A New Sensation: A Sci-Fi Romance Story About a Blind Woman and Her Doctor #Whatdoyousee #WDYS

She had always loved the view from her cabin. The lush green hills, the sparkling blue lake, the clear sky dotted with clouds. She had built this place with her own hands, a refuge from the chaos of the city, a sanctuary for her soul.

She had come here after the accident, the one that had taken everything from her. Her husband, her daughter, her career, her dreams. She had survived, but barely. She had lost her sight, her hearing, her sense of touch. She had become a prisoner in her own body, unable to communicate with anyone, unable to feel anything.

She had given up hope, until she met him. He was a doctor, a specialist in neural implants. He had offered her a chance, a risky experimental procedure that could restore her senses, at least partially. He had warned her of the possible side effects, the pain, the confusion, the hallucinations. She had zero drawbacks, and infinite benefits.

She had agreed, and he had performed the surgery. He had implanted tiny electrodes in her brain, connected to a device that could stimulate her sensory cortex. He had given her a remote control, a simple switch that could turn the device on or off. He had told her to use it sparingly, to avoid overloading her system.

She had followed his instructions, at first. She had turned on the device, and felt a surge of sensations. She had seen colors, shapes, movements. She had heard sounds, voices, music. She had felt textures, temperatures, pressures. She had cried, laughed, screamed. She experienced a surge of vitality, the likes of which she hadn’t felt in ages.

She had thanked him, profusely. He had smiled, gently. He had told her to be careful, to not get addicted. He had told her to come back for regular check-ups, to monitor her progress. He expressed his fondness for her, fondness that was unwarranted.

She had felt something for him, too. A gratitude, a friendship, a spark. She had wondered if he could be more than her doctor, more than her savior. She had wondered if he could be her lover, her partner, her new life.

She had turned off the device, and waited for him to call. He had called, every day, at first. He had asked her how she was, how she felt, what she saw. He had told her he missed her, he wanted to see her, he loved her. She had felt the same, and told him so.

She had turned on the device, and waited for him to come. He had come, every week, at first. He had brought her flowers, chocolates, books. He had kissed her, hugged her, made love to her. He had told her he was happy, he was proud, he was hers. She had felt the same, and told him so.

She had turned off the device, and waited for him to leave. He had left, every time, reluctantly. He had said he had to go, he had work, he had responsibilities. He had promised her he would be back, he would call, he would never forget. She had felt the same, and told him so.

She had turned on the device, and waited for him to return. He had returned, every month, then every year, then never. He had stopped calling, stopped coming, stopped caring. He had broken his promises, his vows, his heart. He had left her alone, again.

She had felt betrayed, angry, hurt. She had called him, yelled at him, cursed him. She had told him he was a liar, a coward, a bastard. She had told him she hated him, she wished he was dead, she never wanted to see him again.

She had turned off the device, and waited for him to apologize. He had never apologized, never explained, never said goodbye. He had moved on, with his life, his work, his new wife. He had forgotten her, ignored her, erased her.

She had felt nothing, numb, empty. She had stopped calling, stopped yelling, stopped cursing. She had told herself he was gone, he was history, he was nothing. She had told herself she didn’t need him, she didn’t love him, she didn’t miss him.

She had turned on the device, and waited for something to change. Nothing had changed, nothing had improved, nothing had mattered. She had seen the same view, heard the same silence, felt the same void. She had cried the same tears, laughed the same mockery, screamed the same agony. She had felt dead, for the last time.

She had decided to end it, to stop it, to finish it. She had packed her bags, left her cabin, drove her car. She had reached the bridge, the edge, the end. She had turned off the device, and jumped.

She had expected to die, to fall, to drown. She had not died, not fallen, not drowned. She had landed, softly, gently, safely. She had opened her eyes, and seen him.

He had been there, waiting, watching, hoping. He had caught her, saved her, held her. He had told her he was sorry, he was wrong, he was back. He had told her he loved her, he needed her, he wanted her.

She had felt something, a shock, a doubt, a hope. She had looked at him, his face, his eyes, his smile. He had looked the same, but different, older, wiser. He had told her he had changed, he had learned, he had grown.

She had asked him why, how, when. He had told her why he had left, how he had regretted, when he had realized. He had told her he had been afraid, he had been selfish, he had been stupid. He had told her he had made a mistake, he had suffered, he had come back.

She had listened to him, his words, his voice, his sincerity. He had sounded honest, genuine, remorseful. He had told her he had a gift, a surprise, a miracle. He had told her he had a cure, a solution, a new device.

She had wondered what it was, how it worked, what it did. He had told her it was a new implant, a better one, a safer one. He had told her it could restore her senses, fully, permanently, naturally. He had told her it could make her see, hear, feel, without any side effects, without any pain, without any switch.

She had been amazed, curious, skeptical. She had asked him if it was true, if it was possible, if it was real. He had told her it was true, it was possible, it was real. He had told her he had tested it, he had perfected it, he had used it.

She had been surprised, shocked, incredulous. She had asked him if he had used it, on himself, on others, on her. He had told her he had used it, on himself, on others, on her. He had told her he had implanted it, in his brain, in their brains, in her brain.

She had been confused, scared, angry. She had asked him when he had done it, how he had done it, why he had done it. He had told her he had done it, when she had jumped, how he had caught her, why he had saved her. He had told her he had done it, to help her, to heal her, to show her.

She had felt something, a tingling, a warmth, a sensation. She had realized he had turned it on, the new device, the new implant, the new sensation. She had realized he had given her a choice, a chance, a new life.

She had looked at him, his face, his eyes, his smile. He had looked at her, her face, her eyes, her smile. He had asked her if she could see him, hear him, feel him. He had asked her if she wanted to live with him, love him, be with him.

She had seen him, heard him, felt him. She had wanted to live with him, love him, be with him. She had told him yes, yes, yes.

He had smiled, kissed her, hugged her. He had told her he was happy, he was grateful, he was hers. He had told her they could go back, to her cabin, to their home, to their view.

She had smiled, kissed him, hugged him. She had told him she was happy, she was thankful, she was his. She had told him they could go back, to her cabin, to their home, to their view.

They had gone back, to her cabin, to their home, to their view. They had stood in the doorway, her arms holding the two flaps of the door open, facing the view of nature outside. At the top of the image, they had seen a skylight showing more of the view from the outside.

They had seen the view, the hills, the lake, the sky. They had heard the sounds, the birds, the wind, the water. They had felt the sensations, the sun, the breeze, the grass. They had felt alive, for the first time, together.

#WhatDoYouSee #WDYS