James's POV
Pain wakes him up.
Not gentle pain. Not the kind you can ignore or push through. The kind that lives in your skull and won't leave. The kind that makes you wonder if your head is actually still attached to your body or if it's just floating somewhere in the white room screaming.
James opens his eyes.
Everything is white. The walls. The ceiling. The sheets on the bed he's lying in. Even the light coming through the window is white and harsh and wrong. His eyes burn from it but he can't seem to close them. His body isn't listening to commands anymore.
A machine beeps beside him. Steady. Rhythmic. Like his heartbeat has become a sound in the room instead of something that belongs inside his chest.
He tries to remember how he got here.
The truck comes back. The sound of metal breaking. The feeling of his body being thrown around like he weighs nothing. But everything after that is fog. Gray and thick and impenetrable.
A woman comes into the room. She's wearing scrubs and holding a clipboard and looking at him like she's searching for something on his face. Her name tag says Dr. Patel.
"Good morning," she says. Her voice is careful. Like she's talking to someone who might break. "I'm Dr. Patel. You're in Presbyterian Hospital. You were in a serious car accident three days ago."
Three days.
The number doesn't make sense. It feels like seconds have passed. It feels like years. James tries to sit up but his body won't cooperate. Every muscle screams. Every bone protests. He stops trying.
"Don't move," Dr. Patel says. She's checking the machines now. Adjusting things. Making notes. "You have significant injuries. Your left side took most of the impact. You need to rest."
"How long," James tries to say but his voice comes out broken. Cracked. Like he's been screaming in his sleep.
"How long what?" Dr. Patel asks.
"How long until I can work."
She exchanges a look with the nurse standing in the corner. The kind of look that means they've already decided the answer and they're not happy about it.
"Your work can wait," Dr. Patel says. "Right now we need to focus on your recovery."
But James knows better. His company can't wait. His board can't wait. The Hong Kong deal won't wait. There are competitors circling and opportunities closing and his entire empire might be crumbling right now while he lies here unable to move.
"I need my phone," James says. "I need to make calls."
"Absolutely not," Dr. Patel says. She's firm. Final. Like she's had this conversation before with other patients who thought their business mattered more than their lives. "You suffered a traumatic brain injury. Your brain needs rest. That means no phone. No computer. No work. Understand?"
James wants to argue but the pain is getting worse. It's spreading from his head down his spine like poison. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about everything he's losing while he lies here helpless.
"I'm going to ask you some questions," Dr. Patel says. "I need you to answer them honestly. Can you do that?"
James nods. Barely.
"What's your name?"
"James Ashford."
"Do you know what today's date is?"
He doesn't. He tries to remember but the number slips away from him like water through his fingers. He can't hold onto it.
"No," he admits.
"It's Thursday, March fourteenth," Dr. Patel says. "Do you remember the accident?"
He remembers the truck. He remembers the sound. He remembers the impact and the pain and the darkness after. But there's something else too. Something he can't quite grasp.
A woman in blue.
She's real in his memory but she doesn't make sense. She doesn't belong to the accident. She belongs to something else. Something he's missing.
"I remember some of it," James says.
Dr. Patel nods and makes more notes. "You've been unconscious for three days. When you were brought in, you had significant injuries. Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. Concussion. The concussion is what concerns us most. It's caused some memory loss."
"How much memory loss?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Dr. Patel says. She's sitting down now. Pulling up a chair. This is the conversation where everything changes. James can feel it coming. "Can you tell me what your last clear memory is?"
James closes his eyes. He searches through the fog in his head trying to find something solid to hold onto. Trying to find something real.
And there it is.
The blue dress. The woman's face. Her smile. The way she was looking at him like he was the best thing that ever happened to her.
"My wife," James says. His voice sounds strange. Like it's coming from someone else. "I remember my wife. She was wearing blue. She was laughing. We were at my office but I was always at my office so that's not surprising. That's where she was. That's my last clear memory."
Dr. Patel is very still.
"Tell me about your wife," she says slowly.
"She was beautiful," James says. He can see her so clearly now. Too clearly. Like his broken brain is trying to tell him something. "She was patient with me. I didn't deserve her patience but she gave it anyway. I remember that. I remember knowing I didn't appreciate it enough."
The words are coming faster now. The memory is getting clearer. Or maybe it's not getting clearer. Maybe it's just that he's paying attention for the first time in years.
"What's her name?" Dr. Patel asks.
