The Second Time Around

Chapter One

The world came back in pieces.

At first, it was just the hum. A low, constant buzzing that filled her head. It was persistent, growing louder the more she tried to pull herself from the thick, heavy fog that surrounded her. Her eyelids felt glued shut, and her body felt like it didn't belong to her—numb and distant, like it was floating somewhere far away.

Then came the light, sharp and too bright, piercing through her closed eyelids. She flinched, her fingers twitching involuntarily, trying to retreat from the harshness of it.

Slowly, she forced her eyes open, squinting against the sterile white light that seemed to flood everything around her. Her breath caught in her throat as unfamiliar sights met her. White walls. The steady beeping of a machine. The faint smell of antiseptic.

Where am I?

Her throat was dry, each breath scratchy and uneven as she tried to focus. She blinked again, trying to bring the blurry shapes into something that made sense. The cold, stiff sheets against her skin felt strange, too clean. Her heart began to race as the reality of her surroundings started to sink in.

A hospital.

Why was she in a hospital?

Her thoughts were scattered, memories tangled in a haze that wouldn't clear. She remembered rain, the car, but everything after that was just...blank. Panic crept up her spine, making her fingers twitch again. She tried to push herself up, but her body felt heavy, uncooperative.

"Abby?"

The voice was soft, hoarse, like it had been worn thin by worry. It came from her side, where a shadow moved closer to her. She turned her head slowly, her eyes struggling to focus on the figure. A man.

He looked tired, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn't slept in days. His face was etched with concern, his lips pressed into a thin line, like he was holding back a flood of emotions. She could see it—his overwhelming relief, the way his shoulders sagged as though a weight had been lifted.

He looked at her like he knew her. But she didn't know him.

"Abby... thank God," he breathed, reaching out for her hand.

She jerked back instinctively, her heart hammering in her chest. His touch felt warm, familiar even, but everything else about him was foreign. His face, his voice, the way he looked at her—it was all too much, too close.

"I... I don't..." she stammered, her throat raw. "Who are you?"

The man froze, his hand hovering between them as if suspended in disbelief. His eyes widened, the look of relief on his face draining away in an instant, replaced with something far more painful.

"Abby," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It's me... Drew. I'm your husband."

Husband?

The word sent a jolt through her, like it didn't belong to her. She stared at him, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of his words. Husband. It echoed in her head, but it didn't fit—nothing fit.

She pulled her hand farther away, folding it close to her chest like she needed to protect herself from him.

"I—I don't know you," she said, the words spilling out before she could stop them. Her heart raced, confusion tightening in her throat. "Why are you calling yourself my husband?"

Drew's face crumpled, his mouth opening and closing as if he were searching for the right thing to say. His hand dropped to his side, and the raw, unguarded pain that flickered across his features made her stomach twist. She hated it, hated seeing someone look at her like that—like she was breaking them.