Emotional Hurt

I stood in front of the glowing screen in the lab, my eyes tracing the scans of Rowan’s brain. It was incredible how delicate the human mind was—how one moment of trauma could rearrange everything, erase years, and leave you a stranger to your own life. His scans showed the aftermath of the surgery, the damaged areas of his brain that had been repaired, and the swollen sections that had likely led to his memory gaps.

A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. Dr. Carter, one of my colleagues, and good friend, the person who had gotten me my job, entered the room, holding a folder and a cup of coffee. He glanced at the scans and then at me, raising an eyebrow.

"So, how’s our miracle patient?" he asked, sipping from his cup as he moved to stand beside me.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to push down the wave of emotions that had been rolling through me since Rowan woke up. "He’s awake, responsive... and smiling."

Dr. Carter chuckled. "Smiling? That’s a good sign."

"Yeah," I muttered. "It’s just... he doesn’t remember everything. He knows who Gigi is, his grandmother, even his mother. But he doesn’t remember me. Or anything about our past.”

Dr. Carter’s brows furrowed as he looked at the scans again. “Hmm. That makes sense, actually. Based on these images, there’s significant swelling in the hippocampus, which handles long-term memory, as well as some disruption in the amygdala. It’s likely he’s lost specific segments, possibly emotional memories tied to certain periods of his life.”

“Lucky him,” I said under my breath, staring at the scan that highlighted the damage. It was like seeing my past erased before my eyes. Every hurtful word, every fight, every moment we’d been through—wiped clean. All because of a crash. It didn’t seem fair.

Dr. Carter gave me a sideways glance. “You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Why would I be? He gets to forget all the damage he caused while I’m stuck with it. All those years, all that pain... and now, to him, I’m just his surgeon. Just a stranger.”

He set his coffee down and leaned against the table. “That’s not unusual in cases like this. Traumatic memories, especially those tied to emotional pain, are often the first to get lost. The brain protects itself that way.”

"Protects itself," I repeated, the words bitter on my tongue. "But what about the people left behind? The ones who can’t forget?"

Dr. Carter was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning the images on the screen. “Do you really want him to remember everything? All the pain, the resentment? Would it be better for him to carry that weight again? Would it make you feel better?”

I paused, staring at the scan, the bright, glowing lines that mapped out the areas affected by the injury. “I don’t know,” I admitted softly. “Part of me wants him to know... to remember what he did to me. To acknowledge it, at least.”

"And the other part?" he asked, his tone gentle.

“The other part?” I let out a breath, my shoulders slumping. “The other part of me is just tired. Tired of holding onto all this anger, this resentment. Maybe it would be easier if he didn’t remember. If I could move on, too.”

Dr. Carter nodded, his face softening with understanding. “That’s the thing about memory loss. It’s like hitting a reset button, but it doesn’t reset the people around you. You’ve lived through that pain, and whether he remembers or not, it’s still real for you.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Exactly. But how do I move on when he doesn’t even remember what he did? How do I forgive someone who doesn’t even know they need to be forgiven?”

He sighed, glancing at the scan again. “It’s not easy, Remi. There’s no simple answer. But maybe... maybe this is an opportunity. A clean slate for both of you.”

“A clean slate?” I scoffed. “He forgets, and I just... what? Pretend everything’s fine? Pretend we’re strangers?”

Dr. Carter met my gaze, his expression calm but firm. “No. You don’t have to pretend. But you can decide how you want to move forward. You can choose whether or not to hold onto the past, or to let go of it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I just don’t know if I can let go.”

He nodded, understanding the weight of what I was saying. “You don’t have to decide now. But keep in mind, this is a unique situation. He’s not the same man he was before the accident. He’s lost parts of himself—parts you knew. But that doesn’t mean he’s not capable of being different.”

“Different,” I repeated, feeling the word linger in the air. “But is different enough?”

Dr. Carter sighed again, his voice softer this time. “Only you can answer that, Remi.”

I looked back at the scan, my thoughts racing. Could I really face Rowan as he was now, a man who didn’t remember all the hurt he caused me? Could I start over with him, knowing that everything we’d been through was lost to him?

As the silence stretched between us, the door to the lab opened, and Nurse Chloe poked her head in, her face bright with excitement.

“Remi, Dr. Carter... Rowan’s awake again and asking for you.”

I blinked, feeling a rush of emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with. “He’s asking for me?”

She nodded, her smile wide. “Yeah. Specifically. He said he wanted to thank the surgeon who saved his life.”

Dr. Carter gave me a look, one that was both supportive and curious. “Well, there’s your answer.”

I forced a smile, trying to push down the wave of anxiety that surged through me. “Alright. I’ll go see him.”

As I turned to leave, Dr. Carter’s voice stopped me. “Remi, whatever happens, just remember—you’re in control of how this plays out. You don’t owe him anything. Not even forgiveness.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over me like a blanket. “I know.”

With that, I left the lab and headed toward Rowan’s room. The hallways felt longer than usual, each step heavy with the knowledge that the man I was about to face was both the same and completely different.

When I reached his room, I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the door handle. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open.

Rowan was sitting up in bed, his eyes bright as they met mine. His face lit up with that same smile—warm, soft, unburdened by the past.

“Remi,” he said, his voice full of gratitude. “I just wanted to thank you. You saved my life.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to focus. “That’s my job.”

Rowan tilted his head, studying me with a curiosity that felt both familiar and foreign. “You look... familiar.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. Should I tell him the truth? Should I remind him of the life we once shared—or should I let him remain in the dark?

I forced a smile, the same one I had worn so many times before. “Maybe in another life.”

Rowan chuckled, oblivious to the hidden meaning behind my words. “Maybe.”