"I’m Vienna Cruz. We’re friends. Remember?"

I drew a complete blank. Still, I couldn't bring myself to slam the door in her face.

"Serenity, I know you’ve forgotten a lot of things, but I have to be clear with you: Desmond and I are getting married."

She pointed to her lower belly. "There’s a baby in here. Desmond’s baby."

What was she babbling about?

I stood there, dazed. "Desmond is my husband."

Vienna let out a sharp, jagged laugh that ended in tears. "Desmond is your brother! You’re nothing but his little sister!"

"Serenity, are you actually losing your mind?"

The familiar, shrill screeching returned, drilling into my ears, one wave sharper than the last. I winced in pain, the phantom echoes of her voice clawing at me: *You’re just his sister!*

"Serenity! Don't push your luck!"

"Why have you turned into this? You were the one who wanted the divorce! What, having second thoughts now?"

...

When I finally came to, I was back in the hospital.

Dr. Duncan frowned, his brow furrowed in concern. "She can't handle any more stress."

"My mentor is back from abroad," he added, turning to Desmond. "It’s best if she remains hospitalized for now."

Desmond’s eyes flickered with a desperate spark of hope the moment he heard the mention of a neurology specialist.

He began running a grueling relay between his office and the hospital every day.

In truth, Dr. Duncan was incredibly attentive. During his rounds, he’d always linger a little longer, his voice low and soothing. Even the nurses joked that he was giving me "special treatment."

Desmond saw it all. He didn't say a word, but he started showing up even earlier and staying until the dead of night.

It felt like he was desperate to prove that there were things Dr. Duncan’s medical expertise—and his bedside manner—could never replace.

Like knowing I had to have exactly half a glass of warm water before bed.

Or the way he personally switched out my pillows for ones with the exact firmness I preferred.

And then, there was today. He handed me a small box, carefully wrapped in soft, velvet cloth.

"I pulled strings and scoured everywhere for this," he said, his voice flat. "The King Seiko parts you wanted. Original factory stock."

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why did you suddenly need these, anyway?"

I took the box with trembling fingers, tucking it immediately under my pillow.

"Dr. Duncan has a King Seiko with a broken movement. I heard it was a gift from someone very important to him, but the parts are discontinued." I looked up at him, beaming. "Thank you, Desmond! I knew you were the only one who could find them!"

Desmond remained frozen in the position he’d been in when he handed me the box. His knuckles were white, the skin pulled tight over his straining joints. It took an agonizingly long time before he slowly retracted his hand and shoved it deep into the pocket of his overcoat.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, clearly trying to manage a smile, but nothing came of it. He just stood there, completely silent.