Chapter 130

~ Franklin ~ 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Do you know who Bella Washington is?" Octavia asked again, her voice laced with quiet confusion. Her eyes searched mine, wide and uncertain, as if the name had dropped into her mind like a stone into still water, sending ripples she couldn’t quite trace.

"Yes, I know who she is," I replied carefully, keeping my tone even.

"Do I know her?" she pressed, sitting up a little straighter against the pillows.

"Yes," I said again, the word heavier than it should have been.

"She’s someone we both know," I mumbled, buying a second to steady myself.

"So who is she to us?" she asked further, her brow furrowing with that familiar mix of curiosity and vulnerability that always tugged at something deep inside me.

"She’s... my ex," I admitted, watching the way her expression shifted. "And your colleague at work."

"Your... ex?" The words came out slowly, almost tasting them, as if they carried an unfamiliar bitterness on her tongue.

"Yeah. And your colleague at work," I added, hoping the second part might soften the blow.

"Why would your ex be my colleague?" she frowned, adjusting herself on the bed as if the revelation made the mattress suddenly uncomfortable. "Do I know her that well?"

"Not that well," I said gently. "With your memories returning gradually, you’ll understand better when the rest comes back. It’s complicated—everything was complicated back then."

"I can’t help but feel jealous of her," she confessed softly, her gaze dropping to the blanket between us. The admission hung in the air, raw and honest, revealing a flicker of the woman I’d fallen in love with—the one who felt everything deeply, even now.

"I’m done with her," I assured her, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You have nothing to worry about. That Chapter is closed. Completely."

"How long did you both date?" she asked, her voice steady but insistent.

"Does it matter?" I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Of course it does," she replied, a spark of fire returning to her eyes. "I have to know who this Bella Washington is—the woman who dated the man I married. It feels important, like my mind is trying to tell me something."

"She’s not important, trust me," I told her, but the words felt thin even to my own ears.

"But if my mind chose to bring up her name, then she must mean something," she insisted. "Though you said she’s your ex and my colleague at work and—"

"Maybe it’s just a sign that your memories are coming back gradually," I cut in gently, not wanting to dive deeper into the mess of the past.

"Well, they should hurry," she snapped, frustration flashing across her face, "because I’m losing my mind over these fragments."

"You don’t have to force them," I said softly, my hand finding hers. "They’ll come. It’s just a matter of time. Dr. Aris said the brain works in its own way—protecting you until you’re ready."

"I’m tired," she announced suddenly, her mood shifting like a cloud crossing the sun. I noticed how the mention of Bella had dimmed the light in her eyes, turning playful warmth into something guarded and distant.

"Are you sure?" I asked, studying her closely.

"Yes," she nodded, the single word carrying more weight than it let on.

"Okay," I murmured, standing to fluff her pillow and carefully set her laptop aside on the dresser. She lay back with a heavy sigh, pulling the duvet up to her chin like a shield.

"I had fun with you today, my queen," I said softly, the endearment slipping out like a habit I never wanted to break.

"Me too," she replied, but the response was quieter, almost guarded.

"Are you mad at me for something?" I asked, sensing the shift.

"Maybe. Maybe not," she shrugged, turning slightly away.

"Come on, Octavia... I know you’re angry with me," I pressed gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I’m just jealous," she mumbled, still facing the wall.

"Jealous and angry are basically the same thing right now," I teased lightly, trying to coax her back.

"Whatever," she said, but there was a hint of her old spark returning—the one that reminded me why I’d fight for every piece of her.

"Since you’re ’angry’ and not ’jealous,’ do you wish for me to leave? Or I don’t know..." I trailed off, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked, sitting up abruptly and looking straight at me, vulnerability flickering in her gaze.

"No. But if you don’t want me here, I can go," I told her honestly.

"Stay," she said simply, and the word settled warm in my chest.

"Okay," I nodded, smiling as I moved closer. I reached for her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, lingering there.

"Do you know what I’m thinking right now?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips despite everything.

"What? Tell me," I said, curiosity sparking.

"How the paperwork at the office would be piled up for me to tackle once I fully recover from this injury," she said, and I chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension between us.

