Chapter 146 Be yourself
Chapter 146 Be yourself
Violet,
It wasn’t as easy as I had convinced myself it would be.
Knox grew more uncomfortable around me with each passing day, and every time I noticed it, something sharp twisted in my chest. The smallest things unsettled him. When he reached for a glass, he would pause halfway and glance at me, brows knitting together as if the answer might be written on my face.
“Did I use to drink it like this?” he would ask.
Or when he laughed at something Cyrus did, the sound would fade too quickly, replaced by uncertainty.
“Did I like this before?”
It was as though he was studying an invisible script, afraid of stepping off his marks. He watched himself constantly, measuring every reaction, every word, trying to mirror a past he couldn’t see. I saw it in the way his shoulders stiffened when he caught my gaze, in the way his hands curled and uncurled as if rehearsing the right way to exist.
I understood that his entire world had been ripped apart and rearranged without warning. Anyone would struggle after that. Still, no matter how much I tried to reason with myself, I couldn’t understand why he was punishing himself like this.
I didn’t want him to copy his old self.
I wanted him to be happy as he was now, even if this version of him felt unfamiliar, even if it scared both of us.
It had been a long week since they returned. Time blurred into paperwork, meetings, and endless legal briefings. I moved from unfinished company tasks to handling lawsuits and other legal matters tied to them, barely pausing long enough to breathe. Coffee went cold on my desk more than once. My temples throbbed constantly, a dull ache that sharpened whenever I raised my voice or focused too hard.
As if that weren’t enough, Cyrus had developed a fever the previous night.
When I pressed my lips to his forehead, the heat startled me. He whimpered softly in his sleep, lashes damp against his cheeks. The private medical team assigned especially to him arrived quickly, calm and efficient. They said it was a common flu. A simple reaction to the sudden change in environment, his small body adjusting once again.
I nodded and thanked them, but the words felt hollow.
Somewhere, somehow, I felt like I was failing.
“Boss. The head of the medical team is here!”
Mirah’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“Let him come in,” I replied, rubbing the corner of my forehead. The faint throb there pulsed harder, almost punishing me for every word I spoke.
The door opened, and Dr. Gary walked in with measured steps, his white coat immaculate, his expression carefully neutral.
“Good afternoon, Boss,” he greeted, offering a polite smile.
“Please sit down, Dr. Gary. I’ve been waiting for your visit.”
He took the seat across from my desk, placing a slim folder in front of him.
“I apologize for the delay. We just received the final results and analysis,” he said, then paused just long enough to let the weight of his next words settle. “It’s a positive response.”
My eyes widened before I could stop myself. My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
“Please explain.”
“The team you assigned to work with us informed us that, to prevent memory recovery, Mr. Knox had been administered certain drugs over a prolonged period,” he said carefully. “We discontinued them. During the process, he experienced some discomfort, but he’s responding well to treatment. His recovery has already begun.”
My breath caught, subtle but undeniable.
“How long will it take?” I asked, keeping my voice even through sheer force of will.
“Approximately six months to a year,” he replied. “It depends on the extent of the damage inflicted on his brain. But we are optimistic. We believe he will recover.”
I leaned back slightly. “What about long-term damage?”
Dr. Gary folded his hands. “There will be effects. Headaches, periods of drowsiness, confusion. He was treated like a lab subject for a long time. Recovery will be slow, but he will be under constant supervision.”
I nodded once. “Thank you. I trust you. Make sure nothing else goes wrong.”
“There is one more thing,” he added. “We’ve assigned psychiatrists to Ms. Erica. She’s showing signs of significant mental distress, and we’re focusing on stabilizing her condition.”
“That’s good,” I said without hesitation. “She was confined in a mental facility for a long time. That’s why I asked you to handle her case as well. As long as they get better, nothing else matters.”
He stood. “We won’t disappoint you. Thank you for your trust.”
I nodded, watching him leave. The door closed softly behind him.
Mirah saw him off while I returned to my work, forcing my attention back to numbers and reports. My vision blurred for a moment, and I blinked hard, grounding myself.
A knock interrupted the silence.
“Come in,” I said absently.
The door opened.
My head lifted instantly.
Knox stood there, holding Cyrus’s hand. Cyrus beamed the moment he saw me, his dimples carving deep lines into his cheeks.
“Mamma!”
I pushed back my chair and stood, my headache forgotten.
“Hi,” Knox said with a small smile. “Busy?”
“A bit,” I replied, crouching to Cyrus’s level before straightening again. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Well,” he hesitated, shifting his weight, “I thought maybe spending time with you would help.”
“Family time?” I teased lightly, reaching up to smooth his hair. He flinched almost imperceptibly before relaxing. “Thanks for coming. I missed you both.”
He nodded, then glanced down at Cyrus. “He was crying too. The fever went down. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”
I chuckled, the sound genuine. “Do I look disturbed? Come here.”
I led them to the private lounge and sat on the couch. Knox joined me, carefully placing Cyrus between us. Cyrus immediately tried to climb onto my lap, tiny hands tugging at my sleeve.
“I was thinking of going out,” Knox said suddenly. “Is that alright?”
I froze, watching him instead of answering. Cyrus continued his determined attempt to crawl higher, his small weight grounding me.
“Knox,” I said quietly, “what are you doing?”
He stiffened.
“I’ve been noticing this pattern,” I continued. “You keep asking me for permission. For everything. You’re still Knox. Whatever you do, just do it.”
The words came out sharper than I intended. Panic fluttered under my ribs.
He looked uncomfortable, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know what I used to do. It’s like—”
“Stop,” I cut in. “You don’t need to do anything you used to do. Just be yourself.”
“What I used to be was a criminal,” he blurted out, voice strained. “A playboy and—”
“Do you want to be that?” I asked.
He fell silent. His gaze dropped to the floor, conflict etched across his face.
“Do whatever you want, Knox,” I said softly. “I don’t want you chasing the ghost of your past. Be whoever you want to be. In this world, I would do anything to have you back in my life. So don’t worry.”
He swallowed.
“What if I can’t remember you?”
“Then get to know me again,” I replied, my voice breaking despite my efforts. “You don’t need to remember the past. Can you love me now? The woman in front of you? Not as your wife. Not as the mother of your child.”
Cyrus finally managed to climb into my lap, chewing on the fabric of my shirt.
“All I want is you, Knox.”
He stared at me, hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. For a moment, I thought he might pull away.
Instead, he leaned in.
My heart skipped.
His lips pressed against mine, tentative but real, while Cyrus giggled softly between us, completely unaware of the fragile miracle unfolding around him.