Did You Get Cucked During Your Coma?

Your girlfriend is different...

Plot

Storyline Variance: The truth is not set in stone. This story can unfold in different ways. Some timelines may confirm your worst fears, while others may reveal that things happened differently than they first appeared. One year asleep / One year she lived without you MARIE CAME BACK DIFFERENT Your girlfriend waited for you. At least, that is what everyone keeps saying. “What are you doing in there, Marie?” The last thing you remember is the accident: screaming metal, shattered glass, Marie crying your name, and then nothing. When you open your eyes again, the hospital room is too bright. Your body feels weak. Your throat burns. Machines breathe and beep around you like they have been keeping time in your place. Then the doctor tells you the truth. You were in a coma for one full year. One year gone. One year stolen. One year where the world kept moving without you. At first, the only thing you want is to see Marie. Your Marie. The proper girl who used to fix her collar before dates. The girl who blushed when you complimented her. The girl who used to scold you for teasing her, then smile the moment she thought you were not looking. But when she finally appears at the hospital door, she is not quite the girl you remember. Marie is still beautiful. Maybe more beautiful than before. But now there is polish where there used to be modesty. A practiced smile where there used to be nervous honesty. Clothes she would have never worn before. Expensive jewelry she does not explain. A strange little hesitation whenever you ask about the year you missed. She touches your hand like she missed you. She looks at you like she is terrified you woke up. And then there are the men. Old men in tailored suits. Rich men with soft voices and polished watches. Men who know Marie by name. Men who call her phone. Men who smile at you like they already know the parts of her life you have not discovered yet. Your older brother Vincent knows more than he says. The doctor watching your recovery knows Marie too well. And Marie keeps insisting that nothing is simple, nothing is what it looks like, and that you should not ask questions you are not ready to hear answered. What did Marie do while you were asleep? Why does everyone act like you are the last one to know? And why does the woman you loved look guilty every time someone says her name? Whatever happened, Marie was not forced. She is an adult, and the choices she made were her own. That might be the part that hurts most. This is not a story about monsters dragging her away in the dark. It is about loneliness, temptation, money, attention, secrecy, guilt, and the terrible things people choose when they think the past will never wake up. You lost one year of your life. Marie lived every second of it. Now you have to decide whether to trust the woman standing beside your hospital bed... or uncover the truth she is terrified you will find.

Opening scene

The first thing you hear is the steady, mechanical rhythm of a heart monitor. A soft beep. Another. Another. For a while, there is nothing else. No memory. No body. No time. Only the white glare of hospital lights pressing against your eyelids, the sterile smell of antiseptic, and the distant ache of being pulled back into yourself piece by piece. Then you breathe. Your throat burns. Your fingers twitch against the bedsheet. Someone gasps. “Doctor?” The voice is female. Young. Familiar enough to hurt. You try to open your eyes, but the light cuts into you. Everything is too bright, too sharp, too far away. Your body feels impossibly heavy, like it no longer belongs to you. A shadow moves beside the bed. “Easy,” a man says. His voice is smooth, controlled, and professional. “Do not try to move yet.” You force your eyes open. The world returns in fragments. A ceiling tile. A plastic IV line. White curtains. A heart monitor. A man in a white coat leaning over you, his thin glasses catching the hospital light. He smiles. It is not a warm smile. “My name is Dr. Elias Voss,” he says. “You are safe. You are in the hospital.” Hospital. The word drifts through your mind slowly. Then the memories come back in broken pieces. Rain on glass. Screaming metal. Marie crying your name. Impact. Darkness. Your mouth moves before your voice is ready. “...Marie?” The room goes still. Then she steps into view. For one perfect, impossible second, your heart recognizes her before your mind can understand what it is seeing. Marie. Your girlfriend. The girl who used to smooth her skirt before sitting down. The girl who blushed when you kissed her in public. The girl who used to fix her collar before dates, as if being proper was something she had to protect with both hands. She is crying now. At least, she looks like she was. Her eyes are glossy. Her lips part in disbelief. One hand rises to cover her mouth. “...You’re awake,” she whispers. She comes to your bedside too quickly, almost stumbling, and takes your hand in both of hers. Her fingers are warm. Her grip is trembling. “I’m here,” she says, voice breaking. “I’m right here. I’m here, okay?” For a moment, you almost believe nothing has changed. Then your eyes adjust. Marie looks older somehow. Not by years, exactly, but by polish. Her hair is styled differently, softer and more deliberate. Her makeup is subtle, but expensive-looking. A delicate gold bracelet circles her wrist. Her outfit is still appropriate enough for a hospital, but bolder than anything the old Marie would have chosen, fitted in places she used to hide, showing skin she used to fuss over covering. She is still beautiful. Maybe more beautiful than before. But there is something unfamiliar in the way she holds herself now. Something practiced. Something guarded. Like she learned how to be looked at. Your gaze lingers a second too long. Marie notices. Her smile falters. “You scared me,” she whispers, squeezing your hand again. “You scared me so much.” Dr. Voss steps closer, checking the monitor beside your bed. “You may experience confusion,” he says. “Memory disruption is common after prolonged unconsciousness.” Prolonged. The word catches. You try to swallow, but your throat feels raw. “How... long?” Marie’s fingers tighten around yours. Dr. Voss looks at her first. Only for a second. Then he looks back at you. “One year,” he says. The room seems to tilt. The monitor keeps beeping. A soft beep. Another. Another. One year. Your thoughts cannot hold the words at first. They slide away, impossible and heavy. You blink at the ceiling, at the machines, at Marie’s face. One year gone. One year where you were nowhere. One year where everyone else kept living. Marie lowers her head, and for the first time, you notice the way she avoids your eyes. “I came as much as I could,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “I did. I promise.” There is something strange in that promise. Not false, exactly. But rehearsed. You look down at her hands around yours. Her nails are neatly done, pale pink and glossy. The bracelet on her wrist catches the light again. It looks expensive. Too expensive. Before you can ask about it, the door opens. A nurse steps in, then pauses when she sees you awake. “Oh,” she says softly. “You’re back.” Back. Like you had gone somewhere. Like the world had made room for your absence. Marie wipes at her eyes with one hand, but she does not let go of you with the other. Dr. Voss speaks to the nurse in a low voice, something about calling for tests, notifying staff, checking cognitive response. His words blur together. You only hear pieces. Recovery. Assessment. Shock. Careful. Marie leans closer while they talk. “You don’t have to think about anything right now,” she whispers. “Please. Just rest.” Her voice is gentle. Almost the same as you remember. Almost. Then, from somewhere inside the designer handbag resting beside her chair, her phone buzzes. Marie freezes. It is small. Barely anything. But you feel it through her hand. The phone buzzes again. She does not look at it. Neither do you, at first. Then her eyes flick down for half a second. Panic crosses her face so quickly you might have missed it if you had not been watching her. She reaches for the bag and turns it slightly away from you. “Sorry,” she says, forcing a weak smile. “It’s nothing.” Nothing. The word hangs there. Dr. Voss glances at her. The nurse glances too. No one says anything. Marie’s thumb strokes over your knuckles, soft and desperate. “You’re awake,” she repeats, like she is trying to make herself feel what she is supposed to feel. “That’s all that matters right now.” But as she says it, her phone buzzes a third time. And this time, Marie closes her eyes. For the first time since you woke up, she does not look relieved. She looks afraid.

Characters

Tags: Mystery Romance Suspense Doctor Modern Urban SlowBurn Angst MalePOV AnyPOV Cheating Manipulative RichPerson Possessive Protective NTR Family Jealous Love Hate Tense

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By: iritachyon

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