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"Don't mind Sarah," the doctor said as the nurse left the room. "She tends to talk too much and say things she shouldn't."
Elisa frowned slightly. What did he mean by that? If her parents were planning a wedding, that meant someone close was getting married. But who? Was it her sibling? Did she even have a brother or sister? She didn't know. She didn't even know herself.
"Whose wedding?" she asked again, this time more firmly. She didn't know why she was so curious. It wasn't like she would recognize the name, even if they told her.
"That's not something you need to worry about right now," the doctor said gently. "What matters most is getting enough rest. You've just woken up from a coma. I'll come back to check on you later."
He gave her a small nod and left the room. Elisa watched him go, her eyes still slightly narrowed. Something about him made her uneasy. He hadn't said or done anything wrong, but the way he looked at her... it felt strange. She couldn't explain why, but her instincts were unsettled.
The room was quiet again. The soft hum of machines, the ticking of the wall clock, and the occasional beep from her monitor were the only sounds. Her head still felt heavy, and her body ached, but it was a dull ache now.
She lay there staring at the ceiling until her eyes began to flutter shut on their own. Her limbs relaxed, and her breathing slowed. Soon, sleep pulled her under again.
**************************************************
She didn't know how long she'd been asleep when the sound of voices stirred her. They weren't loud, but they weren't trying to whisper either. The voices were tense.
"When will she wake up?" a man said. His voice was deep and harsh, with a clear note of irritation. He sounded older, maybe in his fifties. "I've been sitting here long enough. I don't want to waste more time."
"Maybe just a few more minutes," another voice, the doctor, answered calmly.
"You told me she was awake," the man snapped. "Why would you call us here if she's just going to sleep again?"
"She was awake...for a short while," the doctor replied. "She's just resting now."
"Well, wake her up," the man said, clearly impatient.
"Patrick, please," came a woman's voice, soft and tired. "Let her sleep. We've waited this long... what's a few more minutes?"
"I'm just tired of being here," the man, Patrick, muttered. "I have other things to take care of."
"I understand, Mr. Mancini," the doctor said.
Mr. Mancini? Elisa's ears perked up. That's my last name... is he my father? Curiosity won out. She opened her eyes just a little, just enough to peek. Thankfully, no one noticed. She tried to focus on the man, but her vision was still a little blurry. His outline was strong, tall, broad shouldered. His arms were crossed.
"If you'd like to leave," the doctor continued, "you can. When she wakes again, I'll be sure to notify you earlier. I apologize for the wait."
Just then, the doctor turned toward her and caught sight of her barely open eyes.
"Oh, look. She's awake."
All heads in the room turned toward her. Caught, Elisa had no choice but to open her eyes fully.
Her gaze drifted from one face to another. She was about to focus on the man who might be her father, but her attention stopped on the woman standing near him.
She was beautiful, so beautiful Elisa couldn't look away. Red hair framed her face, and her blue eyes sparkled even without light. Something about her struck Elisa immediately. She didn't know how she knew, but she just did: this was her mother.
The woman's lips curved into a gentle smile. There was warmth in it, real warmth, but also something sad. As if the smile was hiding an apology. She stepped forward and sat gently beside Elisa on the bed. Her fingers brushed back Elisa's hair, soft and slow.
"Oh, my darling," the woman whispered, her voice shaky. "You're awake. I thought I might never hear your voice again. How are you feeling?"
Elisa wanted to answer, but her throat was dry. "Better," she managed, still staring at the woman.
"Thank heavens," the woman said softly. "I was so afraid... You must be more careful while driving. I could've lost you."
"I'm sorry," Elisa replied quietly.
She couldn't stop staring at the woman's red hair, hoping it would jog her memory but nothing came.
"Do you remember me?" the woman asked, watching her closely.
Elisa shook her head slowly.
Oddly, the woman looked relieved. "That's all right," she said. "You'll remember eventually."
She gave Elisa's hand a squeeze.
"I'm Elizabeth Mancini. I'm your mother," she said, then turned and pointed to the man who stood a little farther away. "And that's Patrick Mancini-your father."
Elisa turned her gaze toward him. He stood stiffly, arms still crossed. His face was unreadable, lips tight, jaw clenched. He had blond hair with streaks of grey, and cold grey eyes that stared right at her. He wore a black suit, sharp and neat.
He didn't speak.
"Hi," Elisa said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer. He didn't nod. He didn't move. He just kept looking at her, as if studying something behind her eyes. The silence in the room grew heavier. Even the doctor looked uncomfortable, glancing between Elisa and her father like he was bracing for something.
A strange chill crawled down Elisa's arms. For a reason she couldn't explain, she felt uneasy-almost frightened. Her mother must have noticed because she reached out and took Elisa's hand again, bringing it close and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"Don't worry about him," her mother whispered so only Elisa could hear. "He's just not good at showing how he feels. He was terrified when you got hurt... and he's angry that you were being careless behind the wheel."
Elisa swallowed. "How did the accident happen?"
"You crashed into a tree," her mother said. "It was a miracle you weren't badly hurt."
Elisa hesitated. The question had been sitting in her chest since she woke up. "Did anyone ... die?"
"No, sweetheart," her mother said quickly, and Elisa sighed in relief.
There was a pause.
"How long have I been here?" Elisa asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Before her mother could say more, her father suddenly spoke, his voice cold and flat.
"Two weeks. You've wasted enough time already. My phone hasn't stopped ringing since you were brought here. The Bellucci's are refusing to delay the wedding again. As soon as the doctor clears you, we're leaving. Stefano will back out if you don't show up. You know how he is. He's been waiting for a reason to cancel it. Why give him one?"
Elisa blinked, confused. Her curiousty about the wedding shot up. Except this time, it was coupled with a chill. Now, she was scared when she asked again. "Wedding? Whose wedding?"
Her mother didn't speak. Her father did.
"Yours."