My jaw nearly hits the floor and my mouth remains hanging open for longer than socially acceptable.
I stare at the countless faces surrounding me, searching for the joke. The ‘I got you.’ The ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’
Neither come.
“Mrs. King?” the doctor asks again while adjusting his gold-framed glasses.
My heart squeezes and beats in intervals of uncomfortable pain.
Something must be wrong. There’s no way I’m Mrs. King or that I married Eli two years ago.
I was floundering in fucking depression two years ago. He mocked, ridiculed, and humiliated me two years before that.
He taught me the valuable lesson to never love again.
There’s no way in hell I married him when I was nineteen or that Papa would have allowed it.
I release a burst of nervous laughter before it chokes and dies down amid concerned gazes from my parents, sympathetic looks from the doctors, and a cold glance from the devil himself.
“Good one,” I say with my usual cheerful energy. “Almost got me there. I don’t know what I did to piss you off this time, considering you’re always such a joy to be around, but I think you took it too far.”
Eli’s eyes narrow the slightest bit and I think I catch a muscle clenching in his jaw.
“Mrs. King,” the impressively groomed doctor says. “Can you start by telling us what year we’re in?”
“Ava. It’s Ava. Stop calling me Mrs.…that!” I snap.
“It’s okay.” Mama strokes my shoulder. “Try to relax, hon.”
I realize my fingers are clenched in the bedsheets and my palms sting. I slowly release them and frown when I find my nails short and bare. I’ve always had a shade of pink on my nails and toenails since I was fifteen.
It’s impossible that I’ve kept them bare.
Did the hospital remove my nail polish when I was admitted? That seems trivial and quite bizarre.
“I need this entire thing to stop.” I sound more determined than I feel. “I’m not married to that prick and I sure as hell am not Mrs. anything. I’m only twenty-one, for God’s sake.”
The sudden tension in the room slaps me across the face and I freeze upon catching the note of horror in my parents’ expression.
“W-what?” I sound terrified to my ears. “What’s wrong?”
Eli’s gaze that could rival Antarctica’s frozen landscapes falls on me. “You turned twenty-three a few months ago and we’ve been married for over two years, Ava.”
I realize I’m shaking my head and force myself to stop as I study my parents’ gazes. “He’s lying, right? Mama…? Papa…?”
Since I was young, I’ve known my father to be a massive figure in and outside our home. The man who could fill the horizon with his presence alone but who still treated my mum like a queen and Ari and me like his princesses.
So to see him lower his head sparks a jolt of pain in me. Because I know, I just know I’m the only note of discomfort and shame in his and Mama’s perfect family. The splash of black ink on his intricately woven life.
Ari is the normal, though mischievous, daughter. I’m the anomaly. The one they sometimes need to walk on eggshells around because I was born with a defective brain and a serious case of psychosis.
It was fine when I was living with them, when they could keep me under their watch and coax me to take the meds I hated more than my faulty brain.
But uni came along and I think they gave up. Or maybe I forced them to by keeping my distance whenever they popped the unorthodox question, “Have you been taking your meds?”
I’d say yes instead of the truth. I’d been substituting those fuckers with my favorite cocktail of alcohol and drugs.
Now, I can see that concern rising from the ashes as Mama shakes her head.
It’s not a lie.
If Eli is devious enough to stage this masquerade and even hire an entire medical crew for it, my parents would never betray me.
My gaze falls on those eyes that have haunted me my entire life.
Stormy. Icy. Mysterious.
And reality slams into me worse than my disturbing nightmares.
I’ve lost complete recollection of my life for two whole years.
And somehow, somewhat, someway, I managed to get myself in the worst trouble imaginable.
Getting married to Eli King.
This is just another nightmare I’ll eventually wake up from, right?
So it’s not a nightmare.
I lift my head from Cecily’s shoulder and stare at her face. Her hair is shorter now, all pretty and wavy. She looks more mature; her eyes sparkle differently.
