Chapter 151: Do You Want To Go Back?

She checked the IV line once more before stepping back.

Camila leaned into the car. "Are you comfortable?"

I nodded. "Yes."

She adjusted my head and made sure the seatbelt wasn’t pressing against my injuries.

"Better?"

"Much better."

She gave me a small nod. "I’ll be right in front."

She closed the back door.

For a moment, I was alone. The sound of the outside world became muffled through the glass.

I opened my eyes and looked around the car.

Everything was quiet. The faint smell of leather filled the interior.

I rested my head against the seat.

I should have felt relieved; instead, my chest felt heavier.

Camila walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and slid into the seat.

She looked at me through the rearview mirror, and our eyes met.

She didn’t say anything and started the engine.

The low hum filled the car. For a few seconds, she remained parked, then she slowly pulled away.

I watched the hospital through the window.

The building was still visible behind us.

I could see the entrance, the glass doors, and people moving in and out.

I kept staring.

Maybe some part of me was waiting for Sylvia.

Maybe I wanted to see her one last time.

Or maybe I was hoping she wouldn’t come back before we left.

I didn’t know.

Camila turned onto the road. The hospital began moving farther away.

I slowly rested my head against the window.

The glass was cool against my skin.

I closed my eyes.

"Forgive me, Sylvia," I muttered under my breath. The words barely left my lips.

I opened my eyes again. For some reason, I looked back toward the hospital.

The building was getting smaller.

I could still see it.

Then...

A car suddenly turned into the hospital compound.

My eyes followed it. Something about the way it moved made my heart skip.

It stopped near the entrance, and the driver’s door opened.

Sylvia stepped out.

My breath caught immediately I saw her.

She was holding a bag in one hand. She closed the car door quickly and immediately started walking toward the hospital.

"Sylvia..." Her name escaped my lips.

Camila looked at me through the mirror.

Sylvia hurried through the hospital entrance, her attention completely fixed on the building ahead.

I turned my head toward the rear window, watching until she disappeared behind the glass doors.

My eyes burned and I blinked quickly.

"Do you want to go back?" Camila asked slowly.

I shook my head without saying anything.

The car continued moving.

I turned and looked at the hospital one last time as it slowly disappeared behind us.

My fingers curled against the blanket.

I lowered my gaze.

Camila continued driving without saying anything.

I leaned back against the seat and stared ahead through the space between the front seats.

The road stretched endlessly before us. I didn’t know where this decision would take me.

I didn’t know how long I would be gone.

I didn’t know what would happen when Sylvia finally discovered that I had left without telling her.

But I knew one thing.

She would be hurt or maybe hate me her whole life, and I would have to live with that.

I closed my eyes again and swallowed the ache in my throat.

I slowly whispered the words she would never hear.

"I’m sorry, Sylvia."

The car continued down the road, and behind us, the hospital disappeared completely from sight.

I kept my eyes closed, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Sylvia.

Even after the hospital had disappeared from sight, I could still picture her stepping out of her car with the bag in her hand. I could imagine her walking into my room, expecting to find me there, only to discover that the bed was empty.

Would she call my name?

Would she ask the nurses where I had gone?

Would she think I had abandoned her?

My fingers tightened around the blanket covering my legs.

I had tried to prepare myself for this moment. I had told myself that leaving was necessary, that I was doing it for her sake, and that staying would only make things harder for both of us.

But now that I had actually left, none of those reasons made the pain any easier.

I felt as if I had left a part of myself behind in that hospital room.

"Amelia?"

I opened my eyes and looked toward the front seat. Camila was watching me through the rearview mirror.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, although the movement made the pain in my body more noticeable. "Yes."

She studied my face for a moment before returning her attention to the road. "You don’t have to pretend with me."

I looked down at my hands. "I’m not pretending."

"Then look at me and tell me you’re not thinking about Sylvia."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Camila let out a quiet sigh. "That’s what I thought."

