Chapter 140: Who Was He?

"Stop teasing her and go shower. She’s a tomato," Mom said, smiling gently.

I scoffed. "Who’s a tomato?"

Mom’s smile widened slightly, but Sylvia only shook her head.

There was something amused in her eyes.

She took the bag from Dad and turned toward the bathroom. Her footsteps were soft against the polished floor as she walked away from the bed.

When she reached the bathroom door, she opened it.

Before stepping inside, she looked back at me. Our eyes met, and for some reason, my heart skipped.

Sylvia gave me a small smile before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

The soft click of the door sounded louder than it should have.

I let out a deep breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.

Finally, she’s gone.

I wasn’t sure why I felt relieved.

Maybe because she had been teasing me nonstop.

Or maybe because every time Sylvia looked at me like that, my heart did something strange that I couldn’t understand.

I lowered my gaze to my hands. My fingers still felt warm from where hers had been wrapped around mine.

I slowly flexed them.

I looked up at Mom, who was still watching me.

She had a small smile on her face, but there was something else in her eyes.

Something I couldn’t understand.

I really wanted to ask her about Sylvia, but I didn’t know how it would sound. I had already asked several questions, and everyone seemed to be avoiding certain answers.

Still, I wanted to ask. I couldn’t keep pretending I wasn’t curious.

"Mom, did I know Sylvia before?" I finally asked slowly.

Mom stared at me for a moment. She didn’t answer immediately.

The room suddenly felt quieter. Even the soft beeping of the monitor seemed distant as I waited for her response.

Mom was the one who could never lie to me. At least, that’s what I believed.

She slowly smiled and reached toward my face. Her thumb brushed gently against my cheek. The warmth of her touch made me relax a little.

"Do you want the truth or the fabricated truth?" she asked slowly, holding my gaze.

I blinked.

Truth or fabricated truth?

The words confused me.

What does she mean by that?

I searched her face, trying to understand what she wasn’t saying. Her expression remained calm, but there was a strange seriousness behind her eyes.

"I want the truth," I answered quietly.

Mom gave me a small nod before patting my head.

"Since you want the truth, I will tell you later, but for now, just rest and avoid forcing yourself to remember," Mom said calmly. "Just get well so that we can go home, alright?"

I stared at Mom for a moment.

I wanted to ask why she couldn’t tell me now. I wanted to know what the truth was.

I wanted to know who Sylvia really was to me.

But Mom had already made it clear that she wasn’t going to answer.

So I nodded. "Okay."

I didn’t push any further since no one wanted to say anything.

I slowly leaned back against the pillow. The pillow felt soft against the back of my head, but my thoughts refused to settle.

I stared blankly at the ceiling without saying or thinking about anything.

At least, I tried not to think.

The white ceiling above me remained completely still. There was a faint hum from the air conditioner overhead. Cool air brushed against my face and moved a few loose strands of my hair.

The monitor beside my bed continued its steady beeping. The sound should have been comforting.

Instead, my mind kept returning to the same question.

Who was Sylvia to me?

I knew what she had told me.

My girlfriend.

She had said it so naturally.

And somehow, even without remembering her, being close to her didn’t feel completely wrong.

There was something familiar about her.

Something my mind couldn’t recognize but my body seemed to remember.

The way my fingers had tightened around hers when she tried to leave. The way my chest warmed whenever she smiled at me.

The way I had felt safe when she held my hand.

But if she really was my girlfriend, why did everyone seem so careful whenever she was mentioned?

Why did Mom look at her like that?

Why had Sylvia lied about not knowing my parents?

I frowned slightly.

There was something I was missing. I just didn’t know what it was.

I was still staring at the ceiling when a sound suddenly broke through the silence.

A phone began ringing.

I turned my head. Sylvia’s phone was lying on the bedside table. The screen lit up.

I saw Dad move slightly, probably intending to pick it up.

Before he could, I reached for it. My movements were quicker than I expected.

I wrapped my fingers around the phone and pulled it toward me.

I didn’t know why I had done it.

I just wanted to know who was calling her.

Maybe I was curious.

Maybe I simply wanted to know more about her.

Or maybe there was another reason I didn’t want to admit.

I glanced down at the caller ID.

Troublesome Headie.

My eyebrows pulled together.

Troublesome Headie?

Who was that?

