The Butterfly Effect

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Danielle couldn't remember the sleep. She couldn't remember the nothingness and the peace—only the touch that had awoken her. Her dreamless state had been like a black world of inky waters, so completely still it was a mirror. The gentle whisper of a caress had rippled the glass-like rest, stirring her calm and lifting her from her drowsiness.

Her closed lids fluttered open.

She gasped as light burned her eyes, and she tried to sit up as a looming shadow towered over her. Memories of Alexander flooded her mind, and she tried to scream, but her throat burned and she couldn't breathe. Her arm stung when she moved, and she saw needles sticking out. A constant noise sounded beside her, and she tried to tell someone to make it stop, but a jumble of her mother tongue bled out.

"내가 어디 있지?  누구세요?  어떻게 된 거예요?"

The tall shadow of the man disappeared, and a woman was in front of her.

"Miss, calm down." The voice was soft, feminine. Danielle had trouble controlling her ragged breathing, and had a hard time looking straight at her. She hadn't talked to a woman in so long she almost forgot what one sounded like. She used to listen to her own voice, comparing it to her old friends Alexander wouldn't let her see anymore, imagining them sitting in front of her, what they would say.

Hearing the woman's soft consolations, it reminded her of her own mother, and she learned to breathe again.

"You're in Saint George Hospital. You were rushed here after you were in a car accident." The word brought a fresh memory back--the screeching of a car and a blinding light. Danielle understood now what that was, and shifted back onto the bed.

A sharp pain ran up her side like molten lava and everything went limp for a moment so Danielle could breathe. Now fully awake, she felt the broken bones and blazing headache like a--well, like a car ramming into your body.

An abrupt flash of pain well up inside her skull and she saw a hulking shadow peering down from her. Her veins went cold at the thought that it might've been Alexander, and Danielle remembered that she saw the same figure just now. Petrified, she looked towards the other side of her room, where one tall man stood, face reflecting how terrified she was.

The man looked unlike his height and maturity when Danielle looked at his face. With an expression of a child caught doing something he should be, the man had to compose himself first before approaching her.

Danielle clutched the doctor harder as he came close.

"I'm Roman Konstantinos. I was the one driving the car that hit you. I'm here to check on your welfare and express how absolutely sorry I am." The fear was gone, leaving only a cold man with business to discuss.

Danielle almost didn't know what to make of this. Her head felt foggy and her eyes were heavy in her skull. She was not ready for this, to be so close to someone who looked like he could hurt her.

This man, he was the opposite of Alexander. With his cold, calculating eyes that drowned her in ice, his formal speech, his detachment in his polite smile—he was the winter day to Alexander's hellfire. Danielle knew she was right to be wary.

"All your hospital fees are taken care of," Roman continued, and Danielle watched him with caution. "If you need any help, here's my information. You can contact me if you have any problems concerning the accident."

The man handed Danielle a crisp black card with golden print and his name. It was his personal card, without a company or organisation named but had contained his personal phone number. The man left after that, and Danielle could only stare at the card, the encounter still fresh in her head.

All she could think was how she wished she was still asleep.

❅❅❅❅

Roman was nonplussed as he left the room. What in the world was that?He'd even given her his personal phone number, when his entire goal was to cut her off like one would their split ends. As far as business goes, this was not the kind he divulged in.

The man suppressed a need to groan as he rubbed his tired eyes, hoping to scrape off the past two weeks off his mind.

Jesus, I need to get my shit together. There was no way he could go to work like this, with his head scrambled like breakfast eggs. He wouldn't let a stranger unsettle him like this—not some stranger he ran over, no matter how she bat those eyes at him.

Why on earth would you give her your private card? She might've done all this to leech your money. What if she threatens to go public with this debacle? What if she calls?

Then I could talk to her.

With a scowl, Roman swore at himself. He needed some goddamn rest, and to forget this woman. Let James handle it.

He needed to regain control.