Chapter 38 Chapter 38

Chapter 38 Chapter 38
_Leon’s POV_

The next few days passed in a blur, and no matter how hard I tried, I still could not remember most of my life. Every morning I woke up in the same hospital bed with the same questions filling my mind. Who was I? What had happened before the accident? And why did it feel like something important was missing?

The doctors ran tests constantly. They checked my eyes, my reflexes and asked endless questions about names, dates and memories. Sometimes I remembered small things. I remembered my mother’s gentle hands combing my hair when I was a boy, her soft voice telling me stories of brave wolves and ancient forests until I fell asleep. I remembered my father carrying me through the woods on his back after I had run too far during my first chase. His presence had calmed my fear as he pointed out the safest paths under the moonlight. I remembered standing beside Talia during our engagement ceremony. But everything else felt broken. Large parts of my memories were simply gone.

One afternoon, I sat quietly in my hospital room while staring out the window as rain tapped softly against the glass. I hated feeling like this. I hated feeling helpless. It felt like someone had taken a knife and cut pieces out of my mind.

A knock suddenly came from the door and the doctor entered the room.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked.

I shrugged slightly. "My head hurts less."

"That is good."

He checked a few things on the monitor beside my bed before looking at me carefully.

"Any new memories?"

I shook my head. "No."

The doctor's expression became thoughtful. "Sometimes memory recovery takes time."

"How much time?"

He sighed softly. "There is no exact answer."

That was the same answer he always gave me. After another short examination, he left the room and I stared down at my blanket quietly because nothing made sense anymore.

Later that evening, I accidentally overheard a conversation outside my room. The door was slightly open and I had not meant to listen, but then I heard my name and immediately became still.

The doctor's voice reached me first. "His condition is stable now."

My mother's voice sounded hopeful. "So his memories will return?"

There was a pause before the doctor answered carefully. "We do not know."

My chest tightened as he continued speaking. "The head injury was severe. The accident caused significant trauma."

My father spoke next. "But he remembers some things."

"Yes," the doctor replied. "He remembers fragments and small pieces of memory. That is actually a positive sign."

My mother's voice trembled slightly. "What should we do?"

The doctor answered calmly. "You can help him remember slowly. Show him familiar places, familiar people and familiar photographs."

Then his tone became more serious. "But do not pressure him."

"Why?" Talia asked softly.

"Because stress can make recovery more difficult. If you push too hard, it could actually worsen his condition."

I heard my mother sniff quietly while the doctor continued. "There is also something else you need to prepare yourselves for."

The hallway became silent.

"What?" my father asked.

The doctor's answer came slowly. "There is a possibility that some memories may never return."

My stomach dropped. Even though I had already feared that possibility, hearing it aloud felt different. It felt real.

My mother gasped softly. "No..."

The doctor sighed. "I am not saying that will happen. Many patients recover their memories over time."

"But it is possible?" my father asked.

"Yes."

The silence that followed felt heavy until Talia finally spoke. "I will help him remember." Her voice sounded determined.

"I will do everything I can."

The doctor sounded pleased. "That would be beneficial."

"I visit him everyday anyway," Talia said. "I can show him photographs and remind him of things."

"That is a good idea."

The conversation eventually ended and I quickly looked away from the door before anyone entered. A few moments later, my mother walked inside and smiled warmly at me.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

I forced a small smile. "Better."

But inside, my chest felt heavy because some of my memories might never return and the thought terrified me.

The next morning, Talia arrived carrying flowers again. Every single day she brought flowers. Sometimes roses. Sometimes lilies. Sometimes beautiful bouquets that filled the entire room with sweet scents. She placed them carefully inside a vase near the window before smiling brightly.

"There. Much better."

I watched her quietly. She had been incredibly kind since I woke up. She never missed a visit and she always brought something; flowers, books, food, photographs. Anything she thought might help.

Objectively, she was being the perfect fiancée, yet something felt strange. I could not explain it. The feeling was small and almost invisible, but it was there every time I looked at her. Every time she smiled. Every time she touched my hand. Something inside me whispered that I was forgetting something important and the feeling frustrated me endlessly.

Talia pulled a chair beside my bed. "Ready?"

"For what?"

She smiled. "I brought something."

Then she lifted a large photo album onto her lap. "More memory therapy."

I chuckled faintly. "You sound like a doctor."

She laughed softly. "Maybe I missed my calling."

