The next time she opened her eyes, the world was clearer. The fog had thinned, though her skull still ached with every beat of her heart. The steady beep of the monitor matched her pulse, a strange duet that reassured her she was still tethered here, still alive.
The room looked different now. Less like a blur of shapes and more like a sterile cube: pale walls, a window curtained with thin blinds, a vase of flowers already wilting on the bedside table. The faint hum of the air conditioner vibrated in her ears.
And there he was.
Her fiancé sat in the same chair, shoulders hunched, gaze distant. His phone lay dark in his lap, untouched. He hadn't shaved; the shadow on his jaw was deeper now. His tie was loosened, his shirt wrinkled as if he'd slept in it.
Her chest tightened. He really had stayed. He must have been here the whole time.
She licked her lips, forcing her throat to work. "Hey," she croaked.
His head snapped toward her. For a moment she thought she saw something flicker — relief, perhaps, or surprise — but it was gone almost instantly, replaced by that same guarded expression.
"You're awake," he said again, as if the words were rehearsed.
A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. "Seems so."
He nodded but didn't move closer, didn't reach for her hand. That ache in her chest sharpened. He looked so tense, so shut in on himself. She hated seeing him like that.
And then, like a mischievous spark lighting in her brain, she thought of a way to crack through it. A prank. A silly, harmless thing. If she pretended, she didn't remember him — just for a moment — maybe it would scare him enough to loosen that iron composure. Maybe he would laugh afterward, relief flooding in, and the heaviness between them would lift.
Her lips curved faintly. I'll let him off the hook soon enough. I don't want him to suffer. Just a little tease.
She let her gaze go blank, softened her eyes as if dazed. "I…" she whispered, "I don't… Who are you?"
His reaction wasn't what she expected. He froze, his jaw working. Silence stretched between them. The monitor beeped steadily, filling the gap where his laugh should have been.
Finally, he leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly. "Of course," he murmured, almost to himself. "The doctor said this might happen."
Her pulse skipped. "What… do you mean?"
He looked at her, and this time his gaze wasn't frightened or playful. It was careful, measured, like someone stepping across thin ice.
"You've been through a lot," he said gently. "I didn't expect you to remember everything right away."
The careful tone unsettled her. It was the voice he used with strangers, not with her.
"We…" He paused, searching for words. "We aren't together anymore."
Her breath caught. "What?"
"We broke up," he said, the words soft but deliberate. "A few weeks before the accident. I came because… well, we were engaged for a long time. I couldn't just stay away. It wouldn't have been right."
Her mind reeled. This was supposed to be a prank. A silly little prank. But his expression didn't waver. He wasn't joking.
"That… can't be right," she whispered. "We—"
The door opened then, and the doctor stepped inside with a clipboard. "Ah, good, you're awake," he said cheerfully, striding to her bedside. He checked the monitor, her IV, her bandages. "How are you feeling?"
She stared at him, stunned, words tangling in her throat. Finally, she rasped, "He says… we broke up. That's not—"
The doctor gave her a professional smile. "Don't worry if things feel confusing right now. Memory lapses are common with concussion. Sometimes patients misremember events, sometimes they forget stretches of time entirely. It usually improves."
Her stomach dropped. The lie had just become real. He would hide behind her supposed amnesia, and she had no way to prove otherwise without admitting her prank.
Her fiancé glanced at the doctor, then back at her. His expression softened, but it was a pitying kind of softness. "It's true," he said quietly. "We ended things. You… you accepted it, even wished me well."
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she forced them back. "And… now?"
He hesitated again, then gave her the blow that shattered the last fragile piece of her world.
"I'm with someone else. My boss's daughter. You even congratulated us. You said you wanted us both to be happy."
The words echoed in her head, jagged and unreal. His boss's daughter. Not only had he left her, but he had traded her in for ambition, for the sheen of power and career advancement.
Her fingers curled weakly against the sheet. She had meant to prank him, to prove his love. Instead, he had unmasked himself entirely.
Her chest felt hollow. Her pulse thudded painfully in her temples.
The doctor, oblivious to the devastation, made a note on his clipboard. "Rest now," he said gently. "Your brain needs time to heal."
She turned her face toward the wall, hiding the tremor in her lips.
The prank was over. The nightmare had begun.