Chapter 5 UNSPOKEN SECRETS

As Alex's recuperation proceeded, our interactions grew more frequent and important. The hospital routine continued, but the times in between took on new significance. There was an obvious intensity between us, expressed through silent glances and short touches.

Today, after assisting him with exercises, he leaned back against the pillows, and I altered the angle of the bed. "Thanks," he replied gently, his tone reflective. His eyes lingered on me while I made the adjustments, generating a tingling sensation in the back of my neck.

"You're making good progress," I remarked lightly. "It won't be long before you're walking laps around this place."

He smiled faintly, but there was something behind it-an unspoken sentiment, a suppressed emotion. "I hope so," he said. "I'm starting to feel a little more like myself... but not completely."

I sensed a shift in his demeanor and softly inquired, "Do you remember anything else?" "Anything new?"

He shook his head, his gaze shifting to his hands laying on the blanket. "No, only flashes. "There are no meaningful images or feelings."

I remained silent, permitting the ominous quietness to rest between us. The silence grew longer, and the space seemed heavy with the weight of words that were not spoken. There was something budding between the two of us that both chose to ignore, and it was becoming more and more difficult to do so.

As I finished making the bed, I unconsciously touched his hand with mine, and I was shocked. The simple touch almost felt as though it had flipped something inside. It felt as if the contact had ignited something deep inside. I quickly withdrew my hand, assuming he hadn't noticed how it affected me.

But then I looked at him and realized he had. His gaze was focused on me, asking something without words. We remained still for a minute, ensnared in the orbit that had developed between the two of us but then he turned, and then the spell was broken.

I turned back to my computer, trying to force the harnessed heat that had risen up within me down. But it was useless to try and block the unusual feelings that had started to resurface, feelings that I knew were crossing an invisible line. He was my patient, and I was his nurse. That was the line, and I was not able to cross it. Not after everything that I've been through, not after Liam.

I forced myself to try and get rid of the idea, but it stuck on my mind like glue making me recall all those things why I would never let myself be that close to someone ever again. The pain in losing a beloved person and the anxiety of being hurt once more completely paralyzed me. And still, though I thought that even if I tried my best to do so, I would still be able to maintain the distance, there was Alex who was making it even more difficult for me, drawing even nearer though I put up all the defenses I could afford to my heart.

The guilt was a vexation to me, and it clouded every moment; no time spent with Alex was free from this worry. I began to find reasons to get off his bed earlier to avoid those pregnant pauses which both of us knew were too heavy with meaning. Yet still, I felt an obsessive need to him, and I was doing it all wrong because instead of working on other things – I fantasized about him.

As it turned out, it was not just me. All along I had somehow figured that Alex too was on the same boat. He was more silent than usual, more introverted and it seem to me that there was a volcano inside of him that was about to explode. He was angry, that was quite obvious, frustrated, which I ascertained was building up in him because his eyes were slightly darker indicating inner turmoil that he could not place.

Once, during one of the sessions in which I was helping him with some physical treatment, that tension finally came to the surface.

"Why are you always so damn defensive, anyway?" He asked, still sounding slightly irritated, "Why do you have to pull away from me, time after time? I mean the moment we start talking you come up with some lame reason and walk away."

I felt a freeze within me caused by the intensity of his voice. It did not even occur to me that he had been aware of it. "I am not trying to pull away," I protested, or rather it was a feeling of defiance that I did not mean it even if I had to say it.

"Yes, you are," he said while keeping his eyes fixed at me. "You have been avoidance towards me. "Now, have I said something that upsets you in a way?"

The heartiness in his voice was so painful and I attempted to speak for I knew apologies were insufficient. "No, it is not you." "It's just...." I paused for a minute since I did not know how to explain the variety of emotions I could feel inside of me.

"Then what is it?" he said in a way that guts even the most menial of humans. "I, for one, do not understand what it is. We should be on the same page and somehow become close, no? And then all of it gets dissolved out of nowhere and you act as if there is a marathon to break all the records."

His words ripped so many things out of the air that hung heavily on both of us on which we had said nothing. The fact was that I was appalled in a way, I was scared of getting emotionally close or scared of getting in a situation where I could start developing feelings for him. But how can I say that without making it worse?