Happy.
I realize that’s what she looks like. Happy.
Though something’s troubling her and I can take a wild guess that it has to do with me.
After Cecy and Ari came along, I managed to kick Eli out under the pretext that I needed girl time.
My sister’s style has also changed. She used to dress in these wannabe outfits that could rival the wardrobe of Satan’s favorite underlings, but right now, she’s wearing a cute polka-dot dress and black Prada boots.
Her bowl-cut dark hair makes her look adorable but like a gorgeous menace.
I can’t believe she’s, like, twenty now. Twenty.
The prospect that I didn’t only lose two years of my life but also of hers and everyone I care about floods my veins with unease.
As I push away from Cecy, Ari shimmies out of her boots and sits cross-legged on the hospital bed, watching me like a rookie detective from those late-night mysteries.
“You could use some skincare.”
“Thanks for the concern, little shit.”
“Anytime.” She flips her hair, but I can see the hint of pain she attempts to hide. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She pauses and bites her lip when Cecily shakes her head.
I stare between them, feeling awfully like an outsider. An imposter in someone else’s skin. “What’s going on?”
Cecily releases a heavy sigh. “We thought something bad would happen to you after we heard about, you know.”
“I don’t know. What?”
“After you fell down the stairs,” Cecily says.
“You really threw yourself down the stairs?” Ari asks in a vulnerable voice I’m not used to hearing from my rowdier-than-hell sister.
“What…no? I don’t know. I don’t remember that. I don’t remember anything after…after the party last—”
I cut myself off before I say last night, because that’s not the case, confirmed by my doctor, who suspects I suffer from a form of dissociative selective amnesia.
There’s no telling what the reason is or how I’d be able to retrieve the missing memories except for being in a supportive environment.
Which is a lot of words to say he has no solution.
It doesn’t make sense that my memories of that night at the club and everything before then are crystal clear, but somehow, I have no idea about my life over the past two freaking years.
I checked the calendar. It’s been exactly two years and three months since that night.
“You really don’t remember anything?” my sister asks.
“Not for the past two years or so.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t completely forget about us.”
“Never.”
Her lips tremble and she looks away before I can see what her eyes are hiding.
“Cecy.” I hold her hands. “It’s not true, right? I need you to be the one who tells me it’s not true. The last time we saw each other was in that shady club you hated while Jeremy had a hard-on for you and bloodlust for anyone who looked your way—you know, the usual for that guy. I promised to leave after you and we agreed to watch Bridget Jones’s Diary before you went to the States. And you…” I stare at Ari. “You blackmailed me into getting info about Remi in exchange for having my back with Papa and Mama.”
“That was over two years ago, Ava.” The sympathy in Cecily’s voice nearly obliterates me, and the rare empathy in Ariella’s face doesn’t help.
I start to release my friend’s hand and pause when my fingers brush against a massive rock.
She’s wearing a diamond ring so big, it’d be a drowning hazard if she wore it while swimming. I flip her hand back and forth, my mouth forming an O. “Cecy, you…you got engaged? When? How? Where?”
“A year ago.” She gives me a sheepish smile. “On an island.”
“Oh my God. I’m so excited for you! Tell me everything.”
“Well, Jeremy called you for advice and you said, ‘Whatever big you’re thinking of, go bigger, Jeremy. You better give Cecy a proposal worthy of her.’ So he bought me an entire island as an engagement gift, whisked me there on our anniversary, and asked me to marry him.”
I nod in approval. “Sounds about right. He could’ve gone bigger, if you ask me.”
“Ava! You know I hate big.”
“But you deserve big, Cecy.” My voice lowers. “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that.”
“Hey…” She strokes my hair. “You’ll be my maid of honor at the wedding. That’s more important.”
“Yes!” I pause, my body feeling foreign, as if my brain doesn’t fit the reality I’ve found myself shoved into. “What else did I miss?”
