Chapter 166 Let's let him
June
The male nurse had left twenty minutes ago, and somehow I was still sitting beside Hermes on the bed—close enough to touch, far enough to pretend it didn’t break me.
I kept sneaking glances at him, trying to read his expression while he sketched absentmindedly in a notebook the hospital provided.
Why didn’t he want me to go?
Did something in him remember?
Did he feel something?
Or was it just Hermes being… Hermes?
I exhaled and stared at my hands. "Hermes— I mean, Mr. Grande, why am I not allowed to buy lunch for the nurse?" I asked carefully, watching him from the corner of my eye.
He didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink. He just kept drawing lines—long, dark, tense ones that made no artistic sense but somehow felt loud.
"Mr. Grande?" I tried again, rubbing the back of my neck, which suddenly felt too exposed. I needed him to remember. I needed him to call me June the way he used to—like he was saying something forbidden.
His father’s face flashed in my mind, his cold warning still carved into my skull. I didn’t know how long Lucien would tolerate me here without a label.
"Hermes—" I began.
"You said you’re my secretary and aide, right?" he cut in, voice sharp and direct. He placed the notebook aside and sat up straight, arms crossing.
I swallowed. "Yeah?"
God, that word hurt a little. Secretary.
We’d crossed galaxies from that.
He studied me for several long, uncomfortable seconds. His gaze didn’t feel like a stranger’s—not quite—but not like my Hermes either. Something in between. Something searching.
"Well," he said finally, deadpan, "you certainly don’t act as one."
My heart skipped.
Did guilt stir inside him? Recognition? A flicker of memory?
Maybe he felt the absence of something. Maybe he felt me.
"Uh—" I barely breathed the sound.
"Because a secretary and aide wouldn’t go out with a male nurse," he added bluntly, "and leave the person she’s supposed to be watching alone in here."
The words hit like a slap. Not because he was harsh.
Because he didn’t remember at all.
No jealousy or no possessiveness rooted in memories of us.
Just Hermes being territorial because he didn’t like being left alone.
I sighed softly and looked down at my hands. Disappointed. Hurting. Feeling stupid for hoping.
"It’s just lunch, Hermes," I murmured. "I’m getting him lunch."
Hermes's brows pinch at what I said.
"It's just lunch? Hey Miss Secretary and Aide, I believe my ears are working just fine—because I definitely heard that this lunch was based solely on the fact that I woke up from a coma."
My gaze snaps up.
Oh shit.
I… didn’t think of that.
"Uhm—it was just a random joke I made—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"Is my life a joke to you, Miss Secretary? Something you can use for a bet?" he asks, tilting his head, voice deceptively soft.
The air tightens between us as we stare at each other—him unblinking, me swallowing.
Then suddenly I burst into laughter. I can’t help it. The confusion on his face, the way he’s taking this so seriously—if only he knew. If only he remembered. If only he knew how many times I sat awake praying he would just breathe again.
"Miss Secretary, I don’t appreciate your response," he says, actually pouting.
I hold my belly and force myself to stop laughing. "I’m so sorry, Hermes. I thought you were joking. Of course your life is a priority to me. I would never take it as a joke."
He nods, turning away—still sulking—and picks up the paper and pen again.
"So you're not buying the nurse lunch, right?"
I raise a brow. What is wrong with him? Is he upset I joked about his coma… or upset I’m buying Alex lunch?
Whatever it is… it feels good. I’ve never seen this version of Hermes Grande. Whiny. Possessive. Jealous—even without his memories.
Right there, I decide: fine. I’ll go with the flow. I’ll just be myself around him. I won’t explain anything.
"Well… I’m a lady of my words, so I can’t back out of—"
"So you don’t understand the severity of what you are—" he cuts in, sharp again, but I barrel right through it.
"Would you come to lunch with us then?" I ask lightly, smiling at him.
"And maybe get some fresh air while you’re at it."
Hermes freezes. Looks at me. Presses his lips together like I just asked him to walk into a burning building.
He hums.
I blink. "I’m sorry—what was that?"
"I said, if you insist." His teeth clench as he shifts away from me, like agreeing physically pains him.
"Okay!" I said, standing up, "Let's go out."
"What do you mean Mr. Grande isn't allowed to leave the room?" I ask, staring in disbelief at the two bodyguards blocking the door.