I turned toward the window. Buildings and roadside shops passed by, their colors blurring whenever the car moved faster. People walked along the pavements, some carrying bags while others stood beside the road waiting for transport. Everything looked ordinary, and that somehow made me feel worse.

The world hadn’t stopped just because I had left someone I loved behind.

"Do you think she’ll be angry?" I asked after a while.

Camila glanced at me through the mirror. "Sylvia?"

I nodded.

"She’ll probably be worried first."

My throat tightened. "And after that?"

"Amelia, I don’t know."

I looked down again.

Camila was right. Neither of us knew how Sylvia would react. We didn’t even know what she would be told when she discovered that I had been transferred.

I rubbed my thumb against the edge of the blanket.

"She’ll think I left because I don’t want her anymore."

"Then she’ll be wrong."

"But I won’t be there to explain it to her."

Camila was quiet for a moment.

"You asked me to help you leave without telling her. I agreed because I could see how frightened you were, and I didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for. But I can’t promise that this won’t hurt her."

I swallowed hard.

"I know."

"And you can’t keep blaming yourself for every possible thing she might think."

I gave a small, bitter laugh. "It’s easy for you to say."

"I know it is."

Her answer made me look up.

Camila didn’t try to tell me that everything would be fine. She didn’t promise that Sylvia would understand or that the pain would disappear once I was far enough away.

She simply continued driving, allowing me to sit with the consequences of my decision.

For some reason, that honesty hurt less than empty reassurance would have.

I leaned my head against the window again.

The cool glass rested against my cheek, and I watched the road until my eyes began to feel heavy. My body was exhausted, but sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sylvia’s face.

I remembered how she had looked at me when I asked whether she was really my girlfriend.

I remembered the sadness in her eyes when I admitted that I couldn’t remember loving her.

And I remembered how she had held my hand and promised to introduce herself to me again, even if she had to do it every day.

My lips trembled.

Why had she made it so difficult for me to leave?

If she had been angry with me, perhaps this would have been easier. If she had told me that she was tired of waiting for my memories to return, perhaps I could have convinced myself that leaving was the right thing to do.

But she hadn’t done any of those things.

She had stayed.

She had been patient with me even when I couldn’t remember the simplest things about our relationship.

She had looked at me as though I were still the same person she had loved before the accident.

And I had repaid her by disappearing.

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back another wave of tears.

"Camila?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

I hesitated, staring at the passing scenery. "Do you think I’m a bad person?"

The car became quiet.

Camila didn’t answer immediately, and the silence made me nervous.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Just answer."

She released a slow breath. "No, Amelia. I don’t think you’re a bad person."

"Then why does it feel like I’m doing something terrible?"

"Because you’re hurting someone you love, even though you believe you’re doing it to protect her."

I lowered my eyes.

"That doesn’t make what you’re doing painless," Camila continued. "It only means you’re trying to make a difficult decision with the little strength you have right now."

I stared at my hands.

"But what if I’m wrong?"

"Then you’ll have to face that when you’re ready."

"What if she never forgives me?"

"I can’t answer that for her."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Camila’s voice softened. "But you don’t have to decide what the rest of your life will look like today. Right now, you need to recover. You need to give yourself time to understand what happened to you and what you want to do next."

I nodded faintly.

She was asking me to focus on myself, but I didn’t know how to do that when every thought seemed to lead back to Sylvia.

My body remembered her touch.

My heart reacted to her voice.

Even without my memories, I had felt safe beside her.

I couldn’t explain it, and that frightened me more than I wanted to admit.

If my memories never returned, would I still love her?

Would I continue feeling this strange ache whenever she wasn’t near me?

Would I always feel as though something important was missing?

I pressed a hand against my chest.

I didn’t know.

And for now, that was the only answer I had.

The car continued along the road, and after some time, Camila slowed down to avoid a pothole. The sudden movement made me wince.

She immediately looked at me through the mirror.

"Are you hurting?"

"A little."

"Where?"

"My side."

"Is it getting worse?"

"No. It just hurts when the car moves suddenly."