“Well,” Cecy starts. “Kill and Glyn took the year off and are touring the world, backpacking, and completely disconnected from civilization. They’ve been on their trip for about three months now. They’re engaged, too.”
“Oh fuck. I missed that as well? Who else is engaged?”
“Anni and Creigh. Lan and Mia. Bran and Niko. They’re getting married before Jeremy and me because Niko is in a hurry. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they eloped any day now. Niko’s definitely pro that option and keeps bringing it up daily, but Bran wants their families and friends there.”
Her words hit me like an arrow. The fact that all of this happened during a time I have zero recollection of leaves me hollow.
Why?
Why did I forget a whole two years of my life?
How could I erase important moments for my friends?
Creighton is Eli’s younger brother and the best of the King siblings, in my opinion. Landon and Brandon are his cousins. Bran is an angel and my favorite King man. Lan is an arsehole and a narcissistic psycho, but he’s still much better company than his older arsehole cousin.
Mainly because he helps me destroy the Tin Man’s armor.
“Where does everyone live now? I assume they graduated uni and went on with their lives?”
“Yeah, well. Jeremy, Niko, Bran, and I live in New York. Lan and Mia are also there because Lan is getting an MBA, but they’ll move back to London after they get married. Creigh and Anni are also moving back here, but they’re now spending time with her and Jeremy’s parents in New York. Uncle Aiden isn’t a fan of Creigh not wanting to take his role at King Enterprises. All the weight is falling on Eli’s shoulders.”
“What about Lan?”
“He wants to continue sculpting for a few more years before he sacrifices his, and I quote, ‘godly artistic talent for boring corporate work.’ As you know, Bran never wanted anything to do with the business side of his family, so that only leaves Eli. He’s also involved with the corporation from his mum’s side of the family. Let’s say, it’s not fun being Eli these days.”
And yet he was here for the past two days after I woke up. Even when my parents were around. Even now, I can feel his presence somewhere outside my room.
Why?
Is this another game?
If it is, the rules must’ve changed, because I don’t recognize any of them.
We were supposed to annoy each other while remaining outside of one another’s lives. But now…what?
Married? Eli and I?
I still find it extremely hard to believe.
Ari clicks her tongue. “He’s been a massive doucheface to my Remi and overworking him at Steel Corporation. He better watch his back, I’m telling you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re also engaged?”
“Unfortunately, no. Remi is still an idiot, but he’s my idiot, so you’re not allowed to call him names. I’m the only one who can do that. Anyway, he’ll give me a ring sometime before he dies.”
“You still like him?”
“Don’t be daft, Ava. I don’t like him. I love him. He loves me, too, by the way.”
“Does he know that?”
“Deep in his heart, he does.” She grins.
“How can you be sure? And no, delusion can’t be the answer, Ari.”
“I’m not delusional. You’re delusional.”
“Uh-huh.” Jesus. At least something hasn’t changed.
“Don’t give me that.” Annoyance bubbles to the surface through her voice. “You’re the one who’s delusional enough to think you’re still single or something.”
“Ari!” Cecily scolds.
“What? She got married against everyone’s recommendations and made Papa angry. I’ve never seen him so mad.”
“About that.” I lean back against my pillow. “Something is wrong. You both know I’d never marry He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named willingly. I hate the bastard.”
Ari lifts her chin. “Apparently not enough, because you said no one was allowed to interfere with your decision.”
“I said that?”
“To Papa.”
“No way.”
“And Mama and Nan and Grandpapa and me.”
“And me,” Cecily says in a murmur.
“And Papa let me?”
“Not in the beginning,” Ari says. “He was so pissed, I’m telling you. Like I’d never seen him before. He drove to the King household in the middle of the night and nearly drowned Eli in their pool. If Uncle Aiden hadn’t been there, you’d be crying at Eli’s grave as we speak. But even with that incident, and many others, including, but not limited to, chasing him with a golf club and sending thugs to beat him up, you still didn’t budge. Like, you weren’t even feeling sorry or anything. You were…cold.”