"Under Mr. Lucien’s orders," one answers stiffly. "He is to stay in the room."
I exhale softly and turn to Hermes. His face is unreadable—too calm, too blank in a way that scares me.
"Please step aside, Miss Secretary," he says quietly.
And I obey—instantly, stupidly—without even thinking.
Hermes steps forward, hands tugging the hem of his hospital pajamas like they’re a three-piece suit.
"My father asked you to keep me confined in this room?" he asks.
One bodyguard nods. "Yes, sir. He said it’s for—"
"Well, I’m going outside," Hermes cuts him off smoothly. "Step aside or you’re dismissed."
The two bodyguards glance at each other—just once—before stepping back.
Hermes turns to me with a small, victorious smile. "We can go now."
I smile back, but weakly, stepping out of the room with him. My mind is racing.
What was Lucien playing at?
Why confine Hermes now?
And since when were these bodyguards even assigned here? They weren’t around while Hermes was unconscious.
What changed?
A sudden tap on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts.
"What are you doing? Let’s go." Hermes stands behind me, eyebrows raised.
I look around and realize I’m still rooted to the spot outside the ward door.
"Yes, of course. This way, please." I say quickly, pointing toward the elevators.
I can feel Hermes’s gaze on the back of my neck as we start walking—curious, unsettled, and just a little too observant.
___
We’re at the cafeteria, sitting side by side on the same bench. I’m tapping my phone nervously, waiting for Alex.
In my head I’m already planning to corner Ted later—ask why the bodyguards suddenly appeared, ask what Lucien is trying to pull, ask how I’m supposed to keep Hermes with me if his father wants the opposite.
I hum softly and glance at Hermes.
He’s still sketching, head bent, hair falling a little over his forehead.
A soft smile slips out of me. My hand rises on instinct to fix his hair—because I always fixed it, because he always let me.
But I stop myself just in time.
And Hermes flinches, snapping his book shut and shielding it like I’m a thief coming for it.
I almost laugh. God, it’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous and painfully sweet.
"Don’t worry, Hermes," I chuckle. "I’m not going to look at your drawing."
Before he can answer, Alex finally arrives.
"Here you are—" he beams, sliding into the seat across from me. "And you brought him—"
His smile drops the moment his eyes land on Hermes.
I swallow. "Yes. I wanted him to get some fresh air."
I glance at Hermes again and blink—his sketchbook is nowhere in sight, tossed aside, and he’s now sitting back with his arms stretched across the bench. His long fingers nearly brush my shoulders. He looks… territorial. And relaxed. And not relaxed at all.
"Okay," Alex says, smile tight. "Well… what do you guys want to eat?"
I look at Hermes, trying to silently communicate: Let me handle this. I made the promise.
"Oh no—I said I was buying lunch," I begin. "What do you want—?"
"Uhm—" Hermes leans forward immediately, clasping his hands on the table like he’s settling a negotiation.
"He wants to buy lunch. So let’s let him. I’ll have a hamburger with Swiss cheese. And a dark coffee—no sugar."
He turns to me, and I freeze.
That wasn’t the plan. Not even close.
Alex nudges his chin up at me, waiting for me to say something.
"Well—" I start, but Hermes cuts me off with a loud exhale.
"She’ll have a hamburger too. No pickles. And a large iced Americano. Put a straw in it."
My eyes widen as I snap toward him.
"Hermes… how did you know my…?"
He blinks rapidly, and I watch his eyes dart—thinking. Searching.
He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Well… you were taking too long, so I just guessed."
A beat.
"Am I right?"
I swear my heart nearly bursts. I want to hug him. Shake him. Cry.
He remembered.
Not consciously, not fully—
But his body remembered me.
His mind remembered me.
Something in him still knew me.
"Yes," I breathe quickly, turning to Alex. "That’s what we want."
Alex just stares at us—between me, between Hermes—with his lips pressed into a hard line.
He checks his phone abruptly.
"I’ve… got to go. I just got a call."
He stands already. "I’ll have someone bring your orders in a minute."
And then he’s gone. Practically fleeing.
I watch the back of his scrubs disappear with a swirl of guilt and confusion.
I bite my lip and turn to Hermes.
He’s already sketching again.
Head down, pencil moving, jaw tight—like nothing in the world happened.