Chapter 138

~ Octavia ~

Hanging out with a woman like Olga felt like stepping into a pocket of warmth on a chilly day. She carried herself with a quiet strength and a motherly affection that wrapped around me like a well-worn blanket. I found myself angry at the fog in my own mind for robbing me of the memory of someone so genuinely kind. She listened intently, offered gentle wisdom, and made the sterile hospital room feel less like a cage and more like a place where real connection could still bloom.

After her visit, I made Franklin promise that Olga would return soon. He smiled and agreed without hesitation, clearly pleased by how quickly the two of us had clicked. Before he left to drop her off, he mentioned the shopping bags he had brought—comfortable clothes to replace the thin, impersonal hospital gowns that made me feel more like a patient than a person. The wound on my head was healing nicely; the heavy bandages had been reduced to a lighter dressing, though the area still felt tender and foreign.

Once Franklin and Olga departed, the room grew quieter. I reached for my phone and dialed Clinton’s number. It rang several times before switching to voicemail. I tried again, worry creeping in as the line went unavailable. "I hope he’s okay," I mumbled to the empty room, a small knot of unease tightening in my chest.

I headed to the bathroom to pee, the soft shuffle of my slippers the only sound. As I finished and washed my hands, I heard the ward door open and close with a quiet click. Thinking it was Franklin returning early, I called out lightly, "Franklin?"

No response.

"Franklin?" I called again, frowning as I dried my hands.

Still nothing.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I froze. A familiar face stood just inside the door—someone I recognized on some instinctive level, though I couldn’t place where or how I knew them. The person offered a small, knowing smile.

"Hello, Octavia."

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice cautious but steady.

"You know who I am, but you must have forgotten," the person replied calmly.

"How did you get past the nurses’ station?" I pressed, glancing toward the door.

"I created a small distraction—a false fire alarm. They all rushed out, and I slipped through," they explained with a casual shrug.

"But that’s wrong," I said, unease prickling along my spine.

"Hmm, maybe," the person shrugged again, unbothered. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it?" I asked slowly, staying near the bathroom doorway.

"Before I say anything, do you promise not to tell anyone? Especially your husband, Franklin?"

I hesitated, instincts warring inside me, but curiosity and the desperate need for answers won out. "Okay... I promise."

"Good. First, I’m a good friend of your husband, but he doesn’t know I’m here. And I know you won’t tell him. This stays between us—a little secret."

I nodded, though my stomach twisted.

"I know how to help you remember every memory you’ve lost," the person continued, eyes gleaming with quiet intensity. "You want that, right?"

"I do," I admitted, my heart beating faster.

"Perfect. Then meet me tomorrow evening, around this same time. If any nurses question you, make up an excuse and slip out. Meet me outside at the hospital park. We can talk there. I’ll tell you everything you need to know."

"Everything I need?" I echoed, the promise sounding almost too good to be true.

"Yes. Everything."

"Okay," I said, swallowing hard. "I’ll meet you at the park tomorrow evening."

"Good. See you then, Octavia. And remember—this is our little secret. Don’t tell anyone."

With that, the person slipped out as quietly as they had come. I stood frozen for several long seconds, replaying the strange encounter. The face had been so familiar, yet the name and exact connection remained locked away in the fog. My pulse still raced when Franklin finally returned.

"Hey, sorry I took so long," he said, stepping inside with a warm smile. "My secretary called about some urgent work matters."

"It’s fine," I replied, forcing my voice to sound normal as I changed into the comfortable clothes he had brought—soft leggings and a loose sweater that finally made me feel more human.

When I turned around, he smiled appreciatively. "It looks hot on you."

"Hot is the last thing I look right now," I said with a self-conscious laugh.

"So you think I’m lying?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I mumbled, though his compliment sent a flutter through my chest.

He stepped closer and kissed me lightly. "Sunshine, you look so hot that I want to make love to you right here, right now," he murmured against my lips.

I blushed crimson, heat flooding my face. "But I can’t," he continued, pulling back with visible restraint. "I have to control myself because of your current condition."

"You just made me feel speechless," I admitted, still flushed.

"I know," he said with a soft, proud grin.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind drifting back to the mysterious visitor. Franklin noticed my distant expression.

"Hey, everything alright? You look a little far away for a moment."

"Everything is fine," I assured him quickly, offering a small smile.

"Okay. Hungry?"

"I’m good for now."

"Want me to stay with you tonight?" he asked, already moving closer.

To avoid raising any suspicion, I nodded. "Yes, please do."

He climbed onto the bed beside me, and we cuddled close, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders. I tried to focus on the comfort of his presence, but the promise I had made to the stranger in the ward kept echoing in my mind.

The next evening, my mother was with me but had fallen asleep in the chair after a long, exhausting day. Franklin wasn’t present, making it the perfect window to slip away without raising alarms. I waited until the hallway seemed quiet, then quietly left the ward.

At the nurses’ station, one of them stopped me just as the mysterious visitor had predicted.

"Where are you going?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"My husband advised me yesterday to go out and exercise a little—stretch my legs since I’ve been cooped up in the ward," I lied smoothly. "I need to follow his advice."

The two nurses exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at me.

"If you need to stretch, at least use one of our wheelchairs," the second nurse suggested.

"I’m okay, really. I don’t need the wheelchair. I feel strong enough to walk," I insisted.

"Alright, but try to return soon. We don’t usually allow patients out at this time of night. Since your husband recommended it, we’ll make an exception—but hurry back."

"Thank you," I said, offering a grateful smile before heading toward the exit.

Once outside in the hospital park, the evening air felt cool and refreshing against my skin. The benches were mostly empty, shadows lengthening under the soft glow of pathway lights. I waited, heart beating faster, scanning the area.

Eventually, the familiar figure appeared, stepping out from behind a cluster of trees.

"You finally came," I said, relief and nervousness mixing in my voice.

"Yes," the person replied calmly.

"Let’s sit on the bench," I suggested, gesturing toward a secluded spot.

"Sure."

As we walked side by side toward the bench, I felt a sudden sharp prick on my arm. I glanced down and saw a syringe being withdrawn from my skin. My eyes widened as I looked up at the person, but my vision was already blurring, my limbs growing heavy and weak.

"Why... why..." I stammered, struggling to focus.

Before everything went dark, I caught the faint outline of the person’s smile. Their voices drifted to me like something from a dream.

"Sleep tight, Octavia."

And then the world faded completely.