Author’s Pov
It was an hour later that Amy found herself returning to consciousness again. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision hazy, yet she had managed to sit straight. She felt her shoulder throbbing, instantly recognising the gunshot wound that she had gotten last week. Once her vision cleared, she inspected herself, only to find her clothes had changed and her wound was freshly dressed. The last thing she remembered was Jay running towards her after the crash. And then she had lost consciousness.
Slightly stretching her neck, she cracked the strained bones as her eyes roamed around the room, finally spotting Jay, who lay on another stretcher in the corner. She got off the stretcher, rising to her feet as her limbs dragged towards him. She found him deep in slumber. He had gotten injured as well.
His forehead was wrapped in bandages; it made her feel guilty. She didn’t move but kept staring at him, his features looking peaceful asleep, yet she yearned for those blue, twinkling orbs that resembled starry skies whenever he looked at her. He looked exhausted, and she felt guilt sinking in; she was the reason behind his state.
She heard footsteps coming in. The doctor who had treated her earlier had stopped in his tracks once he found Amy standing near Jay. His jaw dropped to the floor, gawking at Amy as if she were a ghost. If a normal person had suffered a crash, they wouldn’t even sit straight without support, and here he was seeing Amy standing on her very own two feet, which had felt like a miracle to him.
But who knew she was ‘The Ash’ and not just any ordinary woman, a woman who had been a part of the underworld, had survived storms, and had shed blood countless times? She stared in the face of death every day she survived; she had always fought back.
She turned towards the pale doctor, who had been staring as if she had grown two heads.
Amy: What is it?
Her words pierced through the peaceful room, partly annoyed with the ogling stare. The doctor instantly cleared his throat.
“I… I’m just surprised. You survived a deadly crash, and your stitches got ripped. Looking at the wound on the shoulder, you’d been shot. I redid your stitches, and it's fresh, and you... You look unfazed.”
The doctor spoke as his words wavered. He was speechless. But Amy was not at all interested in praise.
Amy: What about him? How are his injuries? What happened while I was out?
She questioned not letting the attention linger on her anymore, to which the doctor grew silent.
Doctor: He had a panic attack. He rescued you from the car before it exploded. You wouldn’t have survived it if it weren’t for him. Once he brought you to the infirmary, he was hyperventilating. He wasn’t ready to leave you alone. And then he collapsed. It was quite severe; he was struggling to breathe. But now he’s resting; he will probably get better, I guess. He is fearless. And Brave……
The doctor uttered those words as if Amy would shoot him between the eyebrows if he spoke anything unnecessary. He wanted to escape from Amy’s vicinity as soon as possible. The dark aura emanating from her was suffocating him; he wanted to run away.
Doctor: I think I should take my leave.
With that, the doctor left the room briskly, leaving her and Jay alone. She sighed, her uninjured arm raising to rake her hair through her fingers, gripping her locks tightly in frustration. She groaned out of regret. Her eyes darted to the ceiling, reprimanding her actions. She was foolish at times.
Her eyes dropped back at Jay, who lay motionless on the bed; the room was festered with feathery silence, the only sound being the soft breaths that parted from Jay’s lips.
Amy continued to stare at Jay, devouring his features and feeling his slow breaths as his chest rose and fell every time he took a breath. Her hand rested on his chest, right above his heart, feeling his heartbeats under her palm.
It wasn’t fast like she had felt it a week ago. Fast, feverish, racing. It was calm with a surreal rhythm until she felt his heart pick up pace; it had turned feral. Her brown irises drifted to his face; she found him frowning in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowing. His lips parted with low, broken gasps escaping to the air, hands fisting the sheets. A layer of perspiration formed on his forehead.
“Don’t leave…Please…”
She heard the low whispers in the broken gasps that escaped his lips. His words would barely have made sense if she hadn’t been attentively listening.
Her hands cupped his jaw.
Amy: Doctor?
She uttered, not sure of what needed to be done in such a situation.
Amy: Doctor… Wake up… It’s a bad dream...
