Chapter 107

~ Franklin ~

I didn’t realize how fast I was walking until the hospital’s automatic glass doors hissed shut behind me with a soft, final sound. It echoed in my chest like the closing of a vault. I stopped dead on the sidewalk, the cool evening air slapping against my face. The city kept moving around me—cars slicing through traffic, strangers laughing into their phones, life pulsing on as if nothing had changed. But inside me, everything had fractured.

She remembered them. Her parents. The way her eyes had softened when she looked at Ben and Patricia, the quiet recognition that lit up her face—it had been real. Warm. Immediate. But when she turned those same eyes on me... nothing. Just polite confusion and a stranger’s wariness.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. The words she’d spoken still rang in my ears, clear and merciless. Who are you? They cut deeper every time I replayed them. Her gaze had held no flicker of the woman who loved me. Now I was just a tall man in a tailored suit who didn’t belong in her story.

A bitter, hollow laugh slipped out before I could stop it. Maybe her brain was protecting her. After all the pain I’d caused—the secrets, the fights, the way I’d pushed her away when she needed me most—perhaps forgetting me was the kindest thing her mind could do. I needed air. Space. Something stronger than the sterile hospital smell that still clung to my clothes.

I hadn’t brought Walter with me today, so I slid behind the wheel of my car and drove without thinking. The streets blurred until I pulled up outside a quiet bar I’d passed a hundred times but never entered. Dim golden light spilled from the windows. It looked lonely enough to match my mood.

Inside, the place was hushed, just the low hum of jazz from hidden speakers and the clink of ice in glasses. I took a stool at the far end of the polished counter. "Whiskey, neat," I told the bartender. He poured without comment, sliding the heavy glass toward me. The amber liquid caught the low light, steady and calm—everything I wasn’t. I stared at it for a long moment, then lifted it to my lips. The first sip burned a clean path down my throat. The second did nothing to dull the ache.

No matter how much I drank, her face stayed with me: that lost, searching look, as if I were a puzzle she couldn’t solve and wasn’t sure she wanted to. My reflection in the glass looked back at me—tired eyes, clenched jaw, a man who had once believed love was enough to fix anything. I tightened my grip until my knuckles whitened.

My phone vibrated sharply against the wood, jolting me. I glanced at the screen and sighed. Grandpa. I answered before the second ring.

"Franklin, my boy," his voice came through, warm and urgent. "I’ve been waiting for news. How’s Octavia?"

I leaned back against the stool, staring at the rows of bottles behind the bar. "She woke up."

A long pause, then a deep breath of relief. "Thank God. That’s wonderful news!"

"Yeah," I said, the word tasting flat. "Wonderful."

He caught the tone immediately. "Something’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice. Talk to me."

I rubbed my temples, the whiskey suddenly heavy in my stomach. "She doesn’t recognize me, Grandpa."

"What do you mean?"

"She remembers her parents. The second they walked in, she knew them—called them Mom and Dad like the words had been waiting right there on her tongue. But me?" My voice cracked. "She looked at me like I was a stranger who’d wandered into the wrong room. I told her my name. Told her I was someone important to her. She just... nodded. Polite. Empty. Like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter."

Silence stretched between us. I waited for the pity I didn’t want, but when he finally spoke, his voice was steady and kind, the same tone he’d used when I was a boy learning that not every battle could be won with fists.

"Franklin, listen to me. This doesn’t mean she’s lost to you."

A short, humorless laugh escaped me. "It sure as hell feels like it."

"It isn’t," he said firmly. "The doctor told you the brain needs time, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. "Days, weeks... maybe months."

"Then give it time. I know waiting feels impossible right now, but nothing worth keeping ever comes easy."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and fear twisting together. "You don’t understand. The way she looked at me... it was like staring at a blank wall where our whole life used to be."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked, a quiet challenge in his words.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Are you going to walk away because she forgot you? Or are you going to make her remember?"

The question hung there, simple and brutal. "I’m not walking away, Grandpa. I was just—"

"Good," he cut in. "Because you loved her before she forgot you, and that hasn’t changed. She may not remember you right now, but feelings like that don’t vanish. Sometimes they’re just buried deep. Waiting for the right moment to surface again."

I thought of all the mistakes I’d made—the nude photos that had shattered her trust, the fight at Madison Square Garden, the night Clinton showed up at her apartment and everything exploded. The guilt I carried felt heavier than the whiskey in my glass. "So I start over?" 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"If that’s what it takes," he said gently. "But at the end of the day, you tell her the truth. All of it. No more hiding. No more walls. Love like yours deserves honesty."

I let out a slow breath, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction. "You’re right. You’re always right."

He chuckled softly. "That’s the spirit. You won’t lose her, Franklin. Not if you fight the way I know you can."

"I’m not going to lose her," I said, the words solidifying into a vow. "I’ll make her remember. Every single day, every single moment, until she has no choice but to feel it again."

"I’m glad to hear that, son. Now go be with her family. And then get some rest. You’ll need your strength."

"Yeah. I’ll be home soon."

I ended the call and sat there a little longer, letting his words settle over me like armor. The bar felt quieter now, the jazz softer. I dropped a few bills on the counter and stepped back into the night. The cool air sharpened everything—the ache in my chest, the determination in my blood.

If she had forgotten me, I would remind her. By showing her, day after day, the man who loved her enough to start over. Enough to earn her heart all over again.

I got into my car and turned back toward the hospital. I needed to say goodnight to Ben and Patricia, to stand in the doorway and look at Octavia one more time—even if she still saw only a stranger. Then I would drive home and begin planning how to win back the only woman who had ever made me feel truly alive.