Chapter 79

Chapter 79
ADRIEN

What Amy said last night was like a key, unlocking the door I had kept tightly sealed in my heart. I barely slept, every single word she said echoing in my mind—"She needs the Adrien who protects her, loves her, makes her happy."

I kept replaying every moment between us, and the more I remembered, the more I realized what a complete disaster I'd been.

When she'd asked for help with English writing, I'd dismissed her for my hockey training. When I saw her with Callum, instead of recognizing my own jealousy, I'd lashed out with cruel words. Worse, I wasn’t by her side when she got hurt.

And her accident—she’s lost her memories and six months of her life—and it’s all my fault.

I really was an asshole. An arrogant, self-absorbed asshole who had hurt her in every way possible. Maybe she was better off having forgotten me entirely.

But the thought of losing her forever, of never having the chance to show her who I could be, was unbearable.

The problem was, I had no idea how to make Kaia remember me, or fall in love with me again. I was completely lost, which was why I needed Amy's help. She was the only one who understood both of us, the only bridge I had left to the girl who had forgotten our entire relationship.

I knew Amy would visit Kaia today—she'd been going every day since the accident. So I stationed myself outside the hospital entrance at dawn, waiting like some pathetic lovesick fool. The morning air was crisp, and I watched as patients and their families streamed in and out of the automatic doors. Some looked hopeful, others carried the weight of bad news on their shoulders. I wondered which category I fell into.

When Amy finally appeared, I felt my heart rate spike. She looked surprised to see me, but not entirely shocked.

"Adrien? What are you doing here so early?"

"I need to talk to you," I said, falling into step beside her. "About Kaia. About what you said yesterday."

Amy studied my face carefully as we found a quiet corner in the hospital lobby. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows, making everything feel more sterile and clinical than it already was.

"How is she?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Physically, she's recovering well. The doctors are pleased with her progress." Amy paused, choosing her words carefully. "But mentally... she's struggling with something else now."

"What do you mean?"

"The scholarship situation. She's worried about the English writing exam in three weeks. You know how the school's policy works—if she doesn't maintain her academic standing..."

"That's fucking ridiculous!" The words exploded out of me before I could stop them. Several people in the lobby turned to stare, and Amy quickly shushed me.

"Lower your voice," she hissed.

"Sorry, it's just—" I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated beyond belief. "These damn regulations. If I could, I'd trade all my honors to get the school to restore her scholarship. Every single one of them."

"But you know Kaia would never accept that, Adrien. She's too proud, too independent. She wants to earn everything herself."

I knew Amy was right, but it didn't make the situation any less infuriating. Here was this brilliant, hardworking girl who had lost everything because of an accident that wasn't even her fault, and the school was still holding her to impossible standards.

"Has she..." I hesitated, my pride warring with my desperate need to know. "Has she mentioned me at all?"

Amy's expression grew sympathetic, but she shook her head slowly. The silence that followed felt like a physical blow. Even though I'd expected this answer, it still hurt more than I thought possible.

"I want to see her," I said suddenly. "I want to visit her."

"Adrien, I don't think that's a good idea. She's still confused about her memories, and seeing you might only make things worse—"

"Please." The word came out more broken than I intended. "I just... I miss her so much, Amy. I know I screwed everything up, I know I was terrible to her, but I can't stop thinking about her. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't focus on anything. I just need to see that she's okay."

Amy looked at me for a long moment, and I saw something shift in her expression. Maybe she saw how desperate I really was, how much I was falling apart without Kaia.

"I can't let you go in," she said slowly. "But... maybe you could just peek through the door? Just to see that she's okay?"

I nodded eagerly, grateful for even this small mercy. "Yes, anything. Please."

Amy led me through the hospital corridors to the familiar wing where Kaia's room was located. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it. When we reached her door, Amy positioned herself as a lookout while I carefully approached.

The door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow gap, I could see into the room. There she was—Kaia, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, a textbook open in her lap. She was wearing a simple white hospital gown, her dark hair falling in gentle waves around her shoulders. Even in this sterile environment, even looking pale and tired, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

She was frowning slightly as she read, occasionally making notes in the margins. I could see the concentration on her face, the determination that had always been one of her most attractive qualities. She looked fragile, though—thinner than before.

I wanted to burst through that door and take her in my arms. I wanted to tell her everything—how sorry I was, how much I loved her, how I'd do anything to make things right. But all I could do was stand there like a creep, stealing glimpses of the girl who no longer remembered loving me.

"She's studying," I whispered to Amy. "Even now, she's pushing herself."

"That's Kaia," Amy replied softly. "She never gives up."

I was about to ask if we could stay a little longer when I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. Amy and I both turned, and my heart sank when I saw who it was.

Mrs. Lilian, Kaia's mother, was walking toward us with a basket of fresh fruit in one hand and a small, adorable stuffed rabbit in the other. She was dressed elegantly as always, but her face showed the strain of worry that had been her constant companion since Kaia's accident.

When she reached us, she gave Amy a polite nod of acknowledgment. "Amy," she said simply, her voice warm but tired.

"Mrs. Lilian," Amy replied softly.

Just as I was about to greet her, she averted her gaze and walked straight past us, pushing open the door.

Throughout the entire brief encounter, her eyes never once moved toward me. I stood there, just a few feet away, and she treated me as if I were completely invisible.

I guess this is what I deserve.