Pov.: Amy
As I inhaled the last of my cigar and found my zen, I made my way back into the hospital, resuming my rounds. I glanced over my patients, and finally, headed toward the room of the man whose name remained a mystery to me.
He was a nameless enigma as his file held no clues, so I dubbed him Josh. As I strode to his room, I chanced upon my two friends, striding toward me.
"Hey girls, how are you?" I inquired.
"We're good, tired but holding up. How about you?" Marga responded.
"I'm calm. Had a cigar, feeling fine now."
"How's your troublesome patient?" Helen cut in.
"Not sure, about to check on him now. Catch up later," I replied, picking up the pace toward his room. Yet, before I could knock, a voice halted me mid-action, trying to articulate something.
"By the way sir, I think that—" He didn't finish. I interrupted.
"Hello, good morning," I greeted with a smile, instantly met by a penetrating gaze as I entered the room.
The gaze originated from a pair of striking grey eyes; the patient's features, now visible for the first time, were captivating. His icy, intimidating eyes drew me in, complemented by the violet white-tipped locks that added to his allure.
"Does he have a girlfriend?" I pondered to myself. "But what am I thinking? With those looks, it'd be foolhardy and illogical for him not to."
Wrapped in my thoughts, a jolt coursed through me. I couldn't fathom the sensation's origin, seeing him for the first time, yet something whispered familiarity.
"The patient's awake," the boy beside my patient announced.
"Perfect," I said beamingly, having deliberated over whether he would ever come to.
Approaching the man sprawled on the bed, my smile was unwavering.
"Any pain upon awakening?” I asked, unable to peel my eyes away.
"And you are?" he inquired back.
"How rude of me, I haven't properly introduced myself," I apologized for the oversight. "I'm Amy, your doctor, and the surgeon who treated and operated on you upon arrival," I announced, “Any pain?” I repeated.
"No, none," he responded, clearly not being forthright.
"Don't lie, sir," I grinned.
"I feel no pain, though a slight discomfort in my chest," he conceded.
"Alright. Don't lie to me. The pain is a result of the emergency surgery," I explained.
After checking him over, finding him stable but requiring further observation, I bade everyone in the room farewell and left.
Strolling down the corridor, a vision stopped me cold.
There he was, my patient, slipping a ring on my finger, beaming after uttering an incomprehensible phrase; my head began throbbing violently and then, a document appeared, bearing my signature - and a name before I penned it.
“Luka?” I uttered, bewildered by the mental chaos.
As the hallway echoed my footsteps, a headache worsened with each image flashing through my mind—visions of him, of us. Then, a ring was on my hand, which I then placed onto his.
"Now you are my husband and my king. I will always follow," my voice echoed in my head, slipping the ring onto his finger.
"What's happening? What are all these images?" I panicked internally.
Clutching my head as the world spun, I collapsed to the floor, as the relentless stream of memories persisted until a recollection surged like a bolt of lightning.
Flashback: One Year Earlier
We indulged in whisky, bottle after bottle, laughing, sharing life stories and anecdotes. I divulged the tale of my boyfriend and his affair with my sister, and he recounted how the most trusted woman in his life tried to end his with a shot to the back. Amid our exchange, Luka offered a smile.
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
"Is that a joke, or are you just drunk?" I chuckled.
"I'm serious," he insisted, his gaze earnest. "Really, no joke. Marry me?"
"I would, truly, but I can't," I hesitated.
"And why's that?" he probed, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Those around me end up hurt; I'd rather be alone than put you at risk," I confessed.
"Marry me; I assure you we won't end like the others. What do you say?" I knew my refusal was imminent, yet something in him impelled me to agree.
"I accept," I said, my joy evident.
"I'd offer a ring, but none at hand," he admitted sheepishly.
"It doesn't matter," I reassured him.
"It does. Wait here, I'll be right back," he said, darting off somewhere, leaving me at the bar, turning to the bartender.
"Leo, when's your shift over?" I asked, his expression soaked in astonishment.
"It's almost done, miss. Why do you ask?" he answered, befuddled.
"I need a witness. Would you do the honor?"
"Miss, I don't think you should do this. You've had too much to drink to make such a significant decision."
"You might be right, but if he's still around tomorrow, I'll be content. Will you?"
"Do what?" Luka inquired, returning with a furrowed brow.
"I asked Leo to witness our wedding, but he hasn't answered," I explained, glancing back and forth between Luka and Leo.
"Well, Leo? What do you say?" my future husband pressed.
"I'm in," the bartender committed.
"When exactly does your shift end?" Amy asked.
"In fifteen minutes," he informed us.
"Then we'll wait right here," Luka concluded, settling next to me.
Fifteen minutes later, Leonel, adorned for the occasion, was at the ready.
We proceeded to the on-site chapel. Standing before the priest, the ceremony commenced. When it was time to exchange rings, Luka produced a velvet red box from his suit pocket, its contents—a pair of golden crown-shaped bands, 18-karat gold gleaming beneath. He handed one to Leo, delicately slipping the other onto my finger.
"Today, Gianna De Angelis, I take you as my beloved wife. I promise to love, protect, and remain faithful; you're now my queen. I shall cherish you like my most precious treasure," Luka vowed, his smile both sincere and ecstatic.
Leo presented the box to me; I retrieved the remaining ring, placing it on Luka's finger.
"Today, Luka Lebedev, I take you as my beloved husband. I vow to love, protect, and remain faithful; you are now my king. I will follow and support you always," I pledged, securing the ring.
Following an old tradition, we each pricked our ring finger, mingling droplets of blood with wine before both partook from the chalice, sealing our union. We signed the marriage certificate, followed by our two witnesses—Leo and Vladimir, Luka's best man, as I learned over drinks.
With our signatures drying, we kissed, sealing the union, concluding the ceremony.
End of Flashback
"This can't be real," I murmured, hands still clutching my head.
"Amy, are you alright?" Helen worriedly asked, happening upon the scene.
"Helen, there's something I have to tell you."
"What happened?" she asked, growing concerned.
"It's a long, complicated story."
"Spit it out," she urged with growing alarm. "You're scaring me."
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