She found him mumbling something brokenly in his sleep.
Amy: Come back to me...Doctor...
She jerked his shoulders, trying to bring him back to consciousness. Until his eyes snapped open, he sat up, hands shooting up at Amy, grabbing her by her arms. His blue glistening orbs met her brown ones, chest heaving as he breathed heavily. Without giving her another moment to comprehend the situation, he latched onto her.
His arms yanked her closer to him, holding her in his embrace. He dipped his nose, nuzzling on the crook of her neck as he took her scent. His nostrils flared while his heart thudded harder.
Amy stood flustered at the position; this was the second time Jay had pulled her to his lap. He looked as if he were drowning in the ocean, and Amy was his only anchor. His only support.
Amy: Breathe...Doctor...It’s fine.
She tried to say words of assurance, not sure if it was of any help.
Jay, on the other hand, held her captive, his face dug in the crook of her neck, while his hands clutched her waist and back, holding her tightly as if she'd disappear.
He snuggled his face on her collarbone, his breathing slowly turning to normal but yet his heartbeats thumped against his ribcage. Amy could feel his racing heartbeats against hers and heaving breaths on her skin as she malfunctioned. She didn’t move an inch under his touch, her mind dazed, yet those foreign emotions clouded her mechanical brain.
Jay: God, Amy. I almost lost you. You’re safe.
He mumbled against her neck, lips touching her skin, his grip turning even tighter as he tried to bring Amy even closer than she already was, until he heard her hiss.
The bandaged wound near her shoulder caught his attention, an inch below her collarbone. He grew cautious, not wanting to worsen her injury. He slowly pulled away, finding Amy partly on his lap, her shirt missing, only left with a tube top with layers of gauze going across her shoulder and torso. He didn’t let her go completely; his hands rested on her waist, mindlessly caressing her skin, feeling her scars.
On the other hand, Amy felt shivers down her spine. Her breath hitched; only she knew how much his touch affected her. She swallowed, clearing her throat.
Amy: Bad dream?
She asked, to which he nodded.
Amy: What was it?
She whispered, her fingers unconsciously raking over his messy bangs, fixing them.
Jay: About losing you. In that building. That car crash. It was terrifying. I couldn’t bring you back.
His voice trembled, making her heart clench.
Jay: If I hadn’t gotten you out of the car in time, I would have regretted it all my life. I wouldn’t have survived this time. I cannot afford to lose you twice. I would die.
He exhaled, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and his heart heavy. He couldn’t contain himself. The mere broken promise of hers had eaten him inside all these two years. He was sure, if he lost her this time, he would perish.
On the other hand, Amy sat still, her mind rattling. His words dawned over her conscience. She could feel the weight behind his words gnawing at her. Those syllables held the same vulnerability she had once.
When she had found his car burning from the CCTV footage on the very day she was declared dead to the world, two years ago, she had felt the same regret and dread gnawing at her. That day was a nightmare for her. She had blamed herself.
She was blinded by revenge, ready to tear anyone and everyone into pieces who was responsible for it. She had lost her sense of self; she had become a monster until she luckily found Jay’s tracking device, which indicated a foreign location. It brought her back, but the raw, unyielding fact sliced through her like a knife. She had gotten Jay into danger because of her. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t let her presence, her deeds, and her sins affect his life. But all of her efforts were futile.
Even though she survived the blast from the building that day, she never planned on coming back. She wanted him to live in peace. Away from her troublesome life, away from a monster whose sins clawed her insides. The blood on her hands would never wash away.
It was hard to push him away. Her heart yearned for him, yet she had been resilient. But all of her sacrifices seemed like a waste at the moment. She had made him suffer nonetheless. She had broken him. Looking at Jay’s vulnerable self crushed her. She thought she did the right thing, but instead, she took away everything from his life.
Jay: How did you get shot? What happened to your hands?
His voice made her snap back to reality as his gaze dropped to her wound, and his hand rested on her bandaged one.
She gulped.
Amy: Just a silly mission. Nothing bad.
