Adultery Innocent Housewife Tricked by Luck By Chance

[Luck by chance]

Chapter 5 - Luck By Chance

The name hung in the air between them. Mr. Gupta. Ravi looked from the doctor to the unconscious woman on the bed, his wife in the doctor's eyes, his prize in his own. A strange, powerful feeling surged through him, a dark thrill mixed with a terrifying sense of responsibility. He stood up, his face a mask of grim concern, and walked towards the doctor.

The corridor's sterile white walls seemed to close in on Ravi as he followed the doctor, the man's sympathetic eyes a stark contrast to the storm raging in his own chest. The doctor gestured towards a small consultation room, away from the prying ears of nurses and the worried whispers of other families. "Mr. Gupta," he began, his voice a low, confidential murmur. "Please, sit." Ravi sat, his body rigid. "Your employer is stable, as I said. The concussion is significant, but there's no swelling, no bleed. We're very optimistic about a full physical recovery." He paused, choosing his words with care. "However, during our examination, we noticed something... unusual. She's awake now, but she's... disoriented. It appears the impact has caused a specific type of amnesia." Ravi's heart hammered against his ribs. "Amnesia?" "Yes," the doctor confirmed, tapping his pen against the chart. "She remembers things. She knows her name is Ankita. She knows she has a son named Arjun. She understands relationships, the concept of a husband, a home. But the faces... the faces are gone. She can't connect the person to the relationship. It's a rare form of retrograde amnesia, often associated with trauma to the temporal lobe." Ravi was stunned, his mind a blank slate. He stared at the doctor, the words washing over him but failing to form a coherent thought. She doesn't remember faces. The phrase echoed in the sudden, cavernous emptiness of his mind. The predator, the schemer, the man who had spent weeks crafting a persona of trust and brotherly affection—all of it vanished, replaced by a profound, earth-shattering shock. "Mr. Gupta? Are you alright?" The doctor's voice cut through the fog. Ravi blinked, his throat dry. "Yes. Yes, doctor. I... I was just... shocked." "Of course," the doctor said, his expression full of professional empathy. "It's a lot to take in. The good news is that this is often temporary. With proper medication, rest, and gentle exposure to familiar people and places, the neural pathways can reconnect. It could take weeks, it could take months, but recovery is very possible." He scribbled on a prescription pad and tore off the sheet. "Here. This is for the inflammation and to help with the headaches. Start her on it tonight. Bring her back in a week for a follow-up." Ravi took the paper, his hand feeling strangely disconnected from his arm. He nodded mechanically. "Thank you, doctor."

He walked back to her private room, his steps slow, deliberate. He pushed the door open quietly. She was awake, sitting up against the pillows, her gaze fixed on the window. Her head was turned, giving him a view of her profile, the delicate curve of her neck, the bruise on her forehead a stark purple against her pale skin. She sensed his presence and turned. Her eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes, met his. They were clear, but they held no recognition. They were the eyes of a stranger looking at a familiar room, searching for an anchor in a sea of confusion.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

Ravi's heart began to pound. He had to know. He had to test the limits of this strange, new reality. He pulled the chair closer to the bed, his face a careful mask of concern. "You don't remember me at all?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Ankita's brow furrowed in concentration. She looked at his face, her eyes scanning his features as if trying to read a map to a forgotten place. "Your face, your voice... it seems very familiar. I feel like I should know you." She paused, a flicker of frustration in her eyes. "But I can't place you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Ravi said, his mind racing. "The doctor said this might happen. Do you... do you remember your husband?"

A shadow passed over her features, a wave of genuine grief that was untainted by a visual memory. "Yes," she whispered, her eyes welling with tears. "I know he's gone. I remember... I remember the pain. The emptiness. I remember he died of a heart attack. But..." she brought a hand to her temple, touching the bruise lightly, "I can't see his face. I can't remember what he looked like. It's like he's a ghost in my heart, but not in my head." She looked back at Ravi, her lost gaze finding a strange comfort in his steady one. "You were there, weren't you? You're connected to me. I feel it."

Ravi's blood ran cold and then hot with a dark, thrilling current. This was better than he could have ever imagined. He wasn't a stranger; he was a familiar void she was desperate to fill. "You need to rest, Ankita," he said, his voice soft and authoritative. "Don't try to force it. The doctor said it will come back." He stood up, tucking the blanket around her. "I'll take care of everything. Just focus on getting better."

He walked out of the room, his steps calm and measured, but inside, a storm was breaking. He stood in the hospital's chaotic lobby, the receipt crumpled in his hand. The bill was real. The responsibility was real. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Arjun's contact. He should call him. He had to call him. The son had a right to know. He pressed the dial button, the phone ringing once, twice... and then he ended the call. The action was impulsive, final. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. The doctor's words echoed in his mind: Gentle exposure to familiar people and places. He was the most familiar person in her life right now. And he would be the only one she saw. The hunt was over. The claiming had begun.