Chapter 29
Collins
The moment I stepped into the room, Marlon was already with her, finishing his routine rounds.
He was checking her vitals, speaking softly, making notes on her chart.
I’d missed her speech therapy and physio sessions again—my schedule with other patients had clashed, and it ate at me more than I wanted to admit.
“She can form words now,” Marlon said as he walked toward me, lowering his voice.
“She can?” I asked, a rush of relief hitting me.
“Memory seems intact,” he continued. “Half her students from her class came by earlier. She recognized them, remembered names, even joked a little. Not much speech yet—but definite progress.”
I let out a slow breath. “That’s a relief. I guess that means she doesn’t really need me hovering anymore.”
Marlon gave me a look. “It also means she knows you’re around. She progresses faster when you are.”
Before I could answer, voices drifted in from the hallway. Chloe, Tatum, Veronica… and Michael.
“I heard she can talk now,” Michael said as they entered.
“Yes,” Marlon replied. “But go slowly. She’s still fragile.”
They gathered around her bed, Chloe and Tatum on one side, Michael and Veronica on the other. Marlon and I stayed near the doorway, quietly observing.
“Hey, honey,” Michael said, taking her hand. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused.
She looked at him calmly. “Who are you?”
The colour drained from his face.
“I’m your husband,” he said, his voice cracking.
She frowned slightly. “I don’t think I’m married. I would’ve remembered that.”
Marlon and I exchanged a quick glance.
Michael turned to us, panic rising. “Does she have amnesia?”
Before we could answer, Veronica leaned forward. “Do you remember me? I’m your best friend.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t know you.”
We moved closer.
“Let me ask a few questions,” Marlon said. “Do you know who I am?”
“Dr. Branson.”
“And him?” He pointed to me.
She smiled. “Dr. Collins.”
Marlon nodded. “And you’re sure you don’t know your husband… or your best friend?”
“No,” she said simply. “I’ve never seen them before.”
He gestured to Chloe and Tatum. “And them?”
Her face brightened. “Of course I know them. They’re my besties—Chloe and Tatum.”
Michael and Veronica looked stunned.
“We’ll run some tests,” Marlon told them calmly. “See why she remembers only some people.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Michael said.
They stayed a little longer. Michael whispered, “I love you. Take your time. I’ll be here,” before leaving with the others.
Later, her dad, sister, and extended family visited. She recognized everyone, without hesitation. Even old classmates. Nurses. Staff. Routines.
When the room finally quieted, Marlon and I began formal testing—orientation, time, place, situation. She answered everything perfectly.
Patterns were clear.
“She remembers people, events, routines,” I said quietly as we stepped aside. “This isn’t neurological amnesia.”
“Psychological,” Marlon added. “A trauma response.”
“She must’ve heard the betrayal,” I said. “The husband. The friend.”
Marlon nodded slowly. “Then this isn’t forgetting.”
“It’s choosing,” I added.
She’s not broken, she’s protecting herself and I’ve never been prouder of her.
When the room finally went quiet and it was just Marlon and me, I moved closer to her bed. The lights were dimmed, machines humming softly, the whole place wrapped in that late-evening stillness.
“How are you feeling?” I asked quietly.
“Much better,” she said.
As she spoke, her fingers slid over mine where my hand rested on the edge of the mattress. Her touch was light, almost hesitant—but it sent a jolt straight through me. Warm. Immediate. I didn’t pull away.
“I’m glad,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “You should rest. Today was a long one.”
I covered her other hand briefly, a simple, careful gesture, then forced myself to let go. “Get some sleep.”
“I will,” she said, smiling softly at me.
Once her breathing evened out and I knew she was asleep, I reached for the crystal jar beside her bed. I held the diamond between my fingers for a second longer.
Four months.
Four months of watching over her and fighting for her and falling for her.
I dropped the diamond in gently. It landed with a soft, clear sound among the beads.
When I turned, Marlon was watching me with a knowing smile.
“Come,” he said quietly. “Let’s get some coffee.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We slipped into a quiet corner of the café, the hum of conversation and clinking cups around us fading into the background. I let out a long sigh and stirred my coffee without really tasting it.
“So… when’s your last day?” Marlon asked casually, but I could tell he was studying me.
“Two weeks,” I muttered, my fingers tightening around the mug.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is your decision… because of Anna?”
I froze for a moment, looking up at him, caught off guard. How do you explain something you barely understand yourself? “I…I don’t know,” I admitted finally, the words tasting bitter.
Marlon leaned back, watching me with that calm, knowing expression of his. “Are you planning to pursue her? Or is it because you want to avoid her?”
Maybe both, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. The truth was messy, tangled with fear and longing and the guilt of everything I held back for so long. “I don’t have the answers,” I confessed, staring down at the rim of my cup. “I’m a mess, Marlon. And I don’t know what to do.”
He studied me quietly for a beat, then leaned forward, voice low and pointed. “By the looks of it…I don’t think you’ll have a problem pursuing her. The way she reacts to you—Collins, that’s not a doctor-patient reaction. It’s something else. Something much more.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words.
My heart skipped despite myself. That something more terrified me, yet it was all I wanted.
Every time I saw her smile, every time she looked at me, it felt like an electric current running straight through me.
And the idea of crossing that line…losing the careful restraint I’d kept for months… it both thrilled and terrified me.
“I…I just…” I started, then trailed off. The truth was, I didn’t even know how to begin. How do you put words to the way someone consumes your thoughts, your every quiet moment, without even realising it?
Marlon leaned back again, giving me space, letting the words hang between us like the sharp tang of the coffee. “Think about it,” he said finally. “But don’t kid yourself. She’s not waiting for just anyone. She’s waiting for you. And you know it.”
I looked away, staring out the café window at the street beyond. And maybe he was right. Perhaps I’d been running in circles around what I really wanted. My heart was already decided whether my mind wanted to admit it or not.