She didn’t meet his eyes, already knowing the look of disbelief and disapproval crossing his face.
Jay: Silly mission, huh? You dared to bring on this stupid challenge right after getting shot. It wasn’t even healed! Your stitches got ripped. You could have suffered a concussion from the crash, but luckily, the crash wasn’t severe. You risked it all for a silly race! And Jesus, how did your car even crash?
He growled, his rage hot and boiling, while Amy kept looking at her lap, not meeting his gaze, like a child being scolded by a parent. She didn’t look up.
There was a deep, tantalising silence. His eyes flickered with realisation.
Jay: Wait a damn minute…. Don’t you fucking tell me this was a part of some shitty plan of yours. Did you deliberately crash your car?
His voice pierced through the tension in the room. Jay roared, glowering, his eyes shooting daggers at Amy, who kept looking at her lap. One thing he knew about Amy was that she had an insane level of control over cars.
He had seen her drive on edgy hills and pull up drifts and stunts with such speed and never lose an ounce of control on it. This wasn’t any unfortunate day or anything due to her injury.
This was a damned plan to stop him from winning against her. His brain struck him with a vivid memory while prepping: the usage of an excessive amount of fuel. It not only slowed down a car’s performance but was also hazardous if the engine caught fire. He knew she could go to any lengths to win. But this was worse. She had risked herself just to stop him. He was mortified.
His blood boiled. Hating the fact that playing with life was Amy’s style of conquering, by hook or by crook. If she couldn’t win, then she wouldn’t let him win either.
Jay: Look at me!
His voice boomed as Amy gulped, slowly meeting his eyes.
Jay: This must be a trait of yours. Isn’t it? You like seeing me panic to death, don’t you? ... Speak!
He raged, gritting his teeth; his fingers gripped her jaw firmly but tenderly enough not to bruise her skin.
Amy: Uhh... I mean... I didn’t mean to faint; that wasn’t a part of the plan. Maybe it was blood loss after the shot. I just wanted to get you out of the car. I’m sorry.
She muttered to herself while Jay shook his head in disbelief, even more furious with the crap of an explanation Amy had delivered.
He let out a half-laugh, placing Amy away from his lap. He rose to his feet.
Jay: You're maddening.
He seethed.
His knees buckled from exhaustion and drained energy; he took a few staggering steps after finding his balance. While Amy kept her guilty eyes on him, looking like a lost puppy.
Jay: Get ready; I’m dropping you home.
He asserted firmly, not looking back at her. His voice sounded like a command rather than a statement.
Amy stood stunned; she had never seen Jay so angry. But the fact was rubbed in her face again: she was the sole cause of trouble for him. She sighed, not sure if she had made progress or had made the situation even worse.
Amy sat in the passenger seat beside Jay, who was now driving after forcing her to lend him her car keys. She had insisted on driving, and all Jay did was give a deadly glare; that was enough for an answer to shut her up.
Jay: Where do I drop you?
He asked; the anger from his voice subsided a little this time, but it was still stern.
Amy: Our home.
She spoke in a tiny voice, anticipating his reaction.
Jay: What?
He snapped, sighing the next moment, controlling his flaring anger. Not understanding what she was playing at.
Jay: You see, you aren’t my wife anymore, Ms. Maria. You’re dead. - My late wife.
He mocked.
Amy: But I did win the challenge. So I can ask whatever I want from you. And I want to stay at our home.
She spoke with confidence this time.
Her audacious words made him abruptly kill the car’s engine as he looked at her.
Jay: What do you mean? It’s a tie. You didn’t win the race either.
He inquired, brows furrowing with confusion.
Amy: Who said the race was about me winning?
She revealed.
It made him delve into his thoughts, his brain rewinding to her words.
“You’ll need to make 10 laps of the circuit in 20 minutes. If you make 10 laps in 20 minutes, you get to have whatever you ask from me, but if you don’t, then I get to have whatever I ask from you.”
She. Had. Played. With. Words!
