Chapter 132
~ Octavia ~
The nightmare still clung to like damp fog on a cold morning, its edges sharp and unrelenting even as daylight filtered through the hospital blinds. Franklin had held through the night, his arms a steady anchor until the first pale streaks of dawn crept across the room. Neither he nor my mother knew the details of what had haunted my sleep—the shadowy figures, the crushing sense of betrayal, the fall that felt too real—and I wasn’t ready to speak of it yet. When I finally felt strong enough to share, Franklin had already been called away to work. He kissed my forehead softly, promising to return later that day, and I told my mother I would wait until he was back so we could hear it together. The weight of the dream pressed on , but so did the quiet hope that each passing hour was pulling closer to wholeness.
Day after day, I grew stronger. Small victories felt monuntal now. I could bathe myself, though the nurse in charge hovered nearby with gentle supervision, ready to steady if the dizziness returned. The warm water cascading over my skin washed away so of the hospital staleness, but not the questions swirling in my mind. By the ti I finished and slipped back into the fresh gown, my mother had headed ho for a much-needed rest. The room felt quieter without her constant, comforting presence.
Then Victoria arrived. At first, the nurses on duty had turned her away, explaining that only imdiate family was permitted. She had called ahead, her voice bright on the line, but rules were rules. I wheeled myself out to the nurses’ station, insisting she was allowed—more than allowed. She was my best friend, even if the full mories of our shared laughter and late-night talks still hovered just out of reach. Victoria burst through with helium balloons bobbing like colorful clouds and a vibrant bouquet of my favorite flowers: delicate orchids and bold sunflowers that filled the air with a sweet, earthy fragrance.
"Hey, doll!" she squealed the mont she spotted , her energy lighting up the sterile corridor like sunlight breaking clouds.
"Vic!" I cried, wheeling faster to et her. We collided in a fierce hug, her arms wrapping around as if she might never let go. The balloons brushed against us, their strings tickling my cheek.
"How have you been?" I asked, pulling back to search her face.
"I’m good! I missed you so much," she said, her eyes glistening. "How have you been since you woke up? Really?"
"I’ve been... good," I replied, though the word felt too small for the whirlwind inside . I turned to the nurses with a grateful nod. "She’s with ." They smiled and stepped aside in unison.
"Co on," I said, leading her toward my private ward. The balloons trailed behind us like a cheerful parade, brightening the beige walls and sterile equipnt. Once inside, she handed the flowers, their petals soft under my fingers, and tied the balloons to the bed rail so they floated overhead like tiny guardians.
"These are for you," she said, her smile wide and genuine.
"Thank you, Vic." I pulled her into another hug, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfu mixed with the blooms. "They’re perfect."
"I’m so happy to see you, Octavia," she murmured as we settled onto the bed together. "Like I said on the phone, I was worried sick. I didn’t sleep well from the day of the accident until we finally talked. Every night I kept picturing the worst. But now that I’ve seen you—really seen you—I’m okay. You look stronger."
"Yep, I am," I nodded, though my mind was already drifting. I paused, the silence stretching just long enough to feel heavy. "What about the others? How are they?"
"You rembered the others?" Victoria asked, surprise flickering across her face.
"Not really. My mory is still foggy on nas and faces, but I know I have colleagues. Franklin ntioned them."
"Well, they’re fine," she shrugged, her tone light but careful. I grew quiet again, the question burning on my tongue.
"What about... um, Bella? Bella Washington?" I asked finally, watching her closely.
Victoria’s eyes widened. "You rembered Bella?"
"Not really. Her na just popped into my head one day. I asked Franklin who she was, and he said she’s his ex and my colleague. When I pushed for more, he shut down—said he didn’t want to jumble my mories. He wants to rember on my own. But I need help, Vic. Tell about her."
"Franklin’s right, Octavia," she said gently, though her expression was firm. "I don’t want to risk scrambling things either. You need patience. Your brain is healing in its own ti."
I glared at her, frustration bubbling up like steam. "Why is everyone telling to wait? What if the mories never co back fully?"
"Hey, don’t say that—they will," she reassured , squeezing my hand.