"Rachel," James says. "Her name is Rachel. She was my wife. She was wearing blue."
Dr. Patel exchanges another look with the nurse. This look is different. This look is worried.
"James," Dr. Patel says slowly. Carefully. Like she's handling something fragile. "I need to tell you something and I need you to stay calm."
"What."
"The collision happened three years after your memory ends," Dr. Patel says. "You've lost approximately three years of memories. Everything that happened between that moment with your wife in blue and the accident is gone."
James doesn't understand.
Three years.
That's not a gap. That's an entire section of his life erased. That's birthdays he didn't celebrate. That's moments he didn't live. That's time he can never get back.
"That's impossible," James says.
"I know this is overwhelming," Dr. Patel continues. "But traumatic brain injuries can cause significant memory loss. We don't always understand why certain memories survive and others don't. Sometimes people remember recent events and forget the distant past. Sometimes it's the opposite. Your brain is prioritizing what it thinks is important."
"My wife is important," James says. "Where is my wife. I need to see my wife."
Dr. Patel's face goes soft in a way that means she's about to tell him something that will hurt worse than the physical pain.
"James," she says quietly. "There's someone who needs to talk to you about that."
The door opens.
A man walks in. He's older. Maybe mid-forties. He has the look of someone who's been waiting outside the room for this conversation. He has the look of someone who knows exactly what James is about to feel and he's not looking forward to it.
"Hey buddy," the man says. His voice is kind but sad. So sad. "I'm Marcus Stone. I work with you. I've been your friend for a long time."
James doesn't recognize him.
"Do you remember me at all?" Marcus asks, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.
"No," James says. The fog in his head is getting thicker. Darker. "I don't remember you. I don't remember anything. I remember my wife. I remember Rachel. Where is she. I need to see her."
Marcus takes a deep breath.
"James," he says slowly. "Rachel left you almost three years ago. You got divorced. It was finalized before the accident happened."
The words hit James like another truck.
No.
That's not right.
That can't be right.
He was just with her. She was just laughing. She was just wearing blue. That was real. That was the most real thing in his entire life and it couldn't have been three years ago because that would mean it's gone now.
"What do you mean she left me?" James asks.
Marcus is quiet for a long moment.
"You were always working," Marcus says finally. "Always at the office. You chose the company over everything else. Over her. Over your marriage. One day she just couldn't take it anymore. She left in the middle of the night. Didn't leave a note. Didn't tell you goodbye. She just disappeared and filed for divorce."
James feels cold inside his own body.
Not just cold. Frozen.
She's gone. The woman in blue is gone. The last real memory he has is being at the office and not appreciating her and now three years have passed and she's not his wife anymore.
She's not anything to him anymore.
He's lost her and he can't even remember losing her.
"I need to find her," James says. He tries to sit up again but his body still won't listen. "I need to tell her I'm sorry. I need to tell her that I understand now. That I would change everything. That I didn't appreciate what I had until it was gone. I need to see her."
Marcus reaches over and touches James's arm.
"Buddy," Marcus says. "I don't know where she is. She's been gone for three years. She could be anywhere. She could be anyone now. She could have built a completely different life."
"Then find her," James demands. Even broken. Even in pain. Even with most of his memories erased. James Ashford is still someone who demands things. Someone who expects the world to bend to his will. "I don't care how long it takes. I don't care how much it costs. Find my wife."
"James," Marcus says gently. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. The doctors said you need to rest. You need to focus on recovery. Bringing up the past right now might not be healthy."
But James stops listening because a thought hits him so hard it takes his breath away.
What if she comes back?
What if the woman in blue realizes he's hurt and she comes back to see him? What if three years have softened whatever broke between them and she's been waiting for him to remember her?
What if she's out there somewhere right now and she has no idea he woke up forgetting her?
"When I'm out of this bed," James says to Marcus. "I'm going to find her. And I'm going to make sure she understands that I've changed. That the man who lost her is gone. That I would do anything to get her back."
Marcus looks at him with an expression James can't quite read.
"Be careful what you promise," Marcus says quietly. "Sometimes when we lose someone, they stay lost. And sometimes when they come back, they come back as someone we don't recognize."
The machines beep around them.
James closes his eyes and thinks about the woman in blue and wonders if he's ever going to see her again.
He doesn't know it yet but within two weeks, he will see her again.
She's going to be working in his office.
And she's going to have no idea that he's about to turn her entire world upside down with the desperate need to fix something that might never be repairable.