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"I have a really busy day ahead," I said to her, making the precise knot of my tie. I glanced at her every second through the mirror, I tugged at my sleeves to straighten them out. "I'll come home late..."
I put on my watch and my suit jacket before I made my way to her, placing a kiss on her forehead, "Don't wait up for me."
She blinked at me and I smiled down at her. I turned to walk out of the room but I froze in utter shock as the realization suddenly struck me, unable to move a muscle to take even a single step out of the room.
Did she just blink at me?!
My hand stilled over the doorknob, it took a few moments for it to sink in, her eyes were open and she just fucking blinked at me.
My eyebrows went up to the fucking sky and I turned running back towards the bed to her side.
I swallowed as I saw her eyes wide open, she wasn't staring at me or focusing on anything, her eyes moved around before settling on the ceiling, and she blinked multiple times. Then her lips slowly parted and she let out a soft breath, a little sigh.
I grinned like a fucking fool as I stared at her, it felt like my heart fucking expanded in size, as if it would burst from happiness, "Evangeline?"
She moved her eyes to me and the second our eyes met, her heartbeat accelerated. I could see it, I could see it on the fucking heart monitor machine or whatever the shit it's called.
I softly touched her face, "Evangeline?"
Her finger moved just slightly as if she was trying hard to move, to talk but couldn't, a tear slid down the side of her face and I gently wiped it before calling the doctor.
Her expression changed to one of confusion and disorientation. She seemed lost, nervous, and a little pained by her unfamiliar surroundings. The doctor said there might be a chance that she might get amnesia but it can't happen to us. Fuck no...
"I'm gonna call the doctor, alright?" I told her; she gazed at me for a few seconds.
In the next hour, the doctors arrived, and they did some tests on her to see if her brain was functioning properly or if there was some damage. She seemed fine, she looked fine, I hoped that she was fine.
I waited outside, for a man, who had watched people die the most gruesome death his whole life, the man who had tortured people to the point of breaking them mentally, physically, and emotionally; I couldn't stand the image of her wincing or flinching at whatever the doctors were doing to her. I might lose my mind and kill them all. They were going to remove the feeding tube and everything else that wasn't needed now that she had gained consciousness.
The doctors and the nurses came out of the room, I was leaning against the wall opposite our bedroom door. The medical staff was from our own hospital, and the members of the Cosa Nostra needed medical help more than an average person does, so having your own hospital means less questioning or prying into our personal matters.
