Chapter 156: I Don’t Think You Want To Forget Her...

"If she returns here, the hospital will deal with the situation according to its procedures. We cannot force that to happen by waiting in the corridor."

Sylvia looked away.

She knew he was right, but the thought of leaving the hospital made her uncomfortable. As long as she remained there, she could pretend she was still close to Amelia. She could imagine that Amelia was only a few floors away, resting in a room Sylvia had not yet found.

Going home would mean accepting that she could not reach her.

It would mean sitting in a familiar house with nothing but silence to remind her that something important was missing.

"I don’t want to leave yet," she admitted.

Stella rubbed her thumb over Sylvia’s knuckles. "You don’t have to decide this second. But you have been here for hours, and you’re exhausted. We can go home, rest, and decide what to do next when we have clearer heads."

Sylvia stared at the floor.

She had promised Amelia that she would stay by her side, but Amelia had not asked her to wait outside the hospital indefinitely. She had not asked Sylvia to abandon her own needs or spend every waking hour searching for her.

Still, the promise felt unfinished.

"I just wish she had told me something," Sylvia whispered. "Even if she wanted me to leave her alone, she could have said so."

Stella’s expression grew sad. "Perhaps she didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling."

"Then she could have tried."

The words came out with more pain than anger.

Sylvia pressed her lips together.

She did not want to blame Amelia. She knew the accident had changed things. Amelia was dealing with gaps in her memory, unfamiliar emotions, and a life she could not properly recall. Sylvia understood that those things could make a person feel trapped.

But understanding did not make the situation painless.

She had been trying so hard to make Amelia feel safe that she had barely allowed herself to admit how frightened she was too.

She was frightened that Amelia would never remember her.

Frightened that the woman she loved would build a new life without her.

And frightened that even if Amelia’s memories returned, the experience of being cared for by a stranger might have changed how she felt about their relationship.

Sylvia could not bear to think about that last possibility for too long.

"Let’s go," she said at last.

Mr. Winston nodded, and Stella gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

They walked toward the hospital entrance together. The afternoon light had begun to fade, leaving the sky outside a dull shade of grey. Cars moved through the hospital compound, and people crossed the entrance with bags, documents, and tired expressions.

Sylvia paused just before the automatic doors opened.

She looked back at the corridor behind her before she turned and stepped outside.

The air was cooler than she expected. A faint breeze brushed against her cheeks, and she drew her jacket closer around herself as she followed her parents toward the car.

Once inside, Sylvia settled into the back seat. Stella sat beside her, while Mr. Winston took the driver’s seat. The engine started with a low rumble, and the car rolled slowly out of the parking space.

Sylvia watched the hospital recede through the window.

She had entered the building believing that if she asked the right questions, someone would help her find Amelia, but she was leaving with no new information about her whereabouts, no certainty that she would hear from her, and no way to know whether Amelia wanted to see her again.

Her phone rested in her palm.

She opened Camila’s contact and stared at the last message she had sent.

Sylvia: Camila, please call me when you see this. I need to know if everything is okay.

There was no reply.

Sylvia considered sending another message, but she stopped herself. If Camila was unable to answer, another message would not change that. If she was choosing not to answer, repeated calls would not make her willing to speak.

Sylvia locked the screen.

She would wait.

Not because waiting was easy, but because she had reached the limit of what she could do without crossing a boundary Amelia might have deliberately set.

The car turned onto the road. Streetlights flickered on one after another, their pale reflections sliding across the windows as traffic moved around them.

Stella glanced at her daughter. "Do you want to talk?"

Sylvia shook her head. "Not right now."

"All right."

Stella did not push. She reached over and placed a hand on Sylvia’s knee, leaving it there quietly.

Sylvia leaned her head against the window. The glass was cool against her temple, and the steady movement of the car made the lights outside blur whenever she blinked.

She remembered Amelia’s voice from the hospital room.

I don’t want you to leave again.

The memory came so clearly that Sylvia almost turned toward the empty space beside her.

Amelia had said those words while holding her hand. She had looked embarrassed afterward, as though she had revealed something she did not fully understand. Sylvia had promised she would stay, and Amelia had believed her.

Had that moment meant something to Amelia, or had it only been the fear of waking up in an unfamiliar place?

Sylvia could not know.

Maybe Amelia had felt safe with her without understanding why.

Maybe she had wanted Sylvia nearby because she was the only person who had been consistently present during her recovery.

Maybe the affection she had shown was the beginning of something returning.

Or even maybe Sylvia had mistaken a frightened woman’s need for comfort for a sign that their relationship might survive the accident unchanged.