Cecily shakes her head at Ari again. “She wasn’t cold. She was going through something.”
“Stop defending her, Cecy. She nearly broke our family, okay?”
“Ari!” Cecily says.
“What?” I say at the same time.
Ari looks guilty. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me. Now.”
“Well, Mama and Papa were fighting because of the stupid marriage. Papa said you’ll only marry Eli over his dead body and that his decision was final. Mama tried to calm him at first, but when he got violent with Eli and refused to change his mind, she put her foot down and told him he doesn’t get to dictate your life. Mama took you and left for the countryside for, like, two weeks until he calmed down. I hated that time.”
She doesn’t say it, but I can hear it in her unsaid words.
She hated me, too. For driving a wedge between our parents, who we always saw as the epitome of a perfect couple.
I single-handedly nearly drove them apart.
My worst fear materializes before my eyes in the form of a dark beast with hollow eyes and scaly, blurred features.
What have I done?
“And then what happened?”
“Ava, maybe you need to rest.” Cecily pats my shoulder, forever the pacifist, but right now, I need Ari’s brutal honesty.
And my sister gives it to me as she sighs. “He still didn’t agree to the wedding. I don’t think he does even now, to be honest. Especially after you asked that Eli be your legal guardian instead of him. Papa almost didn’t walk you down the aisle and Grandpapa offered to do it instead, but Papa changed his mind last minute. He was still mad and you were crying while hugging him and apologizing. You said you didn’t want to anger him, but you wanted to do this.”
“It just doesn’t make sense. I’d never go against Papa, especially not for that psycho Eli.”
“And yet you already did.” Ari pouts.
“Cecy.” I face my friend. “What did I tell you? There must’ve been a reason behind that out-of-character decision.”
“No one but you and Eli know.”
“But you’re my bestie. I must’ve told you something. Anything?”
She shakes her head. “Honestly, I was a bit hurt you didn’t want to confide in me, but you said it was for my sake. Whatever that means.”
“Listen, what if I was possessed or something? I mean, I had an accident and a ghost could’ve gotten inside me and lusted over Eli, which isn’t that farfetched since he attracts all sorts of attention. Now, I’m back to normal, which is why I remember nothing of the last two years.” I laugh, pleased with myself. “That makes total sense, don’t you girls think?”
They don’t join in, obviously not finding this scenario as hilarious as I do.
“Fine.” I release a heavy sigh. “Can I see the wedding pictures?”
“Sure.” Cecily scrolls on her phone for some time before she shows me an album titled ‘Ava’s Wedding.’
The first picture is of me holding a bouquet of pink tulips and dahlias. Ten out of ten for the choice. Naturally, I approve, considering I already chose my wedding flowers when I was, like, twelve.
My dress is a sparkling champagne-pink strapless gown with glorious diamonds in the corset and a huge tulle and lace skirt that gives a Disney princess dress a run for its money. Mine is more glamorous, with pink jewels carefully sewn into the fabric with explicit, masterful detail.
“Elie Saab,” I whisper.
“You had a meltdown for it.” Ari grins. “It was fun.”
“As I should have.” I nod in agreement with my past self. At least this part seems accurate and not entirely something a possessed version of me would do. I’ve wanted Elie to be my wedding dress designer since I was sixteen.
I eat up the details of the picture. My hair is gathered in an elegant twist and my glam veil falls to the floor like a carpet. My hands are covered with dainty lacy gloves with small sparkling jewels. The details. Oh, my heart. Dream dress.
A pink diamond necklace wraps around my neck, coupled with a matching ring.
“Pink diamonds…” I whisper.
“Eli’s wedding gift.” Cecily smiles. “He got you the entire set, which is one of a kind.”
“Where’s my ring?” I motion at my bare hand.
“Probably with Eli.” Ari lifts a shoulder. “Maybe they removed it when you got admitted to the hospital.”
