Tricky Thoughts
The ache in his chest was unfamiliar, unwelcome. He hadn’t thought about her much after she left—or so he told himself. She had been a complication, a responsibility he hadn’t wanted.
But now, watching her command the respect of an entire field, he felt something he couldn’t name.
Or wouldn’t.
The sound of footsteps drew him from his thoughts. Gigi strolled into the room, her heels clicking against the floor. She held a wine glass in one hand, her expression curious as she noticed the flickering TV.
“You’re watching daytime interviews now?” she teased, settling onto the couch beside him. “What’s the occasion?”
He ignored her, but her eyes darted to the screen just in time to catch the final frame of Remi’s interview. Gigi’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “Her.”
Rowan’s gaze snapped to her. “What about her?”
Gigi smirked, swirling her wine. “You’ve seen the tabloids, haven’t you? Everyone’s talking about how she’s making waves in the medical world. ‘Dr. Laurent this, Dr. Laurent that.’”
He said nothing, his expression guarded.
“Come on, Rowan,” Gigi pressed, leaning closer. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling nostalgic. She’s clearly doing fine without you. Better, even.”
Rowan’s eyes darkened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Gigi tilted her head, her smirk unrelenting. “You had your chance with her, and you blew it. She’s moved on. Maybe you should too.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with irritation. He stood abruptly, the glass in his hand clattering onto the table.
“Stay out of it, Gigi,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Gigi leaned back, unfazed, taking another sip of her wine. “Touchy, aren’t we? You act like you didn’t call her a maid and treat her like trash. Maybe she’s happier now that she’s free of you.”
His fists clenched, but before he could respond, his phone buzzed. The screen flashed with a notification about a meeting he was already late for.
Rowan exhaled sharply. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Running away again?” Gigi taunted, her tone dripping with amusement.
Ignoring her, Rowan grabbed his jacket and keys. “Get in the car if you’re coming,” he barked, his patience wearing thin.
Gigi grinned, finishing her drink in one swift motion. “Always a pleasure, darling.”
\---
The drive was tense. Rowan’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, his thoughts swirling with fragments of the past. Gigi sat beside him, idly scrolling through her phone, occasionally humming along to the music playing softly from the radio.
The silence stretched until Gigi broke it. “You know, if you’re so bothered by her success, why don’t you just reach out? Or are you too proud to admit you miss her?”
Rowan shot her a sharp look. “Drop it, Gigi.”
“Fine, fine,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “But don’t say I didn’t try to help.”
The rain started as a light drizzle, but within minutes, it became a relentless downpour. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up, and the roads grew slick.
Rowan’s attention was focused on the road, but his mind was elsewhere. Her name—Remi—echoed in his thoughts, accompanied by fleeting images of her smile, her laugh, and the way she used to look at him before everything fell apart.
Gigi glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “You’re quiet. Thinking about her?”
“Gigi,” he said warningly, his patience thinning even further.
She smirked. “You didn’t deny it.”
He didn’t respond.
The road curved sharply, and Rowan’s attention snapped back to the present. But it was too late.
A truck appeared out of nowhere, skidding across the slick pavement, its headlights blinding. Rowan slammed on the brakes, but the car hydroplaned, spinning out of control.
“Rowan!” Gigi screamed, clutching the door as the car veered toward the guardrail.
The impact was deafening. Metal crunched, glass shattered, and the world turned upside down. Rowan’s head slammed against the steering wheel, and everything went black.
\---
The sound of machines beeping steadily was the first thing he noticed. It was faint, but it grew louder as consciousness crept in.
Rowan gasped, his eyes snapping open. Pain shot through his body, sharp and unrelenting, but it wasn’t what consumed him.
It was the voice.
Her voice.
“Rowan.”
He could hear it, soft and distant, like a memory buried deep in his subconscious.
“Rowan.”
He tried to focus, to latch onto the sound, but his vision was blurry, his thoughts fragmented.
“Who…?” His voice was raspy, barely audible.
The name echoed in his mind again. Remi.
Flashes of something—someone—danced at the edges of his memory. A smile. A touch. A whisper.
But the face remained elusive.
The door to the room opened, and a nurse entered, her expression a mix of professionalism and concern. “Mr. Vaughn, you’re awake.”
He struggled to speak, his throat dry. “Where…?”
“You’re at Galvia General. You were in a car accident,” the nurse explained, adjusting the monitors.
His mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments. The crash. The rain. Gigi.
“Gigi?” he managed, his voice strained.
“She’s stable,” the nurse assured him. “She’s in another room recovering.”
Relief washed over him, but it was fleeting. The voice, the name—it wouldn’t leave him.
As the nurse checked his vitals, he closed his eyes, the beeping of the machines fading into the background.
Remi.
Why did her name haunt him? Why did he feel like something was missing, like a part of him had been ripped away?
And why, for the briefest moment, did he think she was the one wh
o saved him?
The thought lingered as he drifted back into a restless sleep, the shadows of memories just out of reach.
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