She closed her eyes.

She did not want to turn every memory into a question.

For now, she needed to accept that she did not have the answers.

When they arrived home, Sylvia stepped out of the car and followed her parents inside. The house was quiet, with only the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the clock in the living room filling the space.

She stopped near the entrance.

This was where Sylvia could still picture Amelia without trying.

The memories made the house feel painfully empty.

Stella touched her shoulder. "Would you like to eat anything?"

"I’m not hungry."

"Would you at least have some tea?"

Sylvia hesitated before nodding. "All right."

"Mrs. Chloe, please make something for Sylvia." Stella said loudly.

Mrs. Chloe stepped out and gave a small nod before walking back to the kitchen.

Mr. Winston watched her for a moment, then gestured toward the sofa.

"Sit down, Sylvia."

She obeyed and sat beside him. She placed her phone on the coffee table and stared at it, waiting for it to light up.

Mr. Winston sat in the armchair opposite her, while Stella spoke beside him.

"I know you love your sister," he said. "No one is questioning that."

Sylvia looked up.

"But loving her doesn’t mean you can solve everything for her. She has to be allowed to make her own decisions, even when those decisions hurt the people who care about her."

Sylvia swallowed. "I know."

"Do you?"

She looked down again.

"I know I can’t force her to stay with me. I know I can’t make her remember." Her fingers curled against her palm. "But I don’t know how to stop worrying about her."

Mr. Winston’s expression softened. "You don’t have to stop worrying. You just have to learn how to live without knowing everything."

Sylvia gave a small, bitter smile. "That sounds easier than it is."

"I know it does." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You have been thinking about Amelia’s needs since the accident. You’ve been trying to make sure she’s comfortable, trying to give her time, and trying not to make her feel pressured. But you also need to remember that you are allowed to feel hurt."

Sylvia’s eyes stung again.

She had been so focused on being patient that she had begun to feel guilty whenever she experienced anything other than understanding.

She felt guilty for wanting Amelia to remember her.

Guilty for feeling hurt when Amelia looked at her without recognition.

Guilty for hoping that their love would somehow survive the damage the accident had caused.

And now she felt guilty for being upset that Amelia had left.

"Sometimes I wish I could forget everything too," she admitted quietly. "Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much."

Mr. Winston remained silent for a moment.

"Perhaps," he said. "But I don’t think you truly want to forget her."

Sylvia shook her head. "No."

The answer came immediately.

She did not want to forget Amelia. She wanted the memories to remain, even the painful ones. She wanted to remember their first meeting, their arguments, their laughter, and all the ordinary days that had slowly become important.

She wanted to remember because those moments were proof that their relationship had existed, even if Amelia could no longer reach them.

Mrs. Chloe returned with a cup of tea and placed it on the coffee table. The warm scent rose gently into the air, but Sylvia did not reach for it immediately.

Her phone remained silent. She picked it up once more, opened Amelia’s contact, and stared at the photograph.

Then, instead of calling, she opened a new message.

Sylvia: I’m worried about you, Minnie. I won’t keep calling, and I won’t try to force you to talk to me. I just hope you’re safe. If you need me, I’m here.

She read the message twice.

Her thumb hovered over the send button, then she pressed it.

The message appeared beneath their previous conversation, marked as sent.

Sylvia placed the phone on the table and wrapped both hands around the cup of tea. The warmth seeped into her fingers, easing some of the cold she had carried home from the hospital.

She took a small sip.

It was still too hot, and the taste of the tea was stronger than she preferred. She swallowed carefully, then held the cup between her palms.

She had done what she could for today.

Sylvia leaned into the sofa, letting the cushions support her tired body.

She glanced at her phone one last time before turning the screen facedown.

She would not call again tonight.

If Amelia wanted to contact her, the message would be there.

If she needed time, Sylvia would try to give it to her.

And if she never returned, Sylvia would eventually have to learn how to accept that too.

The thought frightened her, but she no longer tried to force it away anymore.

She could not choose Amelia’s feelings for her. She could not decide when her memories would return, and she could not demand a place in a life Amelia was struggling to understand.

All Sylvia could do was love her without turning that love into a reason to hold her captive.

She rested her head against the sofa and closed her eyes.

Sylvia did not know whether their paths would meet again tomorrow, next week, or much later.

But she hoped that when Amelia finally looked back at the life she had lost, she would not remember Sylvia as someone who had tried to force her to stay.

She hoped Amelia would remember that she had been loved.

Even when she could no longer remember the person who loved her.