Chapter 21: THE DEVIL GOT ME THIS TIME.

Chapter 21: THE DEVIL GOT ME THIS TIME.
“Okay… We’re sorry, but your sister couldn’t make it. She just lost her memory. But she’s stable and doing fine,” the doctor said, his tone careful but heavy.

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. What did he just say?

“What?” My voice cracked, louder than I intended. “She lost her memory, and you’re standing there telling me she’s fine? Do you even hear yourself?”

The words felt unreal. My chest tightened, my breath came shallow. I stepped closer, my hands trembling.

“Please… tell me this is a joke. I can’t accept it. How am I supposed to explain this to my mom? How am I supposed to believe it myself?”

But the doctor didn’t answer. He repeated the same cold sentence, then turned and left, his white coat disappearing down the corridor.

I stood there, stranded in shock. My legs felt weak, like they could no longer carry me. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nose, making me dizzy. I forced myself to take a deep breath, but it came out broken. Another followed, heavier.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening to Betty.

Finally, I gathered enough strength to move toward her room. My steps dragged, as if my body didn’t want me to face what waited inside. At the door, I paused. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. Slowly, I leaned to peek inside—

The bed was empty.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. Still empty.

“No… no, no, no.” Panic surged through me. I shoved the door open and rushed in. But the room was silent, sterile, and bare. My sister wasn’t there.

My hands shook as I pressed them to my face. Where is she?

I bolted back into the hall, searching frantically. I hurried to the doctors’ office, demanding answers, but no one could tell me where Betty was.

She was just here. Where did they take her?

My heart hammered against my ribs as I whispered to myself, “Where could my sister be?”

My vision blurred. My head spun. Fear was clawing at me like sharp nails.

Then, just as I thought I might collapse, I spotted a doctor—a woman, calm and collected, walking from the far end of the hall. Desperation gave me speed. I ran to her, nearly colliding.

“Please!” I gasped. “My sister—Betty—where is she? I was told she was here, but she’s not. I need to see her. Please, where’s the doctor in charge of her?”

The woman placed a steadying hand on my arm. “Calm down. She’s with him right now. I just came from there. Follow this hallway.”

Without another word, I took off. My legs carried me faster than I thought possible.

And then—I saw her.

In another wing, in another room, Betty lay on a bed, her eyes open, her face pale but alive.

“Betty!” I shouted, relief bursting through me as I rushed toward her.

But before I could reach her, a firm hand stopped me. The doctor blocked my path, ushering me back toward the door.

“Not yet,” he said firmly.

I didn’t even realize I was struggling until I finally let go, obeying his command. My chest heaved as I backed into the hallway, slumping into a chair.

I buried my face in my hands. My sister was awake. That should have been a miracle. But the doctor’s words echoed inside me: she lost her memory.

Tears pricked my eyes.

To distract myself, I pulled out my phone. A WhatsApp notification blinked. An unknown number. The message was set to “view once.”

I froze. My finger hovered above it. “Why would it be on one view?” I whispered.

Before I could tap it, my phone rang. Darius.

I hesitated, torn between the strange message and my husband’s call. With a shaky breath, I answered.

“Hey, darling,” Darius said warmly.

“Hi,” I replied softly, forcing sweetness into my tone, though my voice trembled.

“How are you?” I asked, pretending everything was fine. But Darius wasn’t fooled.

“I’m feeling a bit better today. How’s Betty?” His voice carried quiet concern, almost as if he already knew the truth.

“She’s… fine,” I lied quickly, biting back the crack in my voice.

We talked for a while, but my mind was elsewhere, circling around Betty, the doctor’s words, and that unread message. Then another doctor called me, and I hurriedly ended the call.

As I followed the doctor back, I whispered to myself, “Maybe Darius already knows what happened…”

Inside the room, the doctor gave me a sharp look. “You need to stay calm around your sister. Earlier, your sudden behavior could have harmed her.”

Shame burned my cheeks. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Then my gaze fell on Betty. She was awake, sitting upright, her eyes open. Joy lit my chest.

“My sister is awake,” I said with a trembling smile as I stepped toward her.

But she didn’t react. Her eyes stared past me, blank and distant, as if I weren’t there.

“Betty?” I waved my hand in front of her. Nothing. My smile fell.

Tears blurred my vision. “Oh no… she really doesn’t remember.”

I tried again, calling her name, begging her to recognize me. But she just looked away, silent.

The doctor came closer, speaking softly. “Her fall left her in a critical state. She needs time to recover. Be patient.”

But how could I be patient when my own sister couldn’t remember me?

I clutched my chest, feeling it splinter. My mind screamed to believe she’d get better, but my heart was drowning.

How could I tell Mom this? How could I convince her, when I couldn’t even convince myself?

I sat with Betty for what felt like hours, holding her hand though she didn’t squeeze back. Finally, I knew I couldn’t delay any longer. Mom was still waiting outside, unaware of everything.

I rose slowly, my legs heavy, and walked out. The hallway stretched endlessly before me, each door I passed feeling heavier than the last.

When I reached the waiting area, my mom was sitting exactly where I left her, hope etched on her face. She looked up as I sat beside her.

I took her hand, squeezing gently. My throat tightened. “Mom… you have to stay calm. Whatever happens, you need to be strong.”

Her brows furrowed in worry, but she nodded slowly.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Mom… we just ran into another problem. Betty has lost her memory.” My voice cracked, and tears spilled down my cheeks. “I didn’t believe it at first. I prayed it wasn’t true. But when I spoke to her, she didn’t recognize me. Not even once.”

“WHAT?!” My mother’s voice broke, filled with disbelief and horror.

I reached for her hand again. “Please, Mom, you have to stay calm—”

But before I could finish, she pulled away and bolted toward the hospital hall.

“Mom, wait!” I cried, running after her. But she wouldn’t stop. She needed to see Betty
with her own eyes.

And deep down, I understood. Because if I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it either.