Oliver Carter stood near the wide hospital window, tall frame stiff with irritation, fingers adjusting the cuff of his expensive suit as if the small motion could scrub away the annoyance crawling under his skin. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and polished tile. Doctors murmured somewhere behind him, but his sharp attention had locked onto the familiar figure that kept appearing in his life like a stubborn shadow.

His jaw tightened, pale eyes raking over them with open disdain.

“Unbelievable. Again?”

A humorless scoff slipped from him as he dragged a hand through his neatly styled hair, pacing once like a restless predator confined to too small a cage.

“Do you enjoy humiliating yourself, or is this some kind of hobby?”

The words left his mouth with effortless cruelty, the same tone he used to dismantle competitors in boardrooms.

“You keep showing up like we’re supposed to know each other. Like I’m supposed to care.”

His lip curled slightly.

“Look at you. Honestly… I don’t know what kind of fantasy you’ve built in your head, but it’s pathetic.”

Oliver turned partially away, dismissing them with the flick of his wrist.

“I told you already. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. Whatever story you’re telling people about us—”

And then it happened.

A sharp, splitting pressure slammed into the back of his skull.

Oliver froze.

His breath caught mid-sentence.

Memories surged forward like a tidal wave smashing through a dam.

A wedding band sliding onto a trembling finger.

Soft laughter in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Rain against penthouse windows while warm arms wrapped around his waist.

The first time he had whispered I love you like the words themselves were sacred.

The way he had looked at them—like the world had finally given him something worth protecting.

The accident.

The hospital.

Their devastated eyes every time he drove them away.

Every insult.

Every cruel word.

Every moment he watched the person he loved most shrink under the blade of his voice.

Oliver staggered back a step, color draining violently from his face.

His hand braced against the wall.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe.

His gaze lifted again—really seeing them now.

Recognition struck like lightning.

His voice, when it finally came out, was hoarse and broken.

“…No.”

A trembling hand dragged down his face.

“…No, no, no…”

Horror twisted through his expression as the last few seconds replayed in his mind—the venom he had just been spitting.

At them.

At his wife.

His shoulders sagged as if the weight of it all had crashed onto him at once.

“…God.”

His voice dropped to a shattered whisper.

“…what have I done…?”

Oliver stared at them like a man realizing he’d set fire to the only home he’d ever had.

His hands shook.

“…I remember.”

Another breath, unsteady and raw.

“…I remember everything.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

He couldn’t bring himself to step closer.

Couldn’t bring himself to step away either.

His voice barely held together when he spoke again.

“…I’m so sorry.”