The name alone made something uncomfortable twist inside me.

I stared at the screen for another second.

The phone continued ringing in my hand.

My chest tightened as a slow, painful feeling spread through it.

I didn’t understand where the feeling was coming from.

It wasn’t exactly pain.

It was something sharper. Something that made my stomach feel heavy.

My jaw clenched.

Who was this?

Why was someone saved in Sylvia’s phone as Troublesome Headie?

Without wasting another second, I swiped and brought the phone to my ear without saying anything.

For a moment, there was silence. Then a man’s voice came through.

"Hey, baby girl."

My entire body stiffened.

The voice was warm, familiar, and sweet.

My grip tightened around the phone.

Baby girl?

My heart gave a painful thump. Something hot rushed through my chest. My fingers squeezed the phone harder.

My eyes turned bloodshot as my jaw tightened.

Who was he?

Why was he calling Sylvia a baby girl?

I remained silent.

Maybe he would realize Sylvia wasn’t the one holding the phone and hang up. But he didn’t.

"Hello." His voice came again when I didn’t say anything. "Can you hear me?"

I stared straight ahead. My heart was beating harder now. I could hear it beneath the steady sound of the monitor.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t think of what to say.

My mind was suddenly filled with questions.

My fingers trembled slightly. I brought the phone down and immediately ended the call. The screen went dark.

For a moment, I simply stared at it. My reflection was faintly visible on the black screen.

I looked pale. My lips were pressed into a thin line.

I didn’t understand myself.

Why was I this upset?

So why did hearing another man’s voice make my chest hurt?

Mom looked at me calmly. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

I looked at her. For a second, I wanted to tell her that something was wrong.

I wanted to ask who the man was. But the words refused to come out. Instead, I forced a smile.

It was probably a terrible attempt because I could feel how stiff it was.

"Yes, Mom."

Mom continued looking at me. She didn’t believe me.

I could tell from the way her eyes stayed on my face.

"Who was that?" Mom asked instead of agreeing with me that there was no problem.

I lowered my eyes. I didn’t answer.

What could I even say?

That I had answered Sylvia’s phone because I wanted to know who was calling her.

That I didn’t like the way that man called her?

That hearing the words "baby girl" had made something painful twist inside my chest?

I didn’t understand it myself. So I said nothing.

I placed Sylvia’s phone back on the table and lay back quietly. The mattress shifted beneath my weight.

I pulled in a slow breath and closed my eyes.

Dad shook his head and finally sat down on the chair Sylvia had been sitting on before.

The chair made a faint sound as his weight settled onto it.

I kept my eyes closed. The painful feeling in my chest remained.

It didn’t disappear.

Instead, it seemed to sit there, heavy and uncomfortable.

Who was that to Sylvia?

The question appeared again.

Who was he?

Why was he calling her that nickname?

I clenched my fingers against the blanket.

Or wasn’t she my girlfriend?

That question made my chest tighten even more.

She had told me she was my girlfriend, and I believed her.

At least, I wanted to believe her because my body remembered things my mind couldn’t.

Was that enough?

I didn’t know.

Different thoughts flooded my head one after another.

My stomach twisted.

I hated that I couldn’t remember.

If I remembered Sylvia, maybe I would know who that man was.

Maybe I would know whether I had any reason to feel jealous.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling again. The white surface blurred slightly.

I blinked.

No.

I couldn’t cry.

I didn’t even know why I wanted to cry.

Mom moved closer to me. Without saying anything, she gently pulled my blanket up a little.

The soft fabric covered my legs and settled around me. Her hand rested on top of it, and I turned to look at her.

She gave me a small smile, and I returned it weakly.

She didn’t ask again about the phone.

I turned my gaze toward the bathroom.

The door was still closed, and Sylvia was still inside.

For a moment, all I could hear was the faint sound of running water from behind the door.

The sound of water eventually stopped, and I lifted my head slightly.

A few seconds later, the bathroom door finally opened. Sylvia stepped out and closed the door behind her.

My eyes immediately went to her.

She looked fresh from the shower, her hair slightly damp. A few strands rested against the side of her face.

She held the bag of clothes in one hand.

Then her eyes found mine, and she smiled.

And for some reason, the painful feeling in my chest became even harder to ignore.

I didn’t smile back at her. I simply rolled my eyes and looked away.