"A business deal gone wrong, you protected me", she continued.

Lionel searched her face for any sign of falsity. But she was composed, too composed, like it was a story she had practiced a hundred times in the mirror.

"Did I always protect you?", he asked.

Her silence was answer enough.

~~

That night, they shared the same room.

Lionel was already in bed when she entered, wearing a silk robe that grazed her knees. Her hair was out of its sleek knot now, falling around her shoulders in dark waves. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she slid beneath the sheets beside him. She faced away, her body rigid, her hands tucked under her chin like a statue.

He didn’t touch her, didn’t know if he should, didn’t know if he ever had.

Hours later, he was still awake, moonlight spilled across the room. The only sound was her slow, measured breathing beside him, he turned onto his side.

"Elora", he whispered.

She didn’t move. He reached out, brushing her hair away from her neck. Her skin was soft, warm and she flinched. That, more than anything, shook him.

"I want to remember", he said, his voice raw. "Everything, even how I touched you..."

His fingers hovered over her skin.

"Tell me, Elora, was I ever good to you?”