Chapter 150: Leave Me And Live Your Life...

I stared blankly at the ceiling.

The white surface above me looked almost too clean under the dim light of the room. A faint shadow from the window stretched across it, changing slowly as the afternoon light faded outside. I watched it without really seeing it, my thoughts too occupied with the decision I had made.

I still didn’t know if I was doing the right thing.

Even after everything I had decided, there was a part of me that wanted to stop Camila, tell her to forget everything, and simply wait for Sylvia to come back. I wanted to see her walk through the door, carrying that familiar bag, with her black hair falling around her shoulders and her eyes searching for me.

I wanted to hear her call me Minnie.

I wanted to reach for her hand without having to think about it.

But another part of me kept reminding me why I had made this decision.

I needed to leave. I needed time away from everything. I needed to understand what was happening to me before I could face Sylvia again.

My fingers slowly tightened around the blanket.

I hated the thought of leaving without saying goodbye, but saying goodbye would make it harder. If Sylvia stood in front of me and asked me not to leave, I already knew what would happen.

I would stay.

That was the problem.

I didn’t trust myself to walk away if she asked me to remain beside her. I didn’t trust myself to be strong enough to watch her cry and still follow through with my decision. Even now, when she wasn’t in the room, I could barely keep myself from asking Camila to take me back.

What would happen if I saw her face?

What if she held my hand and told me she wasn’t going anywhere?

Would I still remember all the reasons I had convinced myself that leaving was necessary?

I slowly closed my eyes.

The sunlight had almost disappeared. The warm glow that had filled the room earlier was gone, leaving only a faint gray light coming through the window. The hospital room felt colder than before, and I pulled the blanket closer to my chest.

I listened to the quiet beeping of the monitor beside me.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The sound was steady, almost calming.

I took a slow breath and tried to settle my thoughts. My body was still weak from the accident, and the ache in my side had not completely disappeared. Even turning my head sometimes reminded me that I was not as healthy as I wanted to believe.

Yet here I was, preparing to leave one hospital for another because I was frightened of facing the person I loved.

A small, bitter laugh escaped my lips.

If someone had told me that I would one day run away from my own girlfriend because I couldn’t remember loving her, I probably would have laughed in their face.

But there was nothing funny about it now.

I opened my eyes and turned my head toward the empty chair beside my bed.

Sylvia had sat there for hours.

She had held my hand when I was frightened. She had stayed beside me when I couldn’t understand what was happening to my mind. Even when I looked at her and told her I didn’t remember her, she hadn’t turned away.

She had promised to introduce herself to me again and again if that was what it took.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Why couldn’t she have been angry with me?

Why couldn’t she have given me a reason to push her away?

Instead, she had been kind. Patient. Gentle.

And somehow, that made everything harder.

I pressed my lips together and looked back at the ceiling.

I didn’t want her to spend her days waiting for someone who might never remember her. I didn’t want her to keep looking at me with hope while I struggled to understand the relationship everyone insisted we had shared.

What if my memories never returned?

What if I recovered physically but remained a stranger to her?

Would she keep waiting?

Would she continue trying to make me fall in love with her all over again?

The thought made my chest ache.

I didn’t want to become the reason she stopped living her own life.

But I also couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

I was trapped between two fears, and neither one seemed willing to let me go.

I slowly closed my eyes again.

The room became quiet around me, and for a while, I listened only to the monitor and my own breathing. I tried to imagine what life would be like after I left the hospital. Perhaps, with enough time, I would begin to understand my condition. Perhaps my memories would return when I stopped forcing them to.

Perhaps I would eventually be able to look at Sylvia and recognize the woman she had been to me before the accident.

I wanted that more than anything.

But I couldn’t keep making promises to myself when I had no idea what the future held.

A few minutes passed before I heard the door open.

Footsteps entered the room.

I didn’t open my eyes immediately. I recognized the sound of the wheels rolling across the floor, followed by the faint rustle of medical clothing.

When I finally opened my eyes, Camila was walking toward me.

Two nurses followed behind her, and the doctor who had attended to me earlier came in with them. Another nurse pushed a stretcher into the room.

My stomach tightened.

It was happening.

Camila stopped beside my bed and looked down at me. "Time to go, Lia," she said quietly.

I stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

I tried to sit up by myself, but my body immediately reminded me that I was still recovering. A sharp ache moved through my side, and I sucked in a breath before stopping.

The doctor noticed and quickly stepped forward. "Don’t force yourself."

He placed one hand behind my shoulder and helped me sit up carefully. I leaned forward slightly, waiting for the pain to settle.

The room felt unsteady for a few seconds.

I slowly closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Take it slowly," the doctor advised.

"I’m fine," I whispered, even though the discomfort on my face must have told him otherwise.

He gave me a look that made it clear he didn’t believe me. "You don’t have to prove anything right now."

I didn’t argue.

The nurses moved closer and began disconnecting the wires attached to me. One carefully removed the monitoring leads from my chest while another checked the IV line in my hand. The small adhesive patches pulled against my skin as they were removed, and I watched them silently.

With every wire they disconnected, I felt more like I was actually leaving.

The monitor was switched off, and the steady beeping stopped.

The sudden silence felt strange.

For days, that sound had been part of the background of my life. I had grown used to hearing it whenever I opened my eyes, whenever I turned in bed, and whenever I lay awake thinking about the things I couldn’t remember.

