Chapter Four: The Woman He Couldn't Remember
815 Words
The hospital corridors were unusually quiet that morning.
Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the tall windows, but they did little to warm the icy knot in Isabella's chest. She sat outside Lorenzo's room, a cup of coffee growing cold in her hands.
She hadn't slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard him asking the same heartbreaking question.
"Who are you?"
The words replayed in her mind like a cruel melody.
She took a deep breath before standing. No matter how much it hurt, she refused to give up.
She gently knocked on Lorenzo's door.
"Come in."
His deep voice was calm, almost emotionless.
Isabella stepped inside, carrying a small paper bag.
"I brought you breakfast."
Lorenzo looked up from the newspaper in his hands.
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
She placed the bag on the bedside table and carefully unpacked it.
"Your favorite cappuccino and butter croissants."
Lorenzo frowned.
"My favorite?"
She froze for a second before forcing a smile.
"They used to be."
He stared at the food without touching it.
"You seem to know a lot about me."
A lump formed in her throat.
"I should."
Before she could say anything else, the door swung open.
Marco entered with several bodyguards.
"Boss, we need to discuss business."
Lorenzo nodded.
"You should leave."
The words were polite.
But they still hurt.
Isabella quietly picked up her purse.
"I'll come back later."
She walked past Marco, who gave her an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She only smiled sadly before leaving.
---
Inside the room, Marco closed the door.
"Boss... about Isabella."
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.
"What about her?"
"She really is your wife."
"I've heard that enough already."
"You loved her."
Lorenzo leaned back against the pillows.
"If I loved her, why can't I remember her?"
Marco had no answer.
The silence said everything.
---
Meanwhile...
Two floors below, another visitor stepped out of the elevator.
She wore a fitted red dress, expensive heels, and a confident smile.
Her name was Bianca Morelli.
She had once dreamed of becoming Mrs. Lorenzo De Luca.
Until Isabella came into the picture.
Bianca adjusted her sunglasses before walking toward the reception desk.
"I'm here to visit Lorenzo."
The receptionist checked the visitor list.
"You may go in."
Bianca smiled to herself.
Perfect.
---
A few minutes later, she entered Lorenzo's room without knocking.
"Lorenzo."
He looked up.
For a brief moment, surprise crossed his face.
"Bianca."
She smiled warmly.
"So you do remember me."
"Of course."
She walked closer and gently hugged him.
"I'm so relieved you're alive."
Lorenzo returned the hug politely.
From the hallway, Isabella arrived just in time to witness the embrace.
She stopped walking.
Her heart sank.
The bouquet of flowers in her hands slipped slightly.
Bianca noticed her first.
A victorious smile flashed across her lips before disappearing.
"Oh..."
She turned toward Lorenzo.
"Is someone there?"
Lorenzo followed her gaze.
"It's... Isabella."
Bianca pretended to look confused.
"The woman everyone says is your wife?"
Lorenzo nodded.
Bianca sighed dramatically.
"What a tragic situation."
She walked toward Isabella.
"I'm sorry."
Her words sounded kind.
But her eyes held satisfaction.
"I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you."
Isabella forced a smile.
"Thank you."
Bianca leaned closer.
"If I were you..."
She lowered her voice.
"I wouldn't force a man to love someone he doesn't remember."
Isabella's fingers tightened around the flowers.
Before she could respond, Bianca walked away as though nothing had happened.
Lorenzo watched the exchange silently.
Something about Bianca's words bothered him.
He couldn't explain why.
---
That evening, the doctor returned with new test results.
"The swelling in Mr. De Luca's brain is decreasing."
Everyone sighed with relief.
"But..."
Isabella's heart raced.
"There is something unusual."
"What is it?" Marco asked.
"We believe certain memories aren't gone..."
"They're blocked."
Lorenzo frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your brain may be protecting itself from the trauma."
"So my memories could return?"
The doctor nodded.
"Yes."
"There is a very real possibility."
Hope flickered inside Isabella for the first time in days.
But before she could smile, the doctor added another warning.
"Unfortunately, emotional stress or another injury could make the memory loss permanent."
The room fell silent.
Outside the hospital room, hidden around the corner, Bianca listened to every word.
A slow smile spread across her face.
"So... his memories can come back."
Her eyes darkened.
"I can't allow that."
She quietly slipped away before anyone noticed she had been listening.
As Isabella looked through the glass at the husband who no longer knew her, she silently prayed for a miracle.
She didn't know someone else had just declared war on her marriage.
And this time, the battle wouldn't be fought with bullets.
It would be fought with lies, manipulation... and secrets powerful enough to destroy everything she still hoped to save.
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