Camila’s expression tightened with concern. "Tell me if it becomes worse. Don’t try to endure it silently."

"I will."

She adjusted her speed and drove more carefully.

I watched her for a moment.

"Thank you."

She glanced at me. "For what?"

"For helping me."

Camila looked back at the road. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do."

I lowered my gaze. "You didn’t have to agree to any of this."

"You’re right. I didn’t."

I looked up at her, surprised by her answer.

She continued, "But you needed help, and you trusted me enough to ask. I’m not going to abandon you because your decision is difficult."

My eyes filled with tears again.

I quickly turned toward the window before she could notice.

Unfortunately, I was beginning to realize that crying had become far too easy lately.

I didn’t even need to think about anything painful for long before my eyes started burning.

Perhaps it was exhaustion.

Perhaps it was the accident.

Or perhaps my heart was simply tired of carrying things my mind couldn’t understand.

I wiped my cheek and took a shaky breath.

For now, I would try to rest.

I would follow the doctor’s instructions, take my medication, and give my body time to heal. I would try not to force my memories to return, even though the thought of living without them terrified me.

And I would stay away from Sylvia.

At least until I understood myself better.

That was the promise I had made to myself.

I just didn’t know how long I could keep it.

The journey felt longer than it probably was.

By the time we reached the hospital where Camila had arranged for me to stay, my body felt heavier, and the pain in my side had become more noticeable. I had spent most of the drive trying to remain still, but every turn had reminded me how weak I was.

Camila parked near the entrance and switched off the engine.

"We’re here," she said, turning to look at me.

I lifted my head from the window.

The building stood in front of us, its glass entrance reflecting the afternoon light. A few people were entering through the automatic doors, while a staff member stood near the reception area.

I stared at the hospital for a moment.

This was where I would stay now.

A place where nobody knew me, where I wouldn’t have to explain why I couldn’t remember the people who claimed to love me.

A place where I could recover without Sylvia sitting beside my bed, looking at me with those sad, hopeful eyes.

I should have felt relieved.

Instead, I felt frightened.

"Ready?" Camila asked.

I nodded.

She stepped out of the car and came around to my side. When she opened the door, the outside air brushed against my face.

"Take your time," she said, carefully helping me sit up.

I gripped her arm as I moved, wincing when pain pulled through my side. She immediately stopped and waited until I was ready to continue.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Stop apologizing. Just tell me when you need a break."

I nodded, feeling embarrassed by how much help I needed.

A nurse approached with a wheelchair after Camila called for assistance. They helped me out of the car and settled me into the seat, making sure the blanket remained over my legs.

The movement was uncomfortable, but I tried not to complain.

Once I was settled, Camila picked up my belongings and followed as the nurse pushed me toward the entrance.

The automatic doors opened, allowing the cool air from inside to brush against my skin.

The smell of disinfectant reached me immediately.

It was familiar now.

Too familiar.

I looked around the reception area. Patients sat in rows of chairs, some talking quietly while others stared at their phones. A little boy leaned against his mother’s shoulder, looking sleepy as she rubbed his back.

The ordinary sight made something ache inside me.

I wondered whether Sylvia was still at Brighton Memorial Hospital.

Had she found out anything?

Was she crying?

Had she called my parents?

I gripped the sides of the wheelchair.

Stop thinking about her, I told myself.

But how could I stop thinking about someone who seemed to occupy every corner of my mind, even when I couldn’t remember our time together?

The nurse pushed me toward the elevator. Camila walked beside us, occasionally checking to make sure I wasn’t uncomfortable.

When the elevator doors opened, we entered, and the nurse pressed the button for the floor where my room had been prepared.

I watched the numbers change above the door.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each passing floor seemed to carry me farther away from the life I had known.

I wondered whether this was what starting over felt like.

Not exciting.

Not hopeful.

Just frightening.

When the elevator stopped, the doors opened onto a quiet corridor. The nurse pushed me past several rooms before stopping outside one near the end.

"This is your room," she said.

Camila opened the door, allowing the nurse to wheel me inside.

