Neva stood there arms crossed before a transparent glass sheating a whole wall, looking through at the world.
The greyish blue sky of the calling twilight.
It seemed sad.
The bright clouds of orange and trees dimmed from the tall skycrapers, the city below glittering in lights.
The streetlights lightened golden, busy vehicles running, people swarming through—in warm clothes appearing tiny.
"Are you ready?" Ishmael's voice fissured through Neva's spiralling wonder. She glanced at him over her shoulder.
He had come back after visiting her doctor for formalities.
She nodded at him once, while he walked towards her with a slight arch of his lips.
Standing before her, he tucked strands of wavy locks veiling, lacing her face behind her ear.
As his large warm hands caressed fondly her rosy cheek, her eyes threaded up to his dark brown orbs.
"Let's go home." He said in his soft, deep voice.
Lowering her eyes, she stringed her slightless gaze to his chest.
Curling his index finger under her chin, Ishmael raised her eyes to look at him.
When their orbs met, he closened to her lips and placed a brief kiss there.
"You'll be fine." He murmered and kissed her smoothly on the lips again.
He grabbed her hand and started towards the door.
The luggages were already set in the car by his guards.
Walking along the hallway with him, white intimidated the streaks of blue in the walls of hallway.
Ushering not one patient, and barely any people drifting through in their path.
And the nurses and doctors they were passing by, they immediately bowed at them, as if they revered them; or rather him.
Neva's brows folded at the eerie silence hovering the hospital. She glanced at him, curiosity brimming in her orbs; wondering who this husband of hers could possibly be.
The sky darkening slow, the nature steaming smoke in the air. She was sat at the passenger seat, while Ishmael drove the car, steady and gradually, gathering her enough span to lay hold on the magical scenery in this fast pacing time. She blew out hot vapour staining haze on the glass, mirroring the curling mist.
She leaned her head on the window, the orange and red maple leaves floating in the wind, falling breezily on the ground.
And then, a tiny mysterious prick in her chest and flutter in her belly, had sadness and longing surging in her eyes.
She was frowning at the unaware hiraeth evoked by such beautiful autumn.
She turned her head at the pavement ahead instead, but the dead leaves didn't spare her, drawing—writing her that she was faring, leaving behind the faded past.
Crowds of people strolled by the boundery of the park, the merry young children with their parents ignititing the realisation of her swollen belly.
From the moment she woke up, she had been living in a daze. He apprised her about the accident, which led to her suffering amnesia.
Her paled memories reserved her no space to know anything about herself: she didn't know her name, her parents, and she didn't even recognise her husband beside.
But the babies in her womb were mercifully unharmed, she didn't carry wounds or bruises, and the later aspect, still bewildered her greatly.
"How long have we been married?" Neva asked, breaking the comfortable silence in the car.
He glanced at her briskly, before focusing ahead at the road again. "About two months." He replied, and saw her fairly dark, slim carved eyebrows sinking further through his peripheral vision.
"But you said I'm in my sixth month of pregnancy." Neva uttered, the information not sitting right with her.
He hummed in response. "By the time of our marriage, you were already four month along." This detail must be a stab to her morals in life. He knew that: although she had suffered retrogade amnesia, she couldn't be severed with the fundamental understanding of basic life facts and morals.
"Are you upset by that?" He asked.
Neva's lips pursed, she was hush for a moment. "I don't know,"
"Do I love you?" She looked at the side of his finely sculpted face, his sharp jaw tensing at her probing.
"You did. But you have to figure out the feeling engraved inside." He remarked.
She didn't respond, hands placed on her lap, she was fiddling with the wedding ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.
Neva was anxious; for there wasn't a spark of affection in her heart for him. And she was afraid of the approaching days, where she would be sharing a home with the stranger, who was her husband.
She swallowed. Her hands turning clammy with sweat.
"What about our family?"
"We don't have any. You're all I have, and I'm all you have." Glimpsing at her, he softly smiled, before rivetting his gaze at the road and whirling the steering wheel to the left and taking a smooth turn.
"Oh," Neva trailed off, her eyes dimming.
The rest of the short ride went on with quietness. The faraway boulevard, with trimmed bushes and trees with black branches and orange maple leaves on the sides could only be seen from the shadowed ether and clouding haze, while it was looming the space of the fast pacing car.
The straight road was clear, with no gliding vehicles on the smooth concrete surface, or a single person in sight.
The headlights were turned on low beams, the heavy fog blinding the withdrawing and advancing route.
A familiar allegory of her white gone by and forthcoming morrow.
Neva was dozing off when discerning their car, the enormous, towering iron gate opened up, while on the outside stood several guards wearing all black suit, and they were all armed.
After along the driveway of above five minutes, the car pulled up to a massive mansion of white walls and deep blue roof, securing a large part of the land surrounded by the forest.
She took her time to suck in the magestic view, when Ishmael had already walked around the front of the car and unbarred her door.
"You're planning to spend the night in the car?" His teasing voice guided Neva out of her thoughts.
As she dipped her head to glance at him, he reached out to unbuckle her seatbelt. "Come on," he muttered, taking a hold of her hand he helped her step out the car. He then closed the door behind.
A cold gust of wind flurried over Neva's frame, having a shiver run down her spine. She had worn a beige cardigan, and under a long fitting, light brown, with pale multicoloured striped patterned knitwear dress, flowing hollow and shaping her bump, flaring down at her ankle.
He wrapped his long, black suit jacket over her shoulder.
The warmth embracing her, she looked up at him and muttered: "Thankyou."
A man in black, white striped suit approached them.
Ishmael handed him the keys to park the Rolls Royce in the carport.
"Are you very rich?" Neva inquired Ishmael. He arched a brow at her. "I am." He answered, entangling their hand ms and sauntering towards the entrance door of the old–money–house.
"What do you do for living?" She asked again. He broke out in a smile. She was still the same, always so curious. He lightly squeezed her hand, "Save the questions for later love. I'll let you know everything once you're comfortable and warm inside."