Now it was gone.

The doctor checked my condition before reaching for a syringe. "This is a pain reliever," he explained. "It should help with the pain during the journey."

I nodded.

He cleaned a small area on my arm and administered the injection. I felt the quick sting before the discomfort began to fade. He disposed of the syringe and reminded me not to move around unnecessarily.

"Okay," I replied quietly.

Camila stepped closer, her expression carrying a little concern. "Doctor, are you sure nothing will happen to her before we reach where we’re going?"

The doctor looked at her immediately. "No. She is stable enough to be transferred."

Camila nodded, although she still looked worried.

"However," the doctor continued, "she needs her next dose within two hours. Make sure you don’t delay once you arrive."

"All right. I’ll make sure of it," Camila assured him.

The doctor turned back to me. "Do you feel dizzy?"

"A little."

"Any severe pain?"

"No."

"Good. If anything changes during the journey, don’t ignore it. Tell Camila immediately."

I nodded.

The nurses helped me lie back on the stretcher. The mattress was firmer than the hospital bed, and I could feel the movement beneath me as they adjusted the blanket over my body. One nurse checked the IV again, while another adjusted the pillow beneath my head.

"Is that comfortable?" she asked.

"Yes."

They began pushing me toward the door.

I turned my face away from the room. I didn’t want to look back. If I looked at the bed, the chair, or the small table beside it, I knew my resolve would weaken.

This room had become the place where I had learned that losing my memories could be just as frightening as remembering something painful. It was also where Sylvia had stayed beside me, trying to make me feel safe when everything around me seemed unfamiliar.

I didn’t want to leave those moments behind.

But I couldn’t stay, either.

Camila walked beside me, and her hand found mine. I felt her fingers close gently around my hand, offering comfort without demanding that I speak.

I looked at her, but she didn’t say anything.

Maybe she understood that I didn’t need words.

The nurses pushed the stretcher into the corridor. The wheels made a soft rolling sound against the polished floor, and I watched the ceiling pass above me.

The hospital was quieter than it had been earlier. A few nurses moved between rooms, carrying files and small trays. A doctor stood near the nurses’ station, speaking quietly to another doctor. Somewhere farther down the corridor, a telephone rang before someone answered it.

I kept my eyes closed.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.

Most importantly, I didn’t want to see Sylvia.

Not yet.

My hand remained in Camila’s. The warmth of her palm was the only thing keeping me grounded as we continued toward the exit.

I swallowed hard.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how Sylvia would feel when she returned.

She would probably walk into the room with that small smile she always gave me. She might place the bag on the chair, come toward my bed, and start telling me about something that had happened while she was away.

Then she would realize I wasn’t there.

My chest tightened, and I pressed my lips together.

Would she think I had been taken somewhere for another examination? Would she search the bathroom before asking a nurse? Would she call my name, expecting me to answer?

I could picture her standing beside the empty bed, looking around with confusion spreading across her face.

The image hurt so much that I had to turn my face away.

I knew she would be hurt.

Maybe she would be angry.

Maybe she would hate me.

The thought hurt more than I expected.

I opened my eyes slightly and looked at the ceiling passing above me. "I’m sorry, Sylvia," I whispered so quietly that only Camila seemed to notice.

Her fingers tightened around mine, but I didn’t look at her.

I continued staring upward, trying to hold on to the decision I had made.

Leave your life without me, Sylvia. I will continue to love you while I’m still alive.

The thought felt cruel, but I didn’t know what else to think.

My throat tightened. I turned my face toward the other side and closed my eyes again as the stretcher moved through the corridor.

We passed the reception area, where the smell of disinfectant was stronger, mixed with the faint smell of food coming from the hospital cafeteria. I could hear people speaking quietly and the occasional sound of footsteps approaching before fading away.

The automatic exit doors came into view.

As we approached, they opened with a soft mechanical sound, and cool evening air brushed across my face.

I took a slow breath.

The outside air felt different. It was cooler and less heavy than the air inside the hospital, but instead of feeling relieved, I felt a strange sadness settle over me.

This was the first time I was leaving the hospital since waking up.

And I was leaving without Sylvia.

The nurses pushed the stretcher outside. Camila pointed toward a dark-colored car parked a short distance away. "This way."

They pushed me toward it while I kept my eyes closed.

I could hear passing cars from the road beyond the hospital compound. A motorcycle went past, its engine fading into the distance, while a car horn sounded somewhere nearby.

Camila pressed the button on her key fob.

Beep.

Beep.

The headlights flashed.

She walked toward the car and opened the back door. "Careful," she told the nurses as they positioned the stretcher beside the open door.

One nurse helped me sit up. The movement sent a sharp pain through my body, and I winced before I could stop myself.

"Sorry," the nurse said gently. "Take it slowly."

I nodded, placing one hand against the seat and allowing them to support me. My legs felt weak beneath me, and I hated how helpless I had become.

I had always imagined myself as someone who could handle difficult situations without needing anyone’s help.

Now I couldn’t even get into a car without someone supporting my weight.

I swallowed my frustration and concentrated on moving carefully. The nurses helped me lower myself onto the back seat, supporting my shoulder and making sure I didn’t twist my body too much.

Another wave of pain moved through my side, and I closed my eyes until it passed.

The nurse adjusted the blanket around me before checking that I was sitting comfortably.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered quietly.