Memories of the past

Suzanne Smith, no, Mrs. Langford, had once had it all. Wealth, status, a future laid out for her like a red carpet leading straight to an empire. Three years ago, she had walked away from all of it, convinced that love was worth more than power.

She had been so sure. So certain that she didn’t need her father’s fortune, not as long as she had Charles. He was supposed to be her prince charming, the man who would love her, protect her, and prove her father wrong. She had imagined a beautiful life by his side, filled with laughter and stolen kisses, a home that felt safe in ways her cold, gilded upbringing never had.

But fairytales were just that. Stories. And hers had unraveled into a nightmare.

The man she once adored had become a stranger. Then a monster. Behind closed doors, Charles mocked her, belittled her, crushed her under the weight of his disdain. His words cut deeper than knives, sharp-edged insults that carved away at her self-worth until there was barely anything left of the girl she used to be.

And society? They had been just as cruel.

Once, she had been the darling of high society, the woman who turned heads with her beauty and elegance. Now, she was a whispered scandal, a tragic figure in a story everyone thought they understood.

"She can’t even give him a child."

"She must be cursed."

"Maybe she’s still in love with that high school boy of hers."

The rumors never stopped. The whispers clung to her, weaving through crowded rooms and empty hallways, following her wherever she went. How they even knew about him was a mystery, but the past had a way of resurfacing when she least expected it.

Before all of this, before Charles, before her father had stripped her of her name and inheritance, Suzanne had dreamed.

She had dreamed of standing beneath the hot glow of stage lights, of becoming someone else for a little while, of losing herself in stories that weren’t her own. Acting had been her passion, her escape. But her father had seen it as rebellion.

"You’re a Smith. Not some common performer."

"You were born to lead, not play dress-up on a stage."

When she refused to let go of her dreams, he had let go of her. Cut her off without hesitation, as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience.

So she fought.

She packed her bags, moved to Los Angeles, and started carving out a place for herself in an industry where women like her weren’t taken seriously. It was hard, so hard, but she had felt alive. Every rejection, every small victory, every second spent on a set had been worth it.

Then Charles had happened.

He had made her believe he would support her ambitions, that she could have both love and success. But the moment they were married, everything changed.

"You don’t need to work, Suzanne. I can give you everything you want."

"Why do you need the spotlight? Isn’t my love enough?"

"No wife of mine is going to embarrass me in front of our friends by playing make-believe for a living."

And just like that, she had given up her dream for a man who had never really wanted her, only the version of her that he could control.

And now?

Now, she was lying in a hospital bed, staring at a ceiling that felt just as cold and empty as she did inside.

No career.

No family.

No love.

Just the remnants of a life that had once felt so promising.

The silence pressed against her chest like a lead weight, suffocating in a way that had nothing to do with the sterile air or the rhythmic beeping of the machines surrounding her. She wanted to move, but even lifting her hand felt like an impossible task.

The door creaked open.

A nurse stepped inside, her expression professional but unreadable. "How are you feeling today, Mrs. Langford?"

Suzanne blinked, willing away the lump in her throat. She wanted to tell the truth, that she felt like nothing, that she wasn’t sure she even wanted to feel better.

Instead, she forced a small, practiced smile. "I’m… I’m okay."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

The nurse’s gaze flickered with something, doubt maybe, pity, but she didn’t press. She simply moved toward the machines, adjusting the IV drip with practiced efficiency. Suzanne watched her in silence, her thoughts spiraling.

How did she get here?

She shifted slightly, the crisp sheets rustling beneath her. The stiffness in her body made every movement a reminder of her reality. "What’s wrong with me?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

The nurse hesitated for just a second before offering a carefully measured smile. "Dr. Liam Carter will be here soon to go over everything with you."

The name slammed into her like a punch to the gut.

Liam Carter?

Her heart stuttered, her breath catching in her throat. No. It couldn’t be.

She hadn’t heard that name in years, not outside of the memories she had buried deep, in a place she refused to revisit.

Liam.

Her Liam.

The boy who once held her hand under the stars, who whispered dreams of a future where they’d run away together. The only person who ever made her feel enough just as she was. Before her father ripped them apart. Before Charles. Before her life became this endless, suffocating nightmare.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the bedsheet, gripping it like an anchor.

It had to be a coincidence. Had to be.

Liam had left years ago to study medicine, far from here. There was no reason he would be in this hospital, in this city, in her life again. Maybe it was just someone with the same name. Maybe…

Footsteps echoed down the hall, slow and deliberate.

Suzanne’s pulse pounded in her ears, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. She told herself it wasn’t him. That it couldn’t be him.

But then the footsteps stopped right outside her door.