Chapter 8:Fractured Memories

The world around Sanlang shattered in an instant. The sharp crack of metal striking the back of his skull was the last thing he registered before everything went black. His body collapsed like a ragdoll to the cold ground, limbs sprawled and a soft thud echoing in his ears. His blood pooled beneath him, red-dark against the grey concrete, and the pain was so immense that it seemed to swallow the world around him whole.

He could feel the blood seeping from the wound, his body growing heavier, as if gravity itself had turned against him. A quiet groan escaped his lips, but it was swallowed by the rush of dark void filling his senses. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt weighted, heavy as though a thousand chains held them shut. His thoughts, once clear and sharp, turned into a jumbled mess, fragments of memories drifting like shattered glass.

Then he heard it. A faint voice. A name.

"Sanlang…"

Noor. Her voice—fragile and trembling, as if she were standing far, far away. His heart, battered and bruised, responded instinctively to the sound of it, even as his mind threatened to collapse into oblivion. It felt like a dream. Her voice was the only thread keeping him tethered to life, yet it was slipping through his fingers, fading as the darkness closed in.

"No.no..no..noooooooo.....Sanlang..... please… wake up…Kang"

He tried to move, to reach for her, but his body refused to obey. He couldn't feel his limbs, couldn't breathe deeply enough to push past the suffocating weight. Blood dripped from his skull and stained the ground, the metallic scent sharp in the air. His heart pounded in his chest, but it felt distant, as if the rhythm of his life was out of sync with the world around him.

Noor's voice came again, louder now, desperate. She was closer. "Sanlang, don't leave me."

Something in him stirred at her words, a spark of recognition in the swirling darkness. He wasn't sure if it was her touch or her words, but he felt his pulse quicken. He wanted to wake, to open his eyes and see her face, but the darkness seemed to pull him deeper, and his body refused to cooperate.

As he lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, he caught flashes of images. Memories—his past, their past. They were disjointed, fragmented like pieces of a broken mirror. The sound of her laugh, the way she looked at him—those were the only things that cut through the pain. They were fleeting, always out of reach.

And then… he remembered the crash. The thud of his body hitting the ground after that violent blow to the back of his head. He could feel the coldness of the concrete beneath him, the heat of his blood, the overwhelming sense of fear. But there was something else, too. Something that felt like… peace. Peace that he had never experienced before, even in the darkest corners of his life.

The soft rustle of fabric—the familiar warmth of a hand brushing against his forehead—brought him back, if only for a moment. His eyelids fluttered, but the world remained dark.

"Sanlang…" Noor's voice was now a whisper, full of emotion. Her fingers caressed his face, tracing the lines of his features with tender desperation as tears slipped down her eyes on his cheek "You can't leave me now. Not like this.No again"

Her voice—so full of life and pain—seeped into his consciousness. His chest tightened in response, as though the very sound of it was pulling at the fragile threads of his soul.

She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. He was already slipping away from her, sinking into a chasm of dark emptiness, and no matter how much he tried to hold onto her, the void was pulling him under. He wanted to scream, to tell her that he couldn't bear the thought of her suffering because of him, but his voice was lost, buried beneath the weight of his own body.

The soft rush of her breath against his ear was all he could hear now, and it was the only thing keeping him from fully surrendering to the darkness. His heart swelled with a love for her that he could barely comprehend. Was it too late? Was it too late to tell her everything?

The sounds of footsteps approached, hurried, the clatter of medical equipment breaking through the fragile bubble of silence they shared. Someone shouted his name, but it was distant, muffled by the ringing in his ears. He tried to focus, to grab onto something—anything—but the world spun uncontrollably, his vision blurring.

A rush of cold air hit him as the paramedics arrived, kneeling beside him. They moved quickly, their voices urgent, but none of it mattered to him. He couldn't keep up. His body was fading, a silent witness to the world moving on without him.

"No! Stay with me!" Noor's voice pierced through the chaos, sharp and raw with panic. He could feel her gripping his hand, her warmth mingling with the chill of the air around him. Her touch was steady, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

But the world around him was fading.

Time seemed to stretch, holding its breath. He was barely aware of the paramedics working on him, checking his vitals, trying to stabilize him. His body was a ragged, broken thing. The blood… the pain… it was all too much.

