Fragmented Memories
Rowan gasped, sitting upright in his bed. He looked around, his breath ragged and chest heaving.
He wasn’t on the hospital bed anymore. He wasn’t in the wreckage of that night either.
Instead, he was back in his penthouse bedroom, the familiar view of the city skyline greeting him through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He frowned, his hands clutching the sheets tightly.
“What just happened?” he muttered under his breath.
Remi… Laurent…
The name echoed in his head, refusing to leave him. It felt important, yet distant, like the remnants of a dream. Or was it a memory?
His jaw clenched as he tried to make sense of the fragmented images that swirled in his mind. Her voice, her name… But there were no images of her. No clear memories of them together.
He rubbed his temples, the ache behind his eyes growing sharper.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking his thoughts.
Rowan reached for it, his fingers hesitating before unlocking the screen. A notification blinked at him:
Appointment with Dr. Laurent — 10:30 AM.
His heart skipped a beat.
“Dr. Laurent,” he whispered, staring at the name.
Could it be her? The one from his dreams—or memories, whatever they were? He had to know.
But something else caught his attention. His gaze flicked to the pill bottle beside his phone. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
The label was familiar, but the pills inside weren’t.
They looked… off.
His frown deepened as he poured a couple into his palm, examining them closely. These weren’t the ones he’d been taking before.
Something was wrong.
He thought back to the last time he had asked for a refill. His memory sharpened, recalling the scene vividly:
“Gigi,” he’d said, handing her the empty bottle, “I need a refill. Make sure you get it from the usual pharmacy.”
She’d nodded, her usual smirk in place. “Of course, darling. I’ll take care of it.”
Ever since then, he’d felt different—lethargic, unfocused. Even the sharpness of his thoughts, something he prided himself on, seemed dulled.
Rowan tightened his grip on the bottle, his eyes narrowing.
“Damn it, Gigi,” he muttered, his suspicions rising.
The phone buzzed again, pulling his attention back.
He checked the time. It was already 9:45 AM.
His mind churned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the lingering pain from the accident. He needed answers, and maybe Dr. Laurent could give him some.
\---
The drive to the clinic was quiet, save for the hum of the engine. Rowan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his mind racing.
Why did her name feel so familiar?
The clinic wasn’t far, a modern glass building nestled in the heart of the city. Rowan parked and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the pristine interior.
The receptionist greeted him with a polite smile. “Mr. Vaughn, you’re right on time. Dr. Laurent will see you shortly.”
He nodded, his throat dry.
As he waited, he glanced around, his eyes landing on a framed article on the wall.
"Dr. Remi Laurent: Revolutionizing Cardiology."
The photo accompanying the article showed a young woman, her smile radiant, exuding confidence.
Rowan’s breath caught.
Her.
The name, the voice—they all aligned now. She wasn’t just a name haunting his thoughts. She was real.
Before he could dwell further, the door to her office opened.
“Mr. Vaughn?”
Rowan turned, his heart pounding as he came face-to-face with her.
Dr. Laurent—Remi—stood there, her expression professional but distant.
“Please, come in,” she said, gesturing to the room.
He followed her, his mind a storm of questions.
\---
The office was sleek yet warm, with bookshelves lining one wall and a large window offering a view of the city.
“Take a seat,” Remi said, motioning to the chair opposite her desk.
Rowan obeyed, his eyes never leaving her face.
“I’ve reviewed your medical records,” she began, her tone clinical. “How have you been feeling since the accident?”
“Confused,” Rowan admitted, leaning forward. “I’ve been… remembering things. Or dreaming them. I’m not sure which.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Memory disturbances aren’t uncommon after trauma. What exactly are you experiencing?”
He hesitated, searching her face for any sign of recognition.
“Your name,” he said finally. “It feels familiar. Like I know you.”
Remi’s hand froze over her notes, but her expression remained neutral.
“I’m a public figure in the medical field,” she said smoothly. “It’s possible you’ve come across my name before.”
“No,” Rowan said firmly, shaking his head. “It’s more than that. I feel like…” He trailed off, his frustration evident.
Remi set her pen down, her gaze steady. “Mr. Vaughn, I can assure you we’ve never met before professionally or otherwise.”
Her words were like a slap, but something in her eyes—something fleeting—made him doubt her.
“Then why do I feel like I’ve lost something?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Like I’ve lost someone?”
She didn’t answer immediately, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“Memory is a tricky thing,” she said at last. “Sometimes, our minds create connections that aren’t there to fill in gaps.”
Rowan leaned back, studying her. “Is that what this is? A false connection?”
Remi held his gaze, her mask of professionalism firmly in place.
“Perhaps,” she said softly.
But as she turned back to her notes, Rowan caught the slightest tremble in her hands.
And in that moment, he knew she was lying.
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