Laura picked up her phone and pressed Call.
She diA man she couldn't rememberdn't know why, but a quiet unease had settled in her chest. The signal rang—connected. She swallowed and spoke.
"Hello… my name is Laura. I don't know if we know each other, but I found your contact on my phone, and I was hoping we could talk."
Silence.
No voice answered. Her heart began to beat faster for reasons she couldn't explain. Then the call ended.
She stared at the screen.
Maybe I hung up by accident.
She tried again. The call dropped instantly.
She typed a message instead:
When you have time, please call me.
The message didn't send.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Did he block me?
Why?
And is the man in that photo really Tomas?
She needed answers. Kristina and Lukas might know something.
The door to her hospital room opened, and Dr. Michael stepped inside.
"Hello, Laura," he said with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay," she replied. "Just a headache. I've been having blurry images in my thoughts. Maybe old memories—but the people are unclear. I don't recognize anyone."
Michael nodded calmly. "That can happen. Visiting emotionally important places, touching meaningful objects, or encountering significant people can trigger fragments of memory. It can also cause stress, headaches, and fatigue."
Laura hesitated, then opened her photo gallery and showed him the picture.
"Do you know if this man came to the hospital?" she asked.
Michael lowered his gaze. His expression grew serious. "I'm sorry. I don't remember him."
She knew instantly he was lying.
She had seen that man near her room.
Michael cleared his throat. "Try to walk more. Fresh air helps brain function. I see you have a phone—if you'd like, you can add me to your contacts. If you have questions, you can call me."
Laura studied him. Young. Attractive. Light hair.
But something about him feels… distant.
"Alright," she said.
They exchanged contacts, and Michael left.
The fatigue settled in quickly. Sleep came easily.
Morning arrived with the sounds of nurses rushing past and carts rolling through the corridor. Laura sat up in bed. Her stomach growled.
I should eat something.
She dressed warmly and reached for the door—then froze. Voices.
Two nurses were talking just outside her room.
"You know the girl in room ten?" one said. "The one with the severe head injury and amnesia?"
"Yes."
"She barely has visitors. But the strange thing is—when she was in a coma, a man stayed by her side constantly. Young, handsome. He didn't leave. Barely ate, barely slept. He was always there."
"And then?"
"When she woke up… he disappeared. Never came back."
Laura's heart trembled.
She opened the door suddenly. "Was it this man?" she asked, holding up her phone.
"Yes," one nurse said immediately. "That's him."
Laura grabbed the nurse's hand. "Do you know his name? Where he lives?"
"I'm sorry," the nurse said gently. "We don't have his contact information."
Laura released her hand.
"Thank you."
She walked slowly to the cafeteria.
He stayed with me the whole time…
And when I woke up—when I remembered nothing—he vanished.
Why?
Did he not want me to remember him?
The questions multiplied, offering no answers.
She took her food and sat down.
Then she saw Dr. Michael across the room.
He noticed her too and approached. "May I sit with you?"
"Yes."
"How are you feeling today?" he asked.
She didn't let him continue.
"You lied to me," Laura said quietly. "You said you didn't know the man in the photo."
Michael sighed. "You're right. I didn't want to tell you—because he asked me not to."
"Tell me everything," Laura said firmly. "What you know about him. And why he asked."
Michael studied her for a moment. "I see you won't let this go. The weather's nice—let's go to the park after we eat. I'll explain everything. He probably doesn't even know I recognized him."
Laura finished her food quickly. "I'm done. Let's go."
Michael chuckled softly. "At least you have an appetite. Alright."
They sat on a bench in the park.
"His name is Tomas," Michael began. "He may not have recognized me—or remembered me—but we studied medicine together. Everyone knew him as a genius. One of the youngest surgeons to perform complex operations independently."
He paused.
"Then one day… he disappeared. Quit everything. No one knew why or where he went."
Michael looked down.
"I saw him again the day he brought you to the hospital. He carried you in his arms—covered in blood. He was trying to stop the bleeding. His face was full of anger and pain."
"I didn't recognize him at first. But when you showed me the photo, I knew."
"You mattered to him," Michael continued. "He stayed with you constantly while you were in a coma. When you finally woke up, he went to eat and rest—he was at his limit."
"And then I told him you had amnesia."
Michael exhaled slowly.
"He didn't speak for a long time. Just stood there. Then something in him… changed. He became cold. Empty."
"He asked me not to tell you about him."
"I told him that being together might help your memory return faster. He said…" Michael swallowed.
"She'll be happier not knowing. She deserves a new life."
He looked at Laura. "Your injuries were violent. Someone hurt you badly. He didn't want you to remember that."
"I've told you everything I know."
Laura sat silently, absorbing the weight of it all.
"My head hurts," she finally said. "I want to rest."
"Of course," Michael replied. "Let's go back."
Back in her room, Laura lay down.
Her head throbbed. Her thoughts circled around a man she couldn't remember—but somehow missed.
She didn't know who Tomas was to her.
But somehow i feel bad for him. A few moments later, the door to Laura's room opened again. Lukas and Kristina stepped inside.
"Hi, Laura," Lukas said gently. "How are you feeling today?"
Laura sat up on the bed. Her face was tired, sad—but firm.
"I trusted you," she said quietly. "I thought you were my family. But I remember nothing, and now I know you've been lying to me. I don't even know who I can trust anymore."
Kristina took a step closer. "Laura, you really matter to us. We just want you to recover."
"Then why did you lie to me about Tomas?" Laura suddenly raised her voice.
Kristina and Lukas exchanged a glance.
"How do you know about Tomas?" Lukas asked carefully. "Did you remember something?"
"The doctor told me everything," Laura replied. "That Tomas brought me to the hospital. That he stayed with me while I was in a coma. Why did you hide that from me?"
Kristina lowered her eyes. Lukas stood silently, his expression serious.
"I'm sorry," Kristina said at last. "Tomas asked us to. And we believed it would be better for you not to be close to him."
"Why?" Laura asked. "Why shouldn't I be near him? What was my relationship with him? Tell me everything."
Lukas took a breath. "Alright. We'll tell you what we know—but we didn't know him well."
"You were a couple," he continued. "Not for very long, but you looked happy. Happier than we'd ever seen you. Before the accident, you were planning to take time off work to spend more time with him."
Kristina added softly, "But at the same time, you seemed… distant. More cautious. You started avoiding unfamiliar people. It was like something was weighing on you."
Lukas nodded. "Then the accident happened. Tomas told us only that you'd been hurt badly. He didn't explain how. He became cold—like he was carrying something he refused to say out loud."
"When you woke up," Kristina said, "and he came into your room pretending not to know us—that's when we realized something was wrong. Later, he asked us not to tell you about him. He said you should live a simple life. Move on."
"We doubted that decision," Lukas admitted. "But after the last time we saw him… we thought maybe it really was better for you to leave the past behind."
Laura looked up sharply. "When did you see him last?"
Kristina's voice dropped. "Yesterday. He came to the bar. Gave us a bank card and asked us to give it to you. He said the money was yours."
She swallowed. "But he wasn't the same man anymore. He was cold. Empty. Dangerous. We don't know where he lives now—or what he's doing."
Laura lowered her gaze.
"I understand," she said quietly. "I'm tired. I need to be alone for a while. I need to think."
"Of course," Kristina said. "If you need anything, call or text us."
She placed the bank card gently on the bedside table.
They left the room.
Laura remained sitting on the bed, alone—surrounded by fragments of truth, unanswered questions, and the quiet weight of a man she could not remember.