The room was clean and bright. A large window stood on one side, and pale curtains hung neatly around it. There was a bed, a bedside table, a wardrobe, and a chair near the window.

It looked comfortable.

It also felt unfamiliar.

The nurse helped me transfer from the wheelchair to the bed, supporting my back as I settled against the pillows. Camila placed my belongings beside the wardrobe and thanked the nurse before she left.

Once the door closed, the room became quiet.

Camila walked over to me.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Do you need anything?"

I shook my head.

She pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. "The doctor will come to examine you shortly. Until then, don’t try to get up by yourself."

"I won’t."

"And if you feel dizzy or the pain gets worse, call the nurse."

"I will."

Camila studied me for a moment. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

I looked down at the blanket.

"No."

The admission surprised both of us.

Camila’s expression softened.

I swallowed hard. "I don’t know what I’m doing, Camila. I don’t know if leaving was the right choice. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to live with it."

She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees. "You don’t have to figure everything out right now."

"But Sylvia—"

My voice broke before I could finish.

I pressed my lips together and looked away.

Camila waited quietly.

I took a shaky breath. "What if she thinks I never loved her?"

"Then I hope she’ll eventually understand that you were frightened and confused, and that you didn’t know how to handle everything you were feeling."

"But she won’t know that unless someone tells her."

I looked at Camila.

"And I asked you not to tell her."

Camila’s face became serious.

"Yes, you did."

I lowered my eyes again.

I had made her promise not to tell Sylvia where I was going. I had begged her to help me leave before I changed my mind.

Now that I was here, I wanted to take back every word.

But I couldn’t.

I had made my decision, and Sylvia was already living with its consequences.

I covered my face with both hands.

"I miss her."

The words came out muffled.

Camila moved closer and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I know."

"I’ve only been away from her for a short time, but I already miss her."

My shoulders began to shake.

"I don’t even remember everything about our relationship. Why does it hurt so much?"

Camila didn’t pretend to have an answer.

She simply kept her hand on my shoulder while I tried to control my breathing.

I lowered my hands and wiped my cheeks.

"I don’t want to hurt her."

"I know."

"But I don’t know how to protect her when I don’t even understand what’s happening to me."

Camila squeezed my shoulder gently. "Then take this time to recover. You don’t have to make another decision today."

I nodded, although my heart remained heavy.

A soft knock came at the door, and a nurse entered to check my condition. Camila moved aside while the nurse checked my blood pressure, asked about my pain, and examined the dressing near my injuries.

I answered her questions as best I could.

When she finished, she reminded me to rest and call for help if I needed anything before leaving the room.

Camila watched until the door closed.

"You should sleep for a while," she said.

"I’m not sure I can."

"You don’t have to force yourself to sleep. Just rest."

I leaned back against the pillows.

Camila stood and adjusted the blanket around my legs before moving toward the chair again.

"Will you stay?"

The question escaped before I could stop it.

She turned to me.

"Of course."

I swallowed.

"Until I fall asleep?"

Her expression softened. "As long as you need me to."

I nodded and turned toward the window.

Outside, the sky was slowly changing color, and the last light of the afternoon rested against the glass. I watched it quietly, trying to settle the ache in my chest.

I wanted to believe that distance would make things easier.

I wanted to believe that, with enough time, I would understand what had happened to me and why my memories had disappeared.

But most of all, I wanted to remember Sylvia.

Not because everyone told me she was my girlfriend.

Not because she kept telling me that she loved me.

I wanted to remember her because some part of me already seemed to know how important she was.

And I was terrified that if I stayed away from her for too long, I might lose the only person my heart seemed to recognize.

I closed my eyes, allowing the exhaustion to pull me toward sleep.

Just before I drifted off, one thought crossed my mind.

Please don’t hate me, Sylvia.

I couldn’t remember all the reasons I had fallen in love with her.

But as I lay in that unfamiliar room, with Camila sitting quietly beside me, I knew that leaving her behind had not made me love her any less.