"Sorry," I finally said, almost inaudibly. "Alex, it's not about you. This one is about Me. I am just... "I am. I am sorry." I am scared"

He made an expression of discontent, looking puzzled and bothered. "What are you scared of?"

I opened my mouth and thought the time had come for me to join the conversation, but the words got stuck in my throat. Because how could I have told him that I was scared of loving him and repeating history? It felt too raw and vulnerable to confess

Instead, I simply shook my head and managed a small smile to cover my embarrassment. "Complicated."

With a sigh, he averted his gaze, and the rigidity of his posture subsided slightly. "I've been getting that a lot these days," he said almost under his breath, quite gruffly. "Everything's complicated at all."

The chat left both of us disturbed, and so was the air with unexpressed things between us. I felt an urge to clarify and soothe the discomfort and the anguish in me that I had created but every time I did that, fear prevented me from acting.

The days that followed were filled with anxiety, our exchanges strained, and they dug into arguments. I kept my separation, retreating back into the coldness of my profession, only to find that the depth of that relationship was bleak in this case. I, too, understood what this was doing to Alex. He was growing more anxious, more restless, as if battling something that was just out of reach.

And just when I felt that the situation could not possibly plunge any lower, the visitor arrived.

It was while in the process of going to Alex's room and mentally prepared for another horrible meeting that I saw the visitor standing at the nurses' station. The man was tall, wearing an overcoat that seemed quite out of the weather conditions in the hospital, and he was very erect and authoritative. He was speaking to the attending nurse in a lower voice than I could grasp the meaning of any of his words, and I looked upon him in an odd way, and a dark feeling began to creep over my mind.

Once I walked in, the charge nurse turned to me and cocked her head with an expression of confusion. "Emma, this gentleman has inquired about Mr. Doe," she said, adding her point to Alex's room.

When I looked at the man, my heart raced. It was as if he caused a sudden sense of authority and comforted me, sending shivers down my spine but without an apparent reason. 'And you are?' I asked and took a moment to breathe in order to remain calm.

He shifted his gaze to me as well, and I felt as if his penetrating stare was examining me. "I am an old ... er ... friend of his," he said softly. "I heard there was an accident and came to find out how he was."

His tone was what alarmed me and it drove my suspicion higher than usual. But as I prepared to question him more, the door to the room Alexander was in opened and Alex stepped out into the hallway.

The minute Alex recognized the stranger, the expression on his face changed. One could tell something intangible, something like recognition or confusion but enough to make my heart race. He gazed at the man for what seemed like ages as if he was trying to remember where he had seen him from and then turned to me with an expression of muddled confusion on his face.

'... You.... I.... I met you before,' Alex started the statement with a question that was tipped over and came from a failed delivery of the order, almost regretfully.

In the man's smile lay uncertainty as well as a tone that was strained. "Yes, Alex." "You know me."

Those words made my heart pound and my stomach twist in dread. There was something strange about this man but I could not put my finger on it. All that I knew was that I hated him, and what made it worse was that Alex seemed to recognize him.

"May I have a word with you?" The man addressed his intent but did not for a moment break his stare at Alex. "Somewhere where we cannot be overheard?"

I opened my mouth to say something in his defense, but Alex simply nodded once again, still dazed. "Fine," he replied in a bland tone remembering the engagement as though he was on a remote control.

The man turned to the nurse and nodded, indicating that he wanted to redirect the subject. The nurse, evidently uneasy, merely pointed to an adjacent conference room down the hall. Alex looked at me with hesitation in his eyes, as if he was seeking comfort. But I didn't have anything to offer. All I could do was offer him a faint, tight-lipped smile that did not reach my eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper, hoping he could perceive my anxiety.

Alex paused for a time, his attention moving between me and the man. He then offered a tiny nod, but I could tell he wasn't quite convinced himself. "I'll be fine," he muttered to himself, rather than to me.

Without saying anything, the man guided Alex down the corridor, his hand lightly brushing Alex's shoulder as they walked side by side. I watched them leave, my pulse racing in my chest. Every instinct told me to stop them, to draw Alex away from whatever harm this man represented. But I was caught in place, paralyzed by the uncertainty of what to do next.

The conference room door closed softly behind them, leaving me standing alone in the empty corridor. The abrupt silence was deafening, and the tension in the air felt almost suffocating. I remained there for what seemed like an eternity, my thoughts racing with a thousand conceivable scenarios, each more terrifying than the next.