"Well, I’m sure the colleagues you have at work will help you out," I told her.

"Colleagues like Bella Washington?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

"No, not Bella Washington," I rolled my eyes playfully. "You have good colleagues who can step in—like your best friend Victoria."

"True, but how would she help? She told me she’s one of the lead developers, so her office isn’t even in my department," she explained, her tone thoughtful.

"True, but it’s nearby, and I’m sure she’ll pitch in. Same with your other colleagues—aside from Bella," I added.

"So Bella is awful since she won’t help?" she asked, half-joking.

"Bella’s the top lead developer, so she’d be too busy anyway," I lied smoothly. In reality, Octavia and Bella had never gotten along, especially after I ended things with Bella to be with the woman now lying beside me. Bella’s jealousy had run deep, and it still lingered like a shadow I couldn’t fully escape.

"Okay, enough about her. Tell me something nice," she said, shifting so I could pull her against my chest as we lay down together.

"I love you," I whispered, the words simple but true.

She blushed, burying her face in my suit jacket. "Tell me more."

"I wish for you to be the mother of my children one day," I continued, my voice low and sincere.

"Say more," she coaxed, her tone lighter now.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on," I told her, meaning every syllable.

"That’s not nice," she pouted cutely, pulling back to look at me.

"It’s not?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"You know I’m not beautiful right now—my head is bandaged, I look pale, and I’m dressed in this hospital uniform. What definition of ’beautiful’ are you even using?" she frowned, self-doubt creeping into her voice.

"Don’t say that, Octavia," I said firmly, cupping her face. "You are beautiful. The hospital uniform and the bandage don’t change that. If anything, they show how strong and natural your beauty is—inside and out. I mean it."

"You do?" she clarified, searching my eyes.

"Yes," I nodded, holding her gaze until the doubt softened.

"Thank you," she murmured, relaxing against me as I patted her back softly.

We fell into a peaceful silence after that, the kind that wrapped around us like the duvet. The room felt quieter, the outside world distant. We stayed like that—her breathing steady against my chest—until sleep claimed her first. I followed soon after, the rhythm of her heartbeat lulling me under.

I felt Octavia toss and turn beside me, soft mumbles escaping her lips—words I could barely catch at first. "Help me," she whispered, the sound fragile in the dark. In my half-sleeping haze, I patted her back instinctively, trying to soothe whatever haunted her dreams. But then her voice rose. "Help! no, no, no, help me!" she yelled, the cry sharp and terrified.

I woke fully, heart slamming against my ribs, and turned to her. She was still asleep but thrashing now, trapped in a nightmare that twisted her features with fear. "Octavia? Baby," I said urgently, shaking her shoulder as Patricia rushed over from the far end of the ward. She must have slipped back in while we slept, choosing the empty bed to keep watch without disturbing us.

"Octavia, honey," Patricia called, her voice laced with worry as she flicked on the small bedside lamp. The sudden soft light revealed Octavia’s wide, panicked eyes as they fluttered open. She gazed around wildly—at the sterile walls, the monitors, then at me, and finally at her mother—before her trembling hands reached out.

"Franklin?" she called, her voice small and shaky.

"Yes, baby, I’m here," I assured her, pulling her into my arms and cradling her close, my hand stroking her back in slow, steady circles.

"Mom," she turned toward Patricia, who perched on the edge of the bed and took her daughter’s hand.

"I’m here, honey. You scared us both," Patricia said, her own eyes wide with concern.

"Where am I? Still in the hospital, right?" Octavia asked, looking up at me for confirmation.

"Yes," I nodded gently. "You’re safe."

"Okay," she breathed, relief washing over her face like a wave. "I had a nightmare...it was so scary."

"You’re still in shock," I said softly, not wanting to push. "Let’s not talk about it right now if you’re not ready."

"Hold me, Franklin," she whispered, tears spilling over as quiet sobs shook her frame.

Patricia and I exchanged a worried glance, but I pulled Octavia closer, wrapping her in my arms as tightly as I dared. I continued patting her back, my mind racing with unanswered questions about the nightmare that had gripped her so fiercely. Whatever shadows lurked in her subconscious, they were getting closer—and I wasn’t sure either of us was ready for them to surface.