Something isn’t right. Not sure if it has to do with my bare hand or the fact that the ring’s absence feels…strange.
Bad strange.
Dangerous strange?
What kind of thought is that?
I scroll to pictures of me with the girls. Cecy, Ari, Glyn, and Anni looked hot as fuck. Especially Cecy with her shiny golden dress and soft features. But I’m biased.
There’s a picture with me, the girls, Lan and Bran, who are clutching each other’s shoulders, and Remi, who’s laughing at Creigh while the latter remains poker-faced.
Can’t believe I don’t remember my bachelorette party or all the shenanigans I must’ve made them do.
A tremor rushes through me when I reach a picture of Eli and me. My gloved hand is sneaked through his bent arm as we both stare at the camera.
He looks mouthwateringly sharp in a tailored black tuxedo. Perfect bowtie. Broad shoulders. Refined lines. Shaven face. Stubborn, set lips.
Stormy, cold, cold eyes.
My eyes meet mine in the picture. I look weird. Different. Almost like a version of me I don’t recognize.
I realize with daunting clarity that I look cold, too. Detached. Indifferent.
And while I’m used to that from Eli, I’ve never been like that. Not even when I’m faced with his mocking, rude, and obnoxiously hurtful words. I might have pretended to be nonchalant around him, but that was only a camouflage for what I truly felt.
Just because I acted like a badass doesn’t mean I was immune to pain. He could and did hurt me, several times.
The way I stare at the camera is exactly what I wished my expression would be like whenever I face him.
I marry the guy and suddenly I look terrifyingly like him.
What type of sorcery is that?
I scroll to a picture where Eli and I are facing each other. He has one hand on my hip, the other lifting my chin. Our friends are surrounding us with their significant others. Killian hugs Glyn to his front, Jeremy holds Cecily at his side by the waist, Anni is climbing Creigh’s massive body, Lan is Frenching the shit out of Mia, Nikolai hugs Bran from behind, chin resting on his shoulder, and Ari holds her face in both palms and makes heart eyes at a Remi, who’s shoving her away while grinning at the camera.
Amid all that chaos, the only thing I can focus on is the way I’m looking at Eli. Is that…fear in my eyes? Trepidation?
What fuckery happened for me to decide I needed to marry the devil himself to resolve it?
There must’ve been something.
“Cecy…Ari…that night I last remember, what happened after the accident? Was I fatally injured? Did I hit my head?”
A furrow appears in both their foreheads.
“What accident?” Cecily asks slowly.
“The night you left the club with Jeremy. When I texted you that I was going home, I was actually driving to an after-party. I had a weirdo following me, so I called the police and then I think I was hit by a truck or pushed to the side of the road or something.”
Cecily pauses, fidgets, opens her mouth, then stops.
“What now?” I whisper.
“There was no accident, Ava,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” Ari says. “You came back home late that night. I saw you the next morning, and you were fine.”
“No, I called the police, I—” My words get caught in my throat when a flash hits me out of nowhere.
Long, cruel fingers squeeze my face as flashing anger engulfs me whole. “You’ll keep your goddamn mouth shut, Ava, or so help me God, I’ll sew it shut for you.”
The door opens and I jolt as I meet those eyes. The same eyes that threatened me. No, they terrified me. I can still feel the harsh grip of his fingers around my jaw and the tremor that passed through me at the time.
Eli is my husband, but something tells me this marriage is more of an imprisonment. A way for him to control me. Sew my mouth shut, as he promised.
But about what?
“The doctor agreed to your discharge.” He steps inside in his tailored black trousers and crisp blue shirt, cuffs immaculate, hair pushed back, and presence stifling. The only thing out of place is the slight stubble covering his cheeks as if he hasn’t found the time to groom it.
“Get ready, would you?” he says. “I don’t have all day.”
“All day for what?” I ask with audible trepidation.
“To take you home, Mrs. King.”
