Help Me Remember (COMPLETED)

Chapter 33 Part 1

This is written during my stolen time. You have no idea how much it hurts not to write. But when I do write, I then feel guilty about not studying in those hours. It's a paradox I'm in, I swear.

Chapter 33 Part 1

Lightning

When it started to rain, we were forced back inside the villa. The five of us decided to retire to our rooms for the time being. But what we hoped would be a short bout of drizzle was now a full outpour.

The wind was howling and slamming against the villa's structure as if in punishing rage. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls designed to frame the beautiful blue sea was now the live view of the chaotic storm outside—the monstrous gray waves slamming against the earlier peaceful shore, the dark thunderclouds covering the stars, the surrounding trees bending wildly with each mighty gust.

And here I was, sat on the canopied bed of our supposedly warmly-decorated room. My eyes were widely opened, watching all that. And in the next flash of lightning, it outlined the man standing by the windows holding his phone to his ear—the real focus of my frayed attention. He was on phone call after phone call and I'd lost count of the number of times he'd run his hands through his midnight black hair.

Who was it? Who was that person?

I knew what I was doing. And I knew that it was really stupid on my part. But I was trying to reconcile that stranger in that split-second memory with this man, my husband. Because if it wasn't Zachary? Who was it? That memory... was the night of the accident. I knew that.

And the answer I had wasn't something I wanted to admit. No, no way.

There was the dull throbbing in my head and with it, thoughts chilled me to the bone. And why now? The cruel memories coming back when I wanted them gone? A sick joke?

The sudden warm hand to my cheek startled me out of it. My eyes turning their attention to the person standing in front of me. Zachary was already stooping down to my level and searching my face.

"Zachary," I said his name, a bit blankly.

He raised one eyebrow in humor though concern was already obvious in his actions. "I called your name three times."

"Oh," there was nothing else to say and nothing else to do but return his blue gaze. And in the moments that my eyes took in his face, as I was absorbing every little detail in his face... I knew immediately there was something wrong with what I was seeing. The glowing blue eyes that I'd come to commit to memory were ringed with pronounced dark circles. His warm complexion was slightly paled. And if I was right, he was thinner than the day I woke to find him a stranger beside my hospital bed. His cheeks hinted with hollows.

My hand, as if on auto, lifted to cover his hand over my cheek.

"Zach," I whispered. The realization that if this situation was hard on me, it had to be the same—if not harder—on him, "Are you okay?"

And while the questions of my memories were a cold feeling inside me, the idea that he was suffering just as I was tugged painfully on my heartstrings.

Zach laughed lightly, taking my hand and pulling me up to stand. "I should be the one asking you that. Are you?"

Him returning the question made me frown.

"I'm serious," I told him, stepping a bit closer to inspect him more. The ease with which he carried himself wasn't fooling me anymore and I critically took him in, my mind already whirring back to his activities in the last week. And upon realizing the punishing schedule he'd taken upon himself with me and with his work responsibilities, I felt a bit angry with myself for being so self-centered.