Chapter 75 075
RYAN
The way my head was banging is totally indescribable.
Every pulse of my heartbeat sent another dull throb through my skull. It was not sharp enough to make me cry out, but it was strong enough to make thinking feel like hard work. The room smelled like antiseptic and plastic tubing. Machines hummed quietly around me. The faint beeping of a monitor marked each second that passed.
I stared at the ceiling and tried to piece my thoughts together.
The doctors said I had an accident.
Car crash.
Head injury.
Temporary memory gaps.
They kept using calm voices and careful words. Like they were trying not to scare me.
But the truth was simple.
There were holes in my head where memories should have been.
And I hated that feeling more than anything.
I had always been a man who controlled everything in his life. My company. My time. My decisions. My emotions. I built my life by staying ten steps ahead of everyone around me. Well… growing up rich also added a tiny spice, but I never relied on my parents. I wanted to be so independent.
Now I could not even trust my mind.
My fingers curled slightly against the blanket as frustration rolled through my chest.
The girl from earlier came back to me again.
Her beautiful face.
Her voice.
The way she looked at me like her entire world had just collapsed.
Emily.
That was the name she said.
Your Emily.
The words echoed quietly in my mind.
Something about the way she said it felt… heavy.
Important.
But when I searched my memory, there was nothing there.
Just blank space.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers lightly to my temple.
The headache worsened immediately.
“Mr. Thompson, try not to strain yourself.”
The nurse’s voice floated from somewhere near the machines.
Easy for her to say.
My entire life had just become a puzzle missing half the pieces.
And no one seemed eager to explain it.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
I did not bother turning my head.
“Come in.”
The door opened quietly.
Footsteps crossed the room.
Light. Careful. Almost hesitant.
I turned my head slightly.
The girl my mother had introduced earlier stood near the doorway.
Miranda.
That was her name.
My mother had said she was my girlfriend.
I studied her silently.
She was pretty in a quiet way. Long hair, soft features, and nervous eyes that kept shifting around the room like she did not know where to look.
She smiled when our eyes met.
“Hi,” she said softly.
I nodded once.
“Hi.”
She walked closer to the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I replied calmly.
My voice sounded steady, but my mind was anything but.
She stood beside the bed now, her hands twisting together slightly.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
I did not respond immediately.
Instead, I watched her.
I studied her the way I would study a new business partner during a negotiation.
People revealed a lot if you stayed quiet long enough.
Miranda shifted under my gaze.
“Do you remember anything yet?” she asked carefully.
Fragments.
That was all I had.
Random pieces that floated through my head without warning.
My office.
Boardroom meetings.
The smell of coffee early in the morning.
The sound of a little girl laughing somewhere far away in my memory.
But the girl who walked into this room earlier crying like her heart had been ripped open… she was not in those memories.
Or maybe she was.
And my brain simply refused to show her to me.
I looked back at Miranda. She looked very familiar.
“Do you know the girl who came in earlier?”
Her reaction was immediate.
Her head shook quickly.
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
Too rehearsed. Hmmmm…
She moved a little closer to the bed.
“Why?”
Her voice tried to sound casual, but I caught the nervous edge underneath.
I studied her again.
My instincts had built a billion-dollar company.
Those same instincts were whispering quietly now.
Something about this situation felt wrong.
“She seemed upset,” I said.
Miranda’s lips pressed together for a second.
Then she forced a small smile.
“People get emotional in hospitals,” she said. “It happens all the time.”
That explanation did not satisfy me.
The girl had not looked emotional.
She looked shattered.
And when she said my name, it sounded like it meant something real.
Something deep.
I leaned my head back against the pillow slowly.
The movement sent another wave of pain through my skull.
I closed my eyes briefly.
The headache was getting worse.
When I opened them again, Miranda had moved even closer.
“Your head hurts, right?” she asked gently.
I did not answer.
She reached for the chair beside the bed and pulled it closer before sitting down.
Her hand moved toward my arm.
“You should rest.”
I watched her fingers carefully.
They touched my arm lightly.
The contact felt… neutral.
There was no spark.
No sense of familiarity.
Nothing inside me reacted.
Which was strange for someone who was supposed to be my girlfriend.
She looked up at me again.
Concern filled her expression.
“I can help,” she said softly.
“Help with what?”
“Your headache.”
Before I could respond, she stood up from the chair.
Then she moved closer to the side of the bed.
Her hand lifted slowly and settled against my temple.
She began to massage gently.
Small circular motions.
The pressure eased some of the tension in my head.
I exhaled quietly.
The relief was real.
“Better?” she asked.
“A little.”
Her fingers continued moving carefully along the side of my head.
I studied her face while she worked.
She looked focused.
Intent.
Like she wanted very badly for this moment to go well.
But something still felt off.
A strange distance sat between us.
Like two strangers pretending to know each other.
She leaned slightly closer as she continued massaging my temples.
Her hair brushed lightly against my shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.
I did not respond.
Instead I watched her.
Her eyes lifted to mine slowly.
Then something changed in her expression.
She leaned down.
And pressed her lips against mine.
The kiss lasted less than a second.
But it was long enough.
My body reacted instantly.
Not with warmth.
Not with recognition.
With rejection.
I shoved her away.
The movement was sharp enough to make the IV line pull slightly against my arm.
Miranda stumbled backward in shock.
Her eyes widened.
My chest rose and fell as I stared at her.
Something inside me twisted violently.
Confusion.
Anger.
Instinct.
All at once.
Because one thought echoed clearly through my mind.
If this woman was really my girlfriend…
Why did kissing her feel so completely wrong?