"If they will, why haven’t they by now?" I frowned, sighing deeply. The fog in my mind felt thicker than ever.
"It’s sothing you should ask Franklin or, better yet, your Doctor. He’ll have the right answers. I’m just here to be your friend, not your doctor."
She was right, of course. I exhaled, letting the tension ease. "Just tell about what’s going on in your life, then."
"Okay," Victoria said with a warm smile, launching into stories of work deadlines, her latest personal dramas, and the last concert she’d attended. Her voice painted vivid pictures—crowded stages, laughter with new friends, the everyday chaos that felt both familiar and distant. It was good to listen, to feel connected to sothing beyond these four walls. An hour later, she announced she had to leave; she’d taken a short leave from the office just to see .
"You could have waited until the weekend," I told her, though I was grateful she hadn’t.
"I couldn’t wait," she admitted, hugging tightly again. "I needed to see you as soon as possible." She promised to return on the weekend, and I escorted her out, watching the balloons sway gently behind us until she disappeared down the hall.
Half an hour later, Franklin returned, looking sharp in a tailored three-piece suit that made him seem both powerful and approachable. He carried lunch—steaming containers that filled the room with savory aromas—and arranged the tray for with careful hands.
"How was work?" I asked, watching him move.
"Good," he shrugged, though the faint lines of fatigue around his eyes told a quieter story. "Victoria ca by earlier to visit."
"She did? That’s sweet of her...though it sounds like she ditched work for you," he said with a small smile.
"She asked for permission," I replied, already reaching for the food.
"I brought lunch," he added, settling the tray in front of .
"Thank you." Before I took the first bite, I spoke up. "Guess the first place I’ll go once I’m discharged from here."
"McDonald’s? KFC? Subway?" he suggested playfully.
"As much as I love their food...eww, no. That stuff reeks of calories," I grimaced, and he laughed, the sound rich and warm.
"So where would you like to go?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"The gym," I said with a smile.
"The gym?" He frowned slightly, caught off guard.
"Yep." I nodded. "I want to blow off so steam and keep fit. I feel like I’ve added weight lying here."
"You’ve barely added any," he chuckled, eyes soft.
"You’re only saying that because it’s what I want to hear," I rolled my eyes.
"It’s the truth," he insisted.
"Eat up—your al’s getting cold," he reminded gently.
I took a few bites, savoring the warmth, then looked up. "Is Dr. Aris on duty?"
"I don’t know. Why?"
"Because I need to ask him so questions," I said, eting his gaze.
"About...?"
"My health. Why aren’t all my mories returning now that I’m getting better?" Victoria’s words echoed in my mind, fueling the need for answers.
"It’s a gradual process, Octavia," he sighed, patient as ever.
"You aren’t Dr. Aris, Franklin," I pointed out.
"You’re right—I’m not. But you need to be patient. mories don’t flood back overnight. They co slowly, like how you rembered your parents first, then Clinton, our wedding outfits, Victoria, Nola, and even—"
"Bella Washington?" I finished for him.
"Yes, her...though you only rembered the na. That’s still a good sign everything will return in its own ti, okay?" He sat at the foot of the bed, watching eat. "Don’t worry that they aren’t rushing back."
"At first I didn’t want them to return," I admitted quietly. "I was scared of rembering why I was angry at you. But when Bella’s na popped up and you said she’s your ex...I need all of it now. The full picture."
"It will return," he said softly, falling quiet as I finished my al.
When the tray was cleared, he spoke again. "Would you be more comfortable in your own clothes instead of the hospital gown?"
"If it’s possible, yes—I’d love that," I nodded, the idea of normalcy lifting my spirits.
"Okay. I’ll get you sothing comfortable by tomorrow," he promised. Then, after a pause, "Can you tell about the nightmare now?"
"My Mom isn’t here yet. I need to tell you both at the sa ti," I replied.
"Okay, no problem," he nodded, sighing as he leaned back. The room settled into a gentle quiet, but beneath it humd the unspoken weight of secrets still waiting to surface.
User Comments
0 comments from readers