Bound by Shadows

2

Days since regaining consciousness, Caelus answered questions about me. I'm Zanya Bianci, now Hudson, 28. He, 32. Born on February 27, 1995, married a year ago. He handed me documents validating my identity, yet the lone wedding picture lacked joy. As doubts surfaced, he explained, he wasn't a fan of getting his photo taken.

Curious about our meeting, he claimed it was through my brother, Zavian, currently en route from New York. He informed me that I resigned from my job after getting married. His own job details, however, remained elusive, accompanied by his cryptic promise, 'In due time, you'll know.'

Today, a groomed Caelus, clad in black, greeted me with a smile, presenting a bouquet of red roses. "Good morning, Zanya," he said, delicately placing the flowers on the table, then cupped my cheek and planted a tender kiss on my forehead, igniting butterflies in my stomach.

Responding, I said, "Good morning, Caelus," but as my gaze fell on the flowers, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within—hatred. "Appreciate the gesture, but could you put them away? There's something about them that unsettles me," I turned to his confused face, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, saying, "There's nothing you should apologize for. I'll dispose of them." He grabbed the roses, slid the door open, and instructed his somewhat silent bodyguard to discard them. Although we were never introduced, our eyes had met a few times, always accompanied by a firm nod of acknowledgment.

Closing the door behind him, Caelus asked, "What kind of flowers do you like? I'll get them for you next time," while unpacking food from the thermal bag that I had failed to notice earlier.

"I'm not sure, what kind of flowers do I usually like?"

He froze momentarily before unpacking, "I've never gotten you flowers before," he admitted. "At home, you usually have daffodils lying around. Would you like those instead?"

My eyebrows furrowed. He didn't know my favorite flower, and after a year of marriage, he hadn't once given me flowers? "Sure, daffodils are fine," I responded, a hint of skepticism in my voice. "Were we, by any chance, in an arranged marriage?"

He coughed abruptly, denying, "No! Absolutely not! What gives you that idea?"

Well, a lot. His replies consistently shrouded details whenever we revisited the topic of how we first met or when I asked about our favorite memories from our marriage. There was a sense that he didn't truly know me as a husband, but I brushed off the thought, granting him the benefit of the doubt.

Caelus took the time to personally prepare the porridge and feed me. As he handed over a water bottle with a straw, his piercing blue eyes studied my face. "I realize that we may have seemed..." he hesitated, selecting his words with care, "distant. Work kept me occupied before, and I neglected you. I'm truly sorry, and I promise to make it up to you, darling."

I smiled in response, "You're making it up to me now that you're here."

"It is not enough," he mumbles, cleaning up the over bed table and putting away the containers of my finished food.

Following the doctor's advice, we engaged in memory games before I drifted into a nap. Meanwhile, Caelus stepped outside to converse with Tadashi, the bodyguard whose name I had just discovered.

With my eyes shut, I couldn't ignore the escalating tension in my husband's voice. Opening them, I focused on the ceiling, attempting to recall forgotten details, yet nothing surfaced.

"Hey twerp," a voice interrupted my thoughts. I sat up, observing him. He was grinning, ear to ear, wearing a well fitted white T-shirt with black jeans. On his right hand, he held his flight jacket. "Miss me?"

From his light brown eyes, and similar brown hair to mine, I assumed, "Zavian?"

This time his smile softened as he nodded. He came closer looking at me head to toe. I momentarily forgot about my bandaged head, the purple bruise around my left eye, and the sling on my hand.

"Shit, you look horrible," he cursed, brows furrowed. "You could've avoided this if you just stayed with me. Yet you were stubborn enough to follow that prick wherever he went. He doesn't deserve you."

Prick? Is he talking about Caelus?

"That's enough shit talking," Just in time, Caelus walks in, Tadashi following behind him.

Zavian, on the verge of throwing a punch, locked eyes with Caelus. "I'm taking her with me as soon as she's discharged."

Caelus sighed, "Let's move this conversation outside."

"No, right here. In front of her," Zavian directed his chin towards me. "Isn't it strange? The day you were supposed to fly to New York, you were attacked?" He questioned, glancing at me and then back at my husband, who displayed remarkable patience amidst my brother's verbal confrontation.

Caelus had left out that detail – he never informed me about my departure for New York.

"I know what you're implying here, but I am not a wife beater," Caelus responded in a low voice.

"But you would hire someone to do the job, won't you?" Zavian retorted, advancing a step forward. "Just like how you order your little gang."

Tadashi stood firmly between the two, defusing the potential brawl, while I pressed my forehead, confusion intensifying as a dull ache emerged.

"Enough. I'm warning you," Tadashi, seemingly acquainted with my brother, cautioned.

"I'm taking her to New York," Zavian insisted.

"You're not taking my wife anywhere," Caelus seethed, clenching Zavian by the collar. Zavian smirked, his eyes challenging Caelus to act.

Fed up with the commotion, I questioned Zavian, "Why was I on the way to New York?"

Caelus released his grip, causing Zavian to stagger back while maintaining a hostile glare. "You don't remember?"

"How am I supposed to remember with memory loss?" I countered.

Zavian's eyebrows rose as he faced Caelus again, "You should have informed me about that, asshole."