Whose Baby Is This?-1
Sebastian’s POV
When the physicians first mentioned brain damage, I’d researched every fucking possibility it could entail. I’d read about selective amnesia too, just never imagined it would happen to Thea.
“Selective amnesia manifests as patients forgetting portions of their lives,” the chief physician explained, his voice weighted with gravity. “In Thea’s case, she’s lost memory of the past four years. Some cases recover completely, others only remember fragments, and some patients may never fill those gaps.”
I scanned the room, taking in everyone’s reactions. Leo and I were the only lucky ones. She remembered us but had forgotten everyone else present.
“Are you saying she might never remember us?” Iris asked, her voice trembling.
Her fingers twisted nervously together as she fought to stay composed. I knew how hard this hit her. They were best friends, and now the physician was telling her Thea might
never recall their shared memories.
“So that’s why Mom doesn’t know who Phoenix is?” Leo suddenly spoke up, his tone
confident and matter–of–fact.
In a room full of anxious adults, a six–year–old pup was the most collected one. Leo was
growing into a fine Alpha heir. While most kids his age would struggle to articulate their
thoughts, Leo didn’t. He was my son, but his confidence often surprised me.
“Yes, Leo.” The physician nodded, then turned to address all of us. “We’ve also discovered
she’s having difficulty recognizing certain letters and numbers. Given she still works as a
teacher, I strongly advise against her returning to work for now.”
“But I love teaching,” Thea frowned, sadness filling her voice. “It’s part of who I am.”
“Recovery is the priority now,” the physician insisted. “We need to determine if this condition is reversible and how much recovery is possible.”
Though she didn’t like it, she agreed.
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Whose Baby Is This?-1
“When can she be discharged?” I asked, already mentally planning arrangements.
“I’d like to observe her for one more night, and if everything’s normal, you can take her home tomorrow.”
Leo nearly jumped out of his seat at the news. The kid had spent three months worrying his mother would never wake up, and now knowing she could come home tomorrow, his joy was barely containable. I noticed he’d been clutching Thea’s hand since our conversation began, like he feared she’d disappear again if he let go.
“Could I speak with you all privately for a moment?” The physician motioned toward the door. “Leo can stay with his mother.”
As we followed the physician into the hallway, my stomach churned. Was there something else? What could be worse than “she’s forgotten four years of her life“?
“I must emphasize one thing,” the physician’s voice grew more serious. “Do not attempt to force her to remember what she’s lost. Many families try this, but for patients with brain trauma, it can trigger severe migraines and, in extreme cases, even seizures.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Maximus sounded lost.
The physician turned to me. “I know you’re divorced now, Alpha Ashworth, but she currently believes you’re still married. Medically speaking, it’s best to return her to familiar surroundings–meaning, back to where you lived together, surrounded by familiar things and people, maintaining the life she remembers for now.”
The suggestion made me catch my breath. My wolf immediately perked up, This is our chance! he roared in my mind.
But logic told me this could be a dangerous path. I couldn’t go back to how I was during our marriage. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t have feelings for her. And when she eventually recovered her memories, what would she think about me letting her live a lie? It wouldn’t
just be a betrayal of her trust–it could destroy any hope of repairing what was between
- us.
“Isn’t that deceiving her? A lot has changed,” Sophia voiced my concerns directly.
“I understand your feelings, but this is the best approach for now. The last thing we need
is her nervous system overloading. That could have serious consequences.”
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Whose Baby Is This?-1
I reluctantly admitted his point was reasonable. That damn silver bullet was still lodged in her brain, and if too much stress made her condition worse…
“What are we supposed to do?” Seraphina asked painfully. “I’m her mother, and she doesn’t even remember my name. Are we supposed to pretend we’re strangers?”
“Build new connections with her,” the physician suggested gently. “Don’t focus on the past, but on the present. Please understand, her brain is selectively blocking memories for self–protection. Breaking through that protection could have unpredictable
consequences.”
