#herdevil

slow, dull aching radiates through every bone and ligament holding the femmes frame together. nights spent cooped up on the hospital rooms sad excuse for a couch are to blame, but cristela pushes the pain to the back of her mind and focuses instead on the rapid beating of her heart. she cant discern between the feelings of excitement, concern, and unwavering hope. 'his body will make a steady recovery, but his memory..' the doctors melancholy tone plays in her mind each time she comes to watch over him. shes never really been able to see his lapse in memory face to face. there werent enough hours in the day for manning the shops front office, or sitting through another hour-long lecture. yet she finds herself in a familar room, weight shifting to lean against the threshold like clockwork as she knock on the solid wood. 'this is what love is.' she reminds herself as she watches him ready himself for their venture back to their small, shared home.

"they must see a lot of progess then, hmm?" cadence is soft when cristela speaks, head tilting to try to get a better look at him. "are you okay with that? i know they said you're doing better... but how are you really feeling?" a question that has the potential to tear her to shreds. he hasnt shown a sign that he remembers her, quiet utterance hardly an indicator of a returning memory. he hasn't shown her that he hasn't yet, either. and so she remains in her relaxed position with hues set intently on the blond.