4: The Unexpected Awakening

The doctor's words lingered in the air of the Everett mansion, heavy with implications. "If all progresses well, we could know within three to four months," he stated, his voice clinical, devoid of emotion. Lily, standing amidst the opulent décor of the room, felt a tide of uncertainty wash over her. She chose not to ponder the possibilities of delay. The path was set; there was no turning back now. Days melded into nights in Crestwood City, where rain cascaded down in sheets, painting the streets with the colors of the gloomy sky. A chill wind whispered secrets as it danced through the city, leaving a lingering cold in its wake. One evening, after a solitary bath, Lily's gaze fell upon the skincare products on her vanity. An inexplicable urge overcame her to care for Michael, lying unresponsive in his bed. "The cold weather is unkind to the skin," she murmured to herself, crafting a logical reason for her actions. She got a small basket and loaded it with several skincare products. Then she exited the bedroom and found her way to the master's bedroom where Michael was. Sitting beside Michael's bed, she gently scooped a dollop of cream onto her fingertips. As she tenderly applied it to his face, his eyes fluttered open. Lily, accustomed to his vacant stares, continued her ministrations without pause. But then, an intense gaze pierced her. In the quiet of the room, she could feel Michael's eyes fixed on her, a feeling she couldn't ignore. Her hand halted mid-air, her body tensing under his unexpected scrutiny. Their eyes met, and in that instant, Lily retracted her hand, her heart pounding against her chest. "Michael, are you... awake?" Her voice trembled, betraying a fear she hadn't anticipated. Michael's response was a silent, piercing stare that sent a shiver down her spine. Panicked, Lily fled the room, her footsteps echoing her racing heart as she raced down the winding staircase. "Martha, quickly! Michael's awake! He's truly awake!" Lily's voice cracked as she called for the housekeeper, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. Her marriage to Michael, once a mere formality, had been based on the belief in his imminent demise. The prospect of his awakening was a scenario she hadn't dared to imagine. Now, with reality upending her plans, she felt lost in a maze of her own making. Doctors and security rushed by her, each a blur in her dazed vision. When Amelia Everett arrived, the sight of her son, awake and aware after almost two years, brought tears to her eyes. "My dear Michael, you've returned to us," she sobbed, her emotions overwhelming her. The doctor reassured Amelia. "His physical condition was exceptional prior to the incident. A full recovery is within reach with proper rehabilitation." Amelia, overcome with joy, fainted, the shock too much for her to bear. In the ensuing chaos, she was gently escorted to a nearby room. Everyone surrounded Michael, but Lily remained at the doorway, a solitary figure grappling with uncertainty. Michael's gaze, now alert and searching, found hers. She was the first person he saw upon awakening. 'Who does she think she is, touching me like that?' Michael thought, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, his voice, barely above a croak due to the long unuse of his vocal cords. "Who is this woman?" Michael's voice cut through the room like a knife, getting stronger and stronger with every word he spoke. Martha, knowing Michael's temperament, steeled herself. "Sir, during your...unconsciousness, Madam Amelia arranged for you to marry." "Get out!" Michael's command was sharp, his gaze on Lily filled with unmistakable disdain. Lily, already on edge, felt her fear intensify. Retreating, she realized the gravity of her situation. Michael was a force she had underestimated, and now she was caught in his storm. The bedroom door slammed shut, leaving Lily in the hallway with Martha, whose sympathetic touch offered little comfort. "Don't worry, Madam Amelia values you. We'll sort this out very soon," Martha whispered. Lily tried to muster a smile, but the events of the evening left her expression frozen, her mind reeling. "Thank you, Martha," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. As she retreated to the bedroom, the reality of her situation dawned on her. She had become Michael's wife, a pawn in a game she never wanted to play. Now, with Michael's awakening, the rules had suddenly changed. Lying in bed, she wrapped herself in blankets, but the coldness inside her wouldn't abate. Michael, more formidable than she had imagined, was a mystery she couldn't unravel. A voice in her head kept insisting: survival meant leaving him.