As the afternoon light spilled into the hospital room, Cecilia stood motionless by the window. From the tenth floor, the bustling traffic below looked like toy cars, tiny and insignificant, much like the ones she and her father used to spend hours playing with when she was just a child. Those memories—of innocence, of her parents, of a life before she was orphaned—were vivid. Crystal clear. It was everything after that, everything after starting at the café, after meeting Victor, that felt like a blurred, unreachable haze.

Earlier that day, the doctor had come by. His words had echoed the same frustrating reassurance Victor had given her. "Don’t force it. The memories will return when they’re ready." But time felt unbearable. Cecilia was suffocating in the unknown.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, assuming it was a nurse bringing her next dose of medication. But when the door opened, it was Victor.

“I got you discharged,” Victor announced as he stepped inside, his voice even and measured. “The doctor says it’s a little early, but what kind of professional would I be if I couldn’t take care of you myself? Besides, I know you don’t want to be here anymore. You’ll feel better at home.”

Cecilia didn’t turn to face him. Her gaze stayed fixed on the window, her right hand trembling as she clenched it into a fist. The idea of leaving should have lifted her spirits, but instead, a deep, suffocating certainty settled over her. Whatever she had lost, it wasn’t just a memory, and it wasn’t a ring.

Victor placed a travel bag on the bed. “I brought you clothes,” he added, glancing at his watch. “Get ready quickly, we’ll be boarding the plane in about two hours.”

Her brow furrowed. A plane? She didn’t even know why they were in another city to begin with. The words barely escaped her lips. “Not yet—” she murmured.

Victor immediately crossed the room toward her, his worry evident in the tension of his features. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

Cecilia turned to look at him. It took effort to keep her thoughts straight. Every time she looked at Victor, a strange, aching anticipation filled her chest. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to close the unbearable distance between them. But ever since she’d woken up—they hadn’t kissed, not once. Was that normal for them now? Was something broken?

“Before we go, there’s something I need to ask you,” she said, her voice barely steady.

Victor stiffened, his body tensing as if bracing for impact. He took a small, instinctive step back. “What is it?”

That movement hit her like a cold slap, sharp and stinging, but it also fueled her courage.

“I want to know—” she hesitated, trying to organize the tangled storm inside her head. “What’s wrong with you?”

Victor’s face became unreadable. He slowed his breathing, masking emotion behind a carefully empty expression. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something. Something’s wrong with you, with this, with us. I can feel it. What is it?”

Victor studied her, his gaze measuring and heavy. He finally let out a long, tired sigh. “You had a bad accident two days ago, Cesi. You could’ve died. I think that’s a good enough reason for me to be acting a little strange.”

Cecilia frowned, annoyed by the way he spoke down to her, like she was too fragile, too stupid to see what was really going on. She knew Victor. Maybe she hadn’t noticed it right away, but now, after watching his every move, listening to the tightness in his voice, she was sure. Something else was happening here. And it was connected to the emptiness gnawing at her chest.

“I’ve lost something,” she blurted out. The words left her mouth like a desperate plea. “I feel like there’s something important, something I’m supposed to be looking for. What is it?”

Victor made the face he always did when he was confused, his brow drawn together, lips slightly parted. For a brief moment, Cecilia felt a strange sense of calm. Maybe Victor really didn’t know. But then something shifted in Victor’s eyes. A flicker of recognition.

“What is it?” she demanded, her voice raw.

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re always losing things, you’re careless like that.” His tone dropped again into that cold, detached voice he’d used the night before.

“Tell me what I forgot.”

“I already told you, we’re not going to talk about the past seven years. The doctor said it’s dangerous to force it.”

Cecilia gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. “Then tell me why I had the accident. Where was I going?”

“I don’t know,” Victor snapped back. “You’re like you are. Don’t ask me why you crashed into a traffic light. I wasn’t with you, and you’ve never been the smartest driver. So, yeah.” He gestured as though it should be obvious that eventually, something like this would happen.

“Just—tell me one thing. One. The most important thing.” There was no hiding the desperate edge in her voice now. Whatever it was that was missing, it mattered more than anything, and she needed him to say it. She could feel it in her bones.

But Victor didn’t answer.

The silence stretched painfully long between them, thick with things unsaid. Cecilia realized then, with bitter clarity, that he wasn’t going to tell her.

Her breath caught, and she lifted her trembling right hand. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers and opened her palm to reveal the object she’d been holding all this time, a simple, beautiful engagement ring.

She showed it to Victor without saying a word.