Contract Marriage After a Crazy Night Chapter 107: ~ 107

Chapter 107

~ Franklin ~

I didn’t realize how fast I was walking until the hospital’s automatic glass doors hissed shut behind with a soft, final sound. It echoed in my chest like the closing of a vault. I stopped dead on the sidewalk, the cool evening air slapping against my face. The city kept moving around —cars slicing through traffic, strangers laughing into their phones, life pulsing on as if nothing had changed. But inside , everything had fractured.

She rembered them. Her parents. The way her eyes had softened when she looked at Ben and Patricia, the quiet recognition that lit up her face—it had been real. Warm. Imdiate. But when she turned those sa eyes on ... nothing. Just polite confusion and a stranger’s wariness.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. The words she’d spoken still rang in my ears, clear and rciless. Who are you? They cut deeper every ti I replayed them. Her gaze had held no flicker of the woman who loved . Now I was just a tall man in a tailored suit who didn’t belong in her story.

A bitter, hollow laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Maybe her brain was protecting her. After all the pain I’d caused—the secrets, the fights, the way I’d pushed her away when she needed most—perhaps forgetting was the kindest thing her mind could do. I needed air. Space. Sothing stronger than the sterile hospital sll that still clung to my clothes.

I hadn’t brought Walter with today, so I slid behind the wheel of my car and drove without thinking. The streets blurred until I pulled up outside a quiet bar I’d passed a hundred tis but never entered. Dim golden light spilled from the windows. It looked lonely enough to match my mood.

Inside, the place was hushed, just the low hum of jazz from hidden speakers and the clink of ice in glasses. I took a stool at the far end of the polished counter. "Whiskey, neat," I told the bartender. He poured without comnt, sliding the heavy glass toward . The amber liquid caught the low light, steady and calm—everything I wasn’t. I stared at it for a long mont, then lifted it to my lips. The first sip burned a clean path down my throat. The second did nothing to dull the ache.

No matter how much I drank, her face stayed with : that lost, searching look, as if I were a puzzle she couldn’t solve and wasn’t sure she wanted to. My reflection in the glass looked back at —tired eyes, clenched jaw, a man who had once believed love was enough to fix anything. I tightened my grip until my knuckles whitened.

My phone vibrated sharply against the wood, jolting . I glanced at the screen and sighed. Grandpa. I answered before the second ring.

"Franklin, my boy," his voice ca through, warm and urgent. "I’ve been waiting for news. How’s Octavia?"

I leaned back against the stool, staring at the rows of bottles behind the bar. "She woke up."

A long pause, then a deep breath of relief. "Thank God. That’s wonderful news!"

"Yeah," I said, the word tasting flat. "Wonderful."

He caught the tone imdiately. "Sothing’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice. Talk to ."

I rubbed my temples, the whiskey suddenly heavy in my stomach. "She doesn’t recognize , Grandpa."

"What do you an?"

"She rembers her parents. The second they walked in, she knew them—called them Mom and Dad like the words had been waiting right there on her tongue. But ?" My voice cracked. "She looked at like I was a stranger who’d wandered into the wrong room. I told her my na. Told her I was soone important to her. She just... nodded. Polite. Empty. Like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter."

Silence stretched between us. I waited for the pity I didn’t want, but when he finally spoke, his voice was steady and kind, the sa tone he’d used when I was a boy learning that not every battle could be won with fists.

"Franklin, listen to . This doesn’t an she’s lost to you."

A short, humorless laugh escaped . "It sure as hell feels like it."

"It isn’t," he said firmly. "The doctor told you the brain needs ti, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded even though he couldn’t see . "Days, weeks... maybe months."

"Then give it ti. I know waiting feels impossible right now, but nothing worth keeping ever cos easy."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and fear twisting together. "You don’t understand. The way she looked at ... it was like staring at a blank wall where our whole life used to be."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked, a quiet challenge in his words.

I frowned. "What do you an?"

"Are you going to walk away because she forgot you? Or are you going to make her rember?"

The question hung there, simple and brutal. "I’m not walking away, Grandpa. I was just—"

"Good," he cut in. "Because you loved her before she forgot you, and that hasn’t changed. She may not rember you right now, but feelings like that don’t vanish. Sotis they’re just buried deep. Waiting for the right mont to surface again."

I thought of all the mistakes I’d made—the nude photos that had shattered her trust, the fight at Madison Square Garden, the night Clinton showed up at her apartnt and everything exploded. The guilt I carried felt heavier than the whiskey in my glass. "So I start over?"

"If that’s what it takes," he said gently. "But at the end of the day, you tell her the truth. All of it. No more hiding. No more walls. Love like yours deserves honesty."

I let out a slow breath, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction. "You’re right. You’re always right."

He chuckled softly. "That’s the spirit. You won’t lose her, Franklin. Not if you fight the way I know you can."

"I’m not going to lose her," I said, the words solidifying into a vow. "I’ll make her rember. Every single day, every single mont, until she has no choice but to feel it again."

"I’m glad to hear that, son. Now go be with her family. And then get so rest. You’ll need your strength."

"Yeah. I’ll be ho soon."

I ended the call and sat there a little longer, letting his words settle over like armor. The bar felt quieter now, the jazz softer. I dropped a few bills on the counter and stepped back into the night. The cool air sharpened everything—the ache in my chest, the determination in my blood.

If she had forgotten , I would remind her. By showing her, day after day, the man who loved her enough to start over. Enough to earn her heart all over again.

I got into my car and turned back toward the hospital. I needed to say goodnight to Ben and Patricia, to stand in the doorway and look at Octavia one more ti—even if she still saw only a stranger. Then I would drive ho and begin planning how to win back the only woman who had ever made feel truly alive.