It wasn’t about a race against her in the first place. It was only about him and only him completing 10 laps of the circuit in 20 minutes. It didn’t matter if she won the race or completed 10 laps before him; the bet was only about him completing 10 laps. She was successful in making him lose. He felt his blood boiling and nerves raging to go on a rampage and raise hell. He was done for. But he chose a way more lethal weapon—words.
Jay: Goodness! I didn’t know you would stoop that low just to win a mere challenge. You twisted your words! Well, news flash: I am not surprised. After all, you belong to the underworld; this must have been child's play for you.
His jaw flexed, eyes holding menace, and it was lethal enough to offend her. The air shifted in the car. The very next moment, he felt her tone darken.
Amy: Doctor, don’t talk as if you don’t have blood on your hands; you’re just good at plotting and hiding it. If we set aside our strategies and skills, we are on the same level of insanity, even though you were a doctor and I was in the mafia. You are just as crazy as me.
Her words came slowly and precisely, a dark gleam flickering through her irises, wanting to see his reaction.
Jay: How so?
He challenged, testing the waters. He knew Amy had dug into his background after all, but how deep the information went was yet to be revealed.
Amy: You did let a few famous personalities die at your hand. Politicians, celebrities. They were pedophiles, rapists, and murderers who made the innocent suffer. Even though they were under criminal charges and under your care for treatment, you let them die. It's a surprise the investigators couldn't catch a thing and missed such a happening under your ward.
She kept her words slow with provocation; her brown orbs grew eager to capture the minutest of reactions on his face.
But he didn’t look away either. His lips curled, mirroring her smirk.
Jay: I didn’t kill them by myself, so my hands are free from blood. And I didn’t kill any innocents, unlike you.
He stated nonchalantly.
Amy: Yes, you let them die. And I didn’t kill any innocents either; it’s self-defence, you see.
Amy smirked back at him.
Jay: I knew you had dug up, but damn, that spy of yours must be a high profiler.
He adjusted his glasses as he spoke, amused. Turning on the engine, he gripped the steering wheel and accelerated.
Jay had maintained his polite image of a dutiful doctor all this time, apart from searching for evidence of his grandma’s death and the unfair practices being performed at the hospital, the related organisations. He had staged those plotted deaths as unfortunate tragedies that occurred in life, and he hadn’t left a trace.
Yet the patterns of deaths in his ward were questionable, which officials were fools not to notice. He had plotted fairly well to cut off chances of following up on any leads. And many times, his longtime nemesis/secret friend Max had helped make it happen.
Amy: Tell me, Conor, we are a match, aren’t we?
She gave an eerie smile, looking out of the window.
Jay: Can't say no anymore, can I?
He smiled.
Amy: So now we’re going home. Am I forgiven?
His smile dropped instantly.
Jay: No.
There was silence again. But the word ‘no’ had wrenched Amy’s guts.
Jay: Why do you want to go home?
He noticed how she referred to their marital house as their home. A word that made his heart soften.
Amy: I want to sleep. The villa is far away from the mainland.
She answered.
Jay: You could go to the mansion (The Divas).
Amy: It’s yours. Your wife is dead with a will, remember?
The mention of her death made his chest tighten.
Jay: Well, I also got a new fiancé.
He interrupted, wanting to divert her attention.
Amy: Wow, that’s fast!
She stated, amused.
Jay: What will you do now? I might marry her in a few months.
He spoke in a playful tone, not meaning any of his words. He just wanted to tease Amy.
Amy's ears perked up at the news as she stared outside the window.
Amy: Who’s she?
Jay: Emma.
Amy: That clingy colleague of yours.
She sulked, unable to hide her annoyance anymore.
Jay: Hmm.
Amy: Well, tell her to look out for me.
Jay: Why?
Amy: I’ll ask her to leave, and if she doesn’t. She dies.
Jay: You’ll be threatening my fiancée? Why? Didn’t you say I should reserve my first kiss for a special person? Can't break my promise, unlike someone. Also, isn’t your sole purpose to achieve just my forgiveness and repent for your sins?