Who was the man? What did he want from Alex? Why did I feel that everything was about to change?

I couldn't simply stand there doing nothing. My feet moved before I could think about it, carrying me to the meeting room. I told myself I was merely checking on Alex, as any concerned nurse would. But I knew it was more than that. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

I approached the door cautiously, placing my ear to the soft wood. Muffled voices approached me from the other side, low and vague, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. I could hear the man's voice in a calm, measured tone, as well as Alex's occasional response, but their words were lost in the barrier between us.

The longer I listened, the more tense I felt. Every ounce of my being wanted to rush into that room and demand answers, but I couldn't. I had to be patient and trust Alex to handle whatever it was. But it was difficult-very difficult-because my instincts told me to intervene.

And suddenly, just when I thought I'd had enough, the voices ceased. There was a long, torturous pause, and I held my breath, hoping to hear any sound, any hint as to what was going on. Finally, the door cracked open, and I jumped back, just making it into a neighboring nook before they stepped out into the hallway.

The man went out first, keeping his look neutral and betraying nothing. Alex followed, his face pale, his eyes wide with a mix of perplexity and something else-something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it sent shivers down my spine. He appeared shaken, as if their chat had left him more adrift than before.

I wanted to rush to him and ask him what had occurred, but I pushed myself to remain hidden, observing them from the shadows. The man talked gently to Alex, and while I couldn't hear his words, his tone was clear-reassuring, almost patronizing, as if he were consoling a child after a nightmare.

They exchanged a few more words until the man turned and walked away with a sense of finality. Alex watched him leave, his shoulders sagging as the space between them increased. He stood there for a time, staring after the man as if attempting to make sense of what had just occurred.

When the man vanished around the corner, I emerged from my hiding place, unable to stay away any longer. "Alex?" I called gently, my voice shaking with concern.

He slowly turned to face me, as if he hadn't noticed me standing there until I spoke. His eyes met mine, and I saw the depth of his perplexity, the terror that lay just beyond the surface.

"What happened?" I inquired, closing the distance between us. "Who was that man?"

Alex shook his head and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. "I... I don't know," he said, barely audible. "He offered to help me as a friend, but... I don't recall him. "I can't remember anything."

My heart twisted as I heard the sorrow in his voice. He looked so lost and vulnerable, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and shield him from whatever darkness was approaching. But I could not. I had to be strong for him, even if that meant suppressing my own worries.

"Did he say anything that might help you remember?" I inquired gently, hoping to lead him through the muddle in his head.

Alex hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember the conversation. "He mentioned...a place," he continued slowly and distantly, as if speaking from a dream. "A house." He stated I lived there and it was significant to me, but it has no meaning for me. It's as if he's discussing someone else's life, not mine."

A icy dread settled in my stomach. Whoever this man was, he knew something about Alex's past-something important. And the fact that Alex couldn't recall any of it made it much more terrifying. What kind of life did Alex lead before the accident? And why did it feel as if the answers were just out of grasp, mocking us with their obscurity?

"Maybe it will come back to you," I answered, but the words rang hollow even as I spoke them. "You've gone through so much, Alex. It will take time, but I am here for you. "We'll figure it out together."

He glanced at me, and the gratitude in his eyes was nearly overwhelming. "Thank you, Emma," he replied quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

His remarks thrilled me, but they also gave me a strong sense of duty. Whatever Alex was going through, whatever mysteries were concealed in his history, I was right there with him. And I knew I couldn't let him go through it alone.

However, as we walked back to his room, the worry persisted, nibbling at the borders of my thoughts. There were too many unresolved questions and mysteries hidden in the darkness. And I couldn't get the idea that this was just the beginning, that the man who had been to see Alex had started something that couldn't be undone.

As we approached his room, I saw Alex return to bed, his face still pale and his eyes distant as he tried to make sense of it all. I wanted to ask for additional information, but I held back since I sensed he needed time to comprehend what had just transpired.

Instead, I sat quietly by his side, holding his hand and offered simply my presence. But the questions lingered, whirling like a storm on the horizon.

Who was the man? What did he want from Alex? What would happen if the past finally caught up with us?

I knew I'd get the answers. But as I watched Alex fall into a restless sleep, I couldn't shake the notion that when they did, everything would change.

And this worried me more than anything else.