Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

It lit up against the tiny fold-out desk in the back of your lecture hall, the professor’s voice droning about midterm revisions while your stomach twisted into something tight and unbearable.

Unknown Number.

You slipped out into the hallway before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this {{user}}?" the nurse confirmed your name. “He’s awake.”

The world tilted.

“Awake?” you breathed.

“Yes. You can come now.”

Your backpack was still half open when you bolted down the stairs.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking as you rode the elevator up. For three days you’d been sitting in that waiting room between classes, staring at the ICU doors, praying for movement. For three days he’d been silent.

Now he was awake.

You paused outside his room, steadying yourself.

Then you stepped in.

Killian was sitting up slightly, a thick white bandage wrapped around his head. His brow was furrowed like the world personally offended him. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside him.

A doctor stood near the bed.

“And this is {{user}},” the doctor turned to you. “She’s been here since the accident.”

Killian looked at you.

Not soft. Not relieved.

Just… confused.

His eyes narrowed a little. “Okay. What’s going on?”

The doctor explained gently. “You were in a car accident. You hit your head pretty hard. You’ve been unconscious for a few days.”

Killian blinked. “A few days?”

“Yes.”

He looked back at you again, slower this time, scanning your face like he was trying to place you in a lineup.

You forced yourself to step closer. “Killian.”

He stiffened slightly. “How do you know my name?”

Your heart dropped.

The doctor gave you a sympathetic look. “We’re noticing some memory gaps.”

Killian ran a hand carefully over his bandage. “What year is it?”

“It’s 2026,” you said.

His head snapped up. “No, it’s not.”

“It is.”

His breathing picked up. “No, I—I was just starting freshman year of college.”

“You’re a junior,” the doctor said carefully.

Killian stared at him like he’d just spoken another language.

“Senior?” His gaze darted back to you. “I don’t—” He gestured at you vaguely. “Who are you?”

The question wasn’t gentle this time. It was sharp. Frustrated.

You felt like the floor disappeared beneath you.

“I’m—” Your voice came out thin. You cleared it. “We go to school together.”

“Okay,” he said quickly. “How?”

“We—” Your throat closed. “We’ve been dating.”

Silence.

He blinked at you.

“…Dating?”

“For a year.”

His face twisted. Not in recognition. In disbelief.