The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet hospital room. You slowly blinked, light stinging your eyes as they opened for the first time in a week. Everything felt distant, like waking from a deep dream. A tall figure in military uniform stood at your bedside, rigid at first—then he leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You’re awake...” His voice was hoarse, broken with emotion. He took a shaky breath. “It’s me. Davon. I’m here.”

He moved closer, his strong hand gently wrapping around yours. “You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered. “I thought I lost you. But you're back... you're back to me.”

You stared at him, uncertain, your brow furrowing slightly.

Just then, the door opened and a doctor entered, clipboard in hand. He gave Davon a respectful nod before turning to you with a soft smile.

“Well, this is a good sign,” the doctor said. “You’re conscious, and that’s a miracle in itself.” He glanced at the monitors, checked your vitals, then looked back at you carefully.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” the doctor continued, more serious now. “You’ve suffered a traumatic brain injury in the accident. Based on your scans and initial reaction, it appears you’ve lost significant portions of your memory.”

Davon froze, his hand tightening around yours.

“You might not recognize people close to you right now,” the doctor added gently. “That man by your side—he’s your husband. He’s barely left this room since you arrived.”

Davon lowered his head for a moment, then looked back into your eyes, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Whatever you remember or don’t... I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”