The album looked old and expensive. Talia carefully opened it and the first page contained photographs from our childhood. I stared at them. A young version of me stood beside Talia and we looked happy.

"That was the summer festival," Talia explained. "We were twelve."

I studied the picture as small fragments surfaced: laughter, sunlight and music. Then the memory disappeared again.

Talia turned another page and more photographs appeared. There were family gatherings, birthdays and pack celebrations. Slowly, she explained each one. Sometimes I remembered. Sometimes I did not. But she never seemed impatient.

Hours passed that way and for the first time since waking up, I felt slightly hopeful. Maybe my memories really would return.

Then Talia reached a section containing engagement photographs. I immediately recognized myself. The images were beautiful. Talia wore a silver dress. I wore a black suit. Our families stood beside us and everyone looked happy.

"That was the best day of my life," Talia said softly.

I glanced toward her and saw the emotion in her blue eyes before looking back at the photographs. Something about them felt important.

I slowly turned another page and more engagement photographs appeared. There were guests, decorations, food tables and pack members.

Then suddenly my attention locked onto someone. It was a girl.

My entire body froze.

The photograph showed a crowd of guests and near the edge of the picture stood a dark-haired girl holding a tray of drinks. She was not the focus of the photograph and most people would not even look at her twice. But the moment I saw her, something inside me reacted.

My heart skipped a beat. I stared harder. The girl looked familiar.....very familiar. A strange feeling spread through my chest, almost like recognition.

I frowned. Who was she?

I pointed toward the photograph. "Talia."

She looked down. "What?"

"This girl."

For a brief second, something flashed across her face. She was surprised. It vanished so quickly that I almost thought I imagined it.

"What about her?" she asked.

I continued staring at the dark-haired girl. "I don't know."

My headache started growing stronger. "But she feels familiar."

The moment those words left my mouth, Talia suddenly grabbed the album and snapped it shut.

I blinked in surprise. "What happened?"

Talia smiled quickly. "Oh, her."

She waved her hand dismissively. "She was just a servant."

"A servant?"

"Yes."

She reopened the album on another page. "She is nobody important."

I frowned. "But..."

Talia interrupted immediately. "Look at this picture. You looked so handsome here."

I barely glanced at it because my attention remained on the previous image. The dark-haired girl. Why had she felt so familiar?

"I want to see the other picture again."

Talia's smile faltered slightly. "There is no reason."

"I just..." I rubbed my forehead.

A strange ache spread through my head. "It feels like I know her."

Talia laughed softly. "No."

Her answer came too quickly. "You don't."

I looked at her. "You seem very certain."

"Because I am."

She squeezed my hand. "Trust me, Leon."

Her smile looked warm, perfect and convincing......yet something about it made my unease grow.

"She was just a servant," Talia repeated. "Nothing more."

I stared at her silently, then back at the album and then back at her again. For some reason, I did not believe that answer. I could not explain why. I had no proof....no memory.....nothing but just a feeling.

That feeling refused to leave. Talia quickly continued turning pages. She pointed out relatives, friends and pack members while talking constantly, almost as if she was trying to distract me. Eventually, I stopped asking but my thoughts remained trapped on that photograph.

The dark-haired girl. The tray of drinks. The strange familiarity.

Who was she? Why had my heart reacted that way? And why had Talia seemed so uncomfortable when I mentioned her?

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. Eventually, visiting hours ended. Talia stood up, leaned down and kissed my cheek.

"Get some rest."

I nodded. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course."

She smiled. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Then she left. The room became quiet again and I stared toward the closed door for several seconds before slowly looking toward the photo album she had accidentally left behind on the bedside table.

My heartbeat quickened slightly. The photograph. I needed to see it again.

I reached toward the album and pain shot through my ribs immediately. I grimaced but kept moving. Slowly, I pulled the album onto my lap and began turning pages.

One page after another passed beneath my fingers until I finally reached the engagement photographs.

My pulse accelerated. I flipped through them carefully. But the picture was gone. Confused, I searched again. Then again...and again.

The photograph had disappeared completely. She had removed it. I stared down at the empty space where the photograph should have been and felt my chest tighten.

Why was she so adamant about that one picture? She did not want me to see it at all.

I slowly closed the album before looking toward the hospital window. Outside, dark clouds gathered over the city and rain began falling softly.

Meanwhile, one question echoed endlessly inside my head.

Who was the dark-haired girl?

And why did it feel like forgetting her might be the biggest mistake of my life?