He teased and mocked further. Amy remembered the drunken words that she had told him after the divorce; she sat flustered, heat creeping up her ears from embarrassment as Jay secretly stifled a laugh.
Amy: Well, I can be that special person. You promised me a kiss, if you remember.
She retorted.
Jay: Oh, too bad, the offer is no longer valid.
He chided.
The silly banter came to a halt as the car finally pulled up to their home. Amy stepped out of the door, nostalgia hitting in waves as she looked at their house, which she hadn’t realised had became her home, and she didn’t even realise when it happened.
Her feet dragged her towards the door. Her eyes bored into the plants on the porch, which Jay had cherished the most. Talking to them as if they were humans.
She smiled at the memory. Jay unlocked the door, and as she followed him, she found the house in the same condition it was in before. She expected it to be dusty and abandoned over the span of two years, but it was as neat and organised as before.
Amy: It’s the same as before. You didn’t leave?
Jay: I had been away for some time, but I now live here. I couldn’t make up my mind to leave.
Amy was speechless, wanting to ask why he was holding onto something that hurt him the most.
The evening and night were spent cooking a light dinner, with Jay not letting her do any of the chores; instead, he made her sit near the kitchen counter.
She finally found herself having a civil conversation with Jay after all those months of hate rants. She admired him while he cooked; a peaceful silence lingered between them. The dinner went with peace, with their silly banters in between. Jay had long forgotten his anger towards her from the afternoon.
The moon shone bright in the night sky. Amy wandered upstairs, her feet coming to a stop near her room. She walked inside, finding the sheets ruffled and looked around. She was quick to figure out that Jay had been staying in her room instead of his.
She stood a few steps away from the bed, zoning out, her mind buffering, as she tried to process the information, being unaware of Jay’s presence behind her. She felt overwhelmed by the memories as Jay stood near the entrance of her room, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed on his chest.
Amy: Where should I sleep?
She sensed him behind her.
Jay: I don’t know.
He teased knowingly while keeping his tone clipped.
Jay: The couch downstairs would be a better option.
He added curtly, to which she rolled her eyes.
Amy: You’re so cruel to an injured patient like me, Doctor.
Jay: You kinda deserve it.
He playfully spoke.
Amy: Well, very bad. I’ll rest in my designated room and use the authority as your late wife. Consider me a ghost.
She declared.
Jay: Suit yourself.
He replied, stalking towards her bed as he lay on it. Making himself comfortable on the bed, he tucked himself under the blankets, leaving Amy dumbstruck. But she didn’t falter. Instead, she walked to the other side of the bed, beside Jay, and made herself comfortable as she lay beside him.
Turning on her uninjured arm, she backfaced Jay, who had his mouth gape open at her audacity and stubbornness. One thing Jay knew was that she couldn’t sleep without pills, or rather, him holding her to sleep. But he wasn’t sure if it was the same after two years.
None of them spoke, pretending to sleep, but both of them were wide awake. 20 minutes had passed, and he felt her shift now and then. Even though his eyes were closed, he felt her peek at him.
Jay: Just sleep.
Jay mumbled to Amy, who was facing away from him, pretending to be asleep.
He didn’t hear her reply.
Jay: Arrogant woman.
With that, he pulled her back by her waist, tugging her closer to him. She didn’t react except for a small gasp that left her lips. She didn’t turn to look at him. His arm wrapped around her waist, fingers slid under her shirt, gliding against her bare skin. He felt her choking on her breath, a broken gasp. He didn’t move his fingers for a moment, wanting her to react or push him away, but neither happened.
Jay: Push me away if you are uncomfortable, or a simple no. I won’t be stopping.
He brought his face against her nape, whispering in her ear, making it tickle. Nuzzling his face against her soft hair, he fondled the skin of her waist. He knew she was awake; a sly smile crept on his lips. He noticed her stiffening posture; her body was alarming, reacting to his every touch. But she didn’t refuse or deny his touch.