He wanted to speak. He wanted to say something to her, to let her know he was still there, still holding on for her. But words failed him. Instead, his eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments. He met Noor's gaze—her eyes wide, filled with unspeakable fear, the kind of fear that shook him to his core.

She was crying. Her face was streaked with tears, her lips trembling. "Don't leave me…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please… don't leave me."

His heart lurched in his chest, and he fought to find the strength to respond, to reassure her that he wasn't going anywhere. But he couldn't. His vision blurred again, the world spinning faster as the paramedics moved him onto a stretcher, their faces grim as they shouted for more equipment.

"Stay with him," one of them ordered as they wheeled him away. But it was too late. The world was already slipping through his fingers.

---

The hospital was a sterile, white void. Noor sat in the corner of the room, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her heart pounded with a relentless ache, a raw, gnawing pain that refused to go away. He was still alive, but only just. Every breath he took was fragile, every heartbeat a miracle. The doctors had said they would do everything they could, but nothing felt certain anymore.

She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Not after everything. Not after all they had been through.

She was no stranger to pain. She had endured loss before, carried burdens that no one should ever have to bear. But this—this was different. Sanlang had become a part of her in ways she couldn't explain, and to see him like this, broken and lifeless, tore her apart in ways she never imagined.

The doctors had kept her away during the procedures, but now, she was alone with him. The beeping of the machines around him was a constant reminder of the razor-thin line between life and death. She stared at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the pale, sickly hue of his skin, and felt like her world was collapsing around her.

"Please," she whispered to no one in particular. "Please don't take him away from me."

The soft click of the door opening made her look up, and her breath caught in her throat as a figure stepped into the room.

Noor's voice cracked as she tried to compose herself. But it was futile. The floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping the tears now.

The Doctor approached her quietly, her eyes full of sympathy. "He's still with us. You've done everything we can. Now, we wait."

But as Noor watched Sanlang's still form, she couldn't shake the fear that no matter how much they fought, the darkness was always one step ahead. And if it claimed him, she didn't know if she would have the strength to keep going.

The next few days passed in a blur of sterile hospital halls, the constant hum of machines, and the echoing silence in the room where Sanlang lay. His condition fluctuated, but as the hours bled into days, Noor could feel the weight of time pressing down on her. She couldn't leave his side, couldn't imagine a world where she wasn't there, holding his hand and whispering words of encouragement.

But the moment he opened his eyes, something changed.

His gaze was distant, unfocused. And when he looked at her, there was no recognition. No warmth. Only a deep confusion.

"Noor…" he whispered, his voice hoarse, weak. His hand reached for hers, but it was unsteady, uncertain. His eyes flickered with something—fear, perhaps.

She squeezed his hand, trying to fight the panic rising in her chest. "It's me. It's Noor."

But the confusion in his eyes didn't fade. He stared at her, as though seeing her for the first time, and the world seemed to collapse around her once more.

He didn't remember anything.

And that, more than anything, was the hardest thing to bear.

----+++

Sanlang woke in a hospital room, the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with the scent of his own sweat. The beeping of medical equipment was a constant reminder of his present reality. Confusion clouded his mind as he tried to piece together the fragments of his memory. The faces of the doctors and nurses were unfamiliar, their voices a distant murmur as they spoke about his condition.

His producer, who had been informed of his condition, visited him regularly. The producer was supportive, offering reassurance and updates about Sanlang's career. However, his words did little to quell Sanlang's disorientation. The producer explained that Sanlang had been in an accident and had been in a coma for the past three months. He reassured Sanlang that he would be able to resume his career, but the void in Sanlang's memory left him feeling adrift.

Sanlang's frustration grew as he struggled to make sense of his past. The fragments of his memory were like puzzle pieces scattered on the floor, each one a hint of a life he could no longer grasp. He began to question the doctors and his producer, seeking answers to the questions that plagued him.

The doctors explained that the accident had caused severe head trauma, resulting in the loss of recent memories. They assured him that his memory might return over time, but the uncertainty left him feeling anxious and unsettled. Sanlang clung to the hope that he would regain his lost memories, but the process was slow and fraught with challenges.