Chapter fifteen
780 Words
A heavy silence settled between us, thick with unsaid words and unspoken truths. I stared at her—the woman claiming to be Max’s fiancée—and tried to grasp the shifting reality around me. The sterile hospital room suddenly felt like a cage, closing in with every breath I took.
She took a step closer, her eyes softened slightly, but her voice remained calm and unwavering. “Look, I know this is a lot to process. But you need to rest and let the doctors do their job. Max is in good hands. You’ll have time to remember everything—”
“Remember what?” I interrupted, voice cracking. “How could I forget *him*? Max is my best friend. My partner. We… we’ve been through everything together. How could I forget someone like him?”
Her expression flickered, a hint of sympathy flashing across her face, but then she quickly masked it. “Memory can be tricky after head injuries. Sometimes it comes back slowly. You just need to be patient.”
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up. “I don’t believe you. I know Max. And I know what I feel. Whatever this is—this ‘fiancée’—it doesn’t change that.”
She hesitated, then gently reached out, placing a hand on my arm. “I’m just trying to help you, sweetheart. Max loves me. We’re meant to be. You’re a part of his past, but not his future.”
The words hit me like a punch. My mind spun, trying to reconcile her words with the image of Max, lying so still, so vulnerable. I looked back at him, feeling an ache in my chest.
Suddenly, a faint beep from the monitor beside Max’s bed broke the quiet. I flinched, instinctively stepping back. The nurse—Sarah—moved to adjust the machine, her face composed.
“Time for your medication,” she said softly. “Rest is important. You need to regain your strength.”
I nodded numbly, my eyes never leaving Max’s face. As Sarah gently smoothed the blanket over him, I felt a strange surge of conflicting emotions—hope, confusion, and a gnawing sense that something wasn’t right.
Once she left the room, I took a cautious step closer again, my gaze fixed on Max. His face was so peaceful, yet I could see the faint lines of pain beneath his closed eyelids. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
“Please come back,” I whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Please remember me.”
And beneath that, a flicker of something else—doubt, perhaps—the feeling that everything I thought I knew was about to change forever.
Night descended quietly over the hospital, shadows stretching long across the sterile walls. The only sounds were the rhythmic beeping of machines and the soft hum of fluorescent lights. I sat vigil by Max’s bedside, my eyes fixed on his tranquil face, trying to hold onto the faint hope that he’d wake up—and that my memories would return.
But a restless feeling gnawed at me, an instinct that something was amiss. The woman claiming to be his fiancée—her words, her tone—they echoed in my mind, but they felt distant, almost like a story I was supposed to believe but couldn’t quite accept.
My gaze drifted to the pillow beside Max’s head. There, partially hidden beneath the crisp sheets, was a small, folded piece of paper. My pulse quickened as I reached out, careful not to disturb him. I unfolded the note, trembling slightly.
Trust no one. The truth is hidden where you least expect.
The words hit me like a shockwave. Who had left it? Max? Someone else? My mind raced, searching for clues, for familiar handwriting, for any sign of who could be trying to send me a message in the darkness.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I looked around the dim room. Shadows danced in the corners, and the silence felt heavier than ever. I realized I was more alone than I’d thought—cut off from the world, from certainty, from the truth.
I pressed the note against my chest, feeling the weight of its warning. My heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination. Whatever secrets this hospital held, whatever shadows lurked in the corners of my fractured memory, I had to uncover them tonight.
Because if I didn’t, I knew I might never truly find out what had happened—and what was waiting for me in the darkness outside these walls.
- Writer