He continued to stroke her skin, tracing the scars on her waist and midriff. She took a sharp breath, her bandaged hand finally reaching to hold his arm in a grip that didn’t suffocate out of ruthlessness, but it sought support; her hold was far more gentle and tender. She didn’t push his hand away; her fingers wrapped gently, resting around his arm, letting his fingers stroke her scars and trace soothing circles on her skin.
He noticed her tense shoulders finally relaxing, her body leaning back against his front. He felt her heart racing through her back; it had gone feral like his, and he was sure she could feel his too.
Both remained in peaceful silence while Jay continued to fondle Amy’s waist; their wild heartbeats matched in rhythm and pace. After a few minutes, Jay found her breathing pattern had changed to one she had when she was asleep. He smiled at her antics, unsure if he could keep up his act of hatred towards her.
He sucked a sharp breath, wondering about his actions. What was he even doing? He had sworn to keep the woman away from his life; instead, he was now in the same bed as her, yearning, holding her as if she were his anchor to whatever sanity was left in him. Hell, he even tried provoking her. He exhaled, his eyes drooping as he snuggled against her, falling into deep slumber.
The next morning, Jay found himself alone on the bed; his hand ruffled the other side of the bed, feeling the emptiness, and his eyes fluttered open. His head was heavy with slumber, yet when he found Amy was not by his side, his haziness had shaken off. He checked the bathroom only to find it empty; washing his face and brushing his teeth, he finally made his way downstairs, expecting Amy to be in the drawing room. He descended the stairs, a delicious fragrance filling his nostrils.
It was pancakes.
He reached the kitchen, finding Amy flipping another pancake. Her clothes were changed; she had worn one of his outfits. A white shirt, grey pants, and an apron. Her hair was damp, which meant she had just showered. He was dumbstruck; she had escaped death just yesterday, had survived a crash, had gotten shot, had gotten her stitches ripped, and she was now making pancakes with the very arm close to her injured shoulder. She was whistling and enjoying herself rather than resting and staying in bed with him. It made him mad.
He entered the kitchen, finally grabbing Amy’s attention, who hadn’t noticed his presence.
Amy: Morning, doctor.
She placed a plate of freshly cooked pancakes, topping it up with butter and honey the way he liked it. He felt his anger melting away, but the concern and worry still lingered.
Jay: You should have rested instead of stressing your injury early in the morning.
He grumbled in a raspy voice, fragments of slumber still lingering as he abandoned the plate Amy had placed in front of him and helped her with fruit juices and made coffee the way she liked it. Meanwhile, Amy made herself comfortable on the kitchen counter, diving into her pancakes as she admired him. Jay continued to complete the chores, finally drifting closer to Amy and placing her coffee while he served himself fruit juice.
There was silence tinged with tension that engulfed both of them until Amy lifted a forkful of pancake against his lips.
Amy: Have some.
She requested.
Jay glanced at the fork and was hit with a vivid memory of the next morning after their marriage; she had stuffed his mouth with pancake because he had thrown a tantrum at her.
He smiled at the memory, parting his lips willingly, eating the offered pancake off the fork.
Amy: What’s your plan for the day?
Jay: I’ll be visiting the orphanage.
Amy: I’ll tag along then.
Jay opened his mouth to refuse her, but he couldn’t risk leaving her alone. She had been missing for one week and returned with a gunshot wound; she survived a crash just yesterday. And he wasn’t sure what she would do out of boredom if he left her alone now. He couldn’t take chances, so he agreed to take her along.
The drive to the orphanage had been peaceful. Jay had acted civilly towards her, not wanting to worsen any of her injuries or let her mind wander into any risky ideas. They passed through the gates of the orphanage, slowly driving in towards the parking lot. Jay found Amy staring out the window.
Jay: What are you looking at?
He questioned out of curiosity.
Amy: Why are there so many people with flowers? It looks like a funeral. Did someone die?
She mumbled, looking keenly at the people arriving.
Jay: Shit!
Jay exclaimed, fishing his cellphone out of the dashboard’s cabinet; he flicked the screen on and checked the date.
Amy: What’s wrong?
She looked at him while he panicked.
Jay: It’s your death anniversary.
