Chapter 156: ~ 156
Chapter 156
~ Octavia ~
Two days had passed since I called Clinton, and the silence from his end felt heavier with every passing hour. I hadn’t dared dial his number again. The memory of that cheerful yet edged female voice answering his phone still lingered, stirring unease in my chest. What if she picked up this time and wasn’t so polite? What if she was his girlfriend—or someone close enough to him that my call had crossed an invisible line? The possibility twisted something painful inside me. Maybe I had become an unwelcome complication in his life.
Despite the quiet ache of unanswered questions, my body was steadily improving. Strength was slowly returning to my limbs, and the fog that had clouded my mind for so long was finally lifting. I sat upright in the hospital bed, fingers lightly gripping the edge of the crisp white blanket, lost in a swirl of thoughts about Clinton, Franklin, and the fragile new reality of my recovered memories.
"Good morning, Octavia."
Dr. Aris’s calm voice pulled me back to the present. He walked in with a clipboard tucked under his arm and a reassuring smile on his face.
"Good morning, Dr. Aris," I mumbled, offering a small smile in return.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked, stepping closer to check my vitals.
"Better," I replied honestly. "Stronger."
"No headaches? No dizziness or nausea?" He placed a gentle hand on my forehead to feel my temperature.
I shook my head. "None."
"And your memory?" His tone was careful, professional.
I paused for a brief moment, letting the weight of everything I now remembered settle. "It’s all there," I said quietly. "The important pieces, at least."
Dr. Aris studied me for a second longer, then nodded with quiet approval, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Good. That’s exactly what we like to hear." He flipped through the pages on his clipboard. "Your mother?"
"She went home to cook lunch for me," I answered.
He nodded again. "And your husband?"
I hesitated before replying. "He’s in his grandfather’s private ward."
Another nod as he continued reviewing my chart. "Your vitals have remained stable for the past forty-eight hours. Neurological responses are normal, with no signs of confusion or relapse. Everything looks very promising."
I gripped the blanket a little tighter, hope flickering in my chest. "So... I can go home today?"
Dr. Aris smiled warmly. "Yes. We’ll be discharging you today."
A strange mixture of relief and unease washed over me. Home. The word carried both comfort and uncertainty. Where exactly was home now?
"I’m glad to hear that, Doctor," I said, my voice softer than I intended.
"If your mother returns, please ask her to come see me in my office. Your husband as well—Mr. Flemington should be there too."
"I will," I promised with a nod.
"I’ll send a nurse in to dress your wound before discharge." With that, he left the room.
A few minutes later, a kind-faced nurse entered and began tending to the healing injury on the side of my head. The heavy bandage was replaced with lighter gauze and cotton wool, a small but meaningful sign of progress.
"Am I free to wash and comb my hair now?" I asked as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
"Not quite yet," she replied gently. "We need the wound to heal completely before you do anything vigorous with your hair. We’re being extra cautious."
She dabbed the area with cotton soaked in methylated spirit. A sharp sting made me wince.
"Sorry about that," she said soothingly. "You’ll be fine soon."
I wanted to believe her. But how could I, when Franklin’s secretary—my kidnapper—was still out there somewhere in New York, free and unaccounted for?
The nurse had just finished when Franklin walked in, looking sharp in a tailored three-piece navy blue suit that accentuated his tall frame. The nurse excused herself quietly and slipped out.
"Hey," he said, his voice low.
"Hey," I replied, suddenly aware of the tension that always seemed to hover between us now.
"I ran into Dr. Aris in the hallway. He told me you’re being discharged today."
"Yes," I sighed. "Today."
"How’s your grandfather?" I asked after a beat.
He shrugged, pain flickering across his face. "Still the same. No change."
"He’ll be fine," I tried to reassure him, though the words felt fragile even to my own ears.
Franklin only shrugged again, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
"How are you doing?" he asked, turning the focus back to me.
"I’m... fine," I answered simply.
"Your mother isn’t back yet?"
"Not yet."
He crossed his arms, studying me. "If you’re discharged today, that means you’ll be going back to your apartment, right?"
"I don’t know yet," I shrugged.
"Or maybe back to the estate?" he suggested.
"No," I said firmly, frowning. "When my mother returns, I think she’ll want me to stay with her and Dad in their apartment in Soho. At least for a while."
"You need supervision. I get it," he mumbled, almost to himself.
"What about us, Octavia?" The question came out quiet but heavy.
I looked away, my chest tightening. "I don’t know, Franklin. Being with you right now... it feels like it ruins too many things. Especially after everything that happened before my accident."
"But you don’t understand," he insisted, stepping closer. "Nothing happened that night I left you at the resort—"
"Then explain how I received your nude photos the very next morning," I shot back, my voice sharper than intended.
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the door opened and my parents walked in.
"Dad!" My face lit up instantly.
"Octavia, my dear," he said warmly, crossing the room in quick strides to pull me into a tight embrace. We held each other for a long moment, the familiar scent of his cologne bringing unexpected comfort.
"Oh, I’ve missed you so much," he murmured against my hair.
"Me too," I whispered, blinking back sudden tears as we pulled apart.
"When did you get back?" I asked. My mother had mentioned he was away on a business trip in Tennessee.
"Not long ago. Your mom picked me up from the airport," he replied, still holding my hand.
"You should have rested first," I scolded gently.
"I needed to see you before anything else. She told me last night that your memories have returned. I was overjoyed when I heard."
"Me too," I said, glancing at my mother, who stood quietly smiling.
"So you remember everything now?" he asked.
"Most of it. The important memories—both the good and the bad," I replied, my eyes briefly meeting Franklin’s intense gaze.
"Welcome back, Mr. Herman," Franklin said politely.
"Thank you, Franklin," my father nodded. "My wife told me what happened to your grandfather. We’ll talk about that later."
Franklin gave a slow nod.
"Have you both seen the doctor today?" I asked my parents.
"No, why?" they replied, exchanging a curious look.
"He said when Mom returned, she should come to his office. Since you’re both here now, you can go together."
"Okay," my father said, though a small frown creased his brow. "I hope it’s nothing bad."
"It’s not," I assured him quickly.
"Let’s go then," he said. "We’ll be right back, honey."
My mother gave me a gentle smile before they left, leaving Franklin and me alone once more.
"Octavia—" he began.
"Don’t," I cut him off, raising a hand. "Whatever you want to say right now... please don’t. I don’t want to talk about anything that might upset me."
He stared at me for a long, heavy moment, searching my face. Finally, he nodded in quiet defeat. "Okay."
Without another word, he turned and quietly left the ward.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I let out a long, trembling sigh, fighting hard against the tears that threatened to fall. So much had changed. So much still hurt. And now, with discharge looming, the question of what came next felt more complicated than ever.
