Ryan’s POV
I felt it before she fell. Her face suddenly went pale, and I saw her eyes losing focus as she started to sway. Without hesitation, I lunged forward and caught Serena just as her legs gave out.
"Serena? Serena?" I called her na twice, my voice steady despite the panic rising in my chest. There was no response, her body completely limp in my arms.
Eleanor’s composure instantly crumbled. "What do we do? Was it too much shopping? Is she okay?" Her voice pitched higher with each question.
Thankfully, Zoe remained calm, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Don’t panic. Let’s get her to the nearest hospital."
I nodded once, already shifting Serena into a proper carrying position. I lifted her against my chest, one arm supporting her back, the other under her knees. Her head rested against my shoulder, her breathing shallow but present.
"I’ve got her," I said, already moving toward the exit. "Call ahead to the hospital. Tell them we’re coming."
The boutique staff scrambled to clear a path as I strode through the store, Serena’s sisters hurrying behind . Every second felt crucial. I’d failed to protect her before—I wouldn’t let that happen again.
Fortunately, there was a dical center just blocks away. Within minutes, Serena was being rushed into an ergency room, leaving the three of us pacing anxiously in the hallway.
"This isn’t the first ti," Zoe said after several minutes of tense silence. She explained the previous incident to in low, asured tones. "Last ti she collapsed after Eleanor ntioned things from her past. Doctor Shawn said it was just a side effect of her amnesia, nothing serious."
My jaw tightened. "If that’s all it is, fine. But if these mory triggers are causing her actual harm," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous calm, "then you need to stop. Both of you. I don’t care about her rembering her past if it puts her health at risk."
I fixed both sisters with an unyielding stare. "She’s found her family again. That should be enough. The missing mories aren’t worth her suffering."
Zoe sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I agree completely. But today was different—we weren’t actively trying to make her rember anything. We were just shopping, eating, talking... normal things."
"Then what caused this?" I asked, more to myself than to her.
The ergency room doors finally swung open. A doctor erged, followed by an orderly wheeling Serena on a gurney. She was still unconscious, looking impossibly fragile against the white sheets.
"How is she?" I imdiately stepped forward, searching the doctor’s face for answers.
The doctor removed his mask, his expression reassuring. "No need for alarm. We’ve examined her thoroughly. The fainting episode wasn’t caused by any external triggers."
"She’s stable now," he continued. "We’re moving her to a regular room where she can rest until she wakes up."
We all visibly relaxed at his words, though my concern hadn’t fully dissipated.
"Does she have any previous dical conditions we should know about?" the doctor asked.
"Nothing specific," I replied. "Though she did fall into the ocean three years ago and lost her mory as a result. Could this episode be related to that?"
The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "That explains a lot. Lost mories often resurface gradually when exposed to familiar environnts or stimuli."
"Her fainting spell might indicate that her brain is processing recovered mories—the sudden ntal load simply overwheld her system temporarily."
I appreciated his straightforward explanation. "Thank you, doctor."
After he left, Zoe leaned against the wall with a weary sigh. "So it is the amnesia after all. Even without deliberately triggering her mories, just being around us, shopping together, talking—it’s all affecting her subconsciously."
Eleanor’s face had gone pale. "But she’ll be okay, right?" Her usual confidence had evaporated, replaced by genuine concern.
"The doctor says she’s stable. All we can do now is wait for her to wake up."
No matter what happened when Serena woke—whether she rembered everything or nothing—my feelings for her wouldn’t change. I’d stand by her either way, protecting her from anything that might harm her, including well-aning family mbers who pushed too hard.
Serena’s POV
When I ca to, I was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by sterile white walls and the faint beep of dical equipnt. My head was pounding, but sothing felt different. The fog that had clouded parts of my mind seed to have lifted.
Ryan, Eleanor, and Zoe were huddled near the doorway, speaking in hushed tones with a doctor. I caught fragnts of their conversation—words like "mory recovery" and "cognitive stress." I closed my eyes, trying to process what was happening.
That’s when the images started flowing. Not like before—not fragnted glimpses that vanished as quickly as they appeared. These were complete, vivid mories washing over in waves.
I saw myself as a little girl, running through the sprawling gardens of Quinn Manor in a frilly dress, my laughter echoing across the perfectly manicured lawns. Then suddenly I was older, at my grand coming-of-age celebration, wearing a stunning white gown with a delicate tiara nestled in my hair. I rembered blowing out the candles on an elaborate cake, surrounded by the elite of British society.
Another flash—I was in a sleek conference room, finalizing my first major design partnership. The pride in my father’s eyes, the champagne toast, my na on glossy business cards: Serena Quinn, Creative Director.
Then darkness. Being pushed—or was I? The cold shock of water, the desperate struggle to surface, the crushing pressure in my lungs...
My eyes flew open and I bolted upright, gasping for air. Three startled faces turned toward , frozen in anticipation.
"Serena, are you okay?" Zoe approached cautiously, taking my trembling hand in hers.
I looked at her—really looked at her—and felt the tears welling up. "Zoe," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I rember. I rember everything."
Her eyes widened. "Serena, what did you just call ? Do you... do you truly rember?"
I nodded, turning to my other sister who stood paralyzed with hope and fear. "Eleanor."
Ryan exhaled deeply, relief evident in the loosening of his shoulders. I could read his thoughts—he was glad I wouldn’t have to suffer through more episodes of confusion and disorientation.
Eleanor burst into tears, rushing to my bedside. "Serena, you finally rember! I’m so sorry—it was all my fault for insisting on that stupid celebration on the yacht. I’ve been such a terrible sister."
"Serena," Zoe cut in, always the practical one, "we should have the doctors run so more tests to make sure everything’s okay. Just to be safe."
I hesitated but agreed. Despite the clarity I felt, the dical confirmation would reassure us all. Within minutes, I was wheeled away for a CT scan while they waited anxiously in the hallway.
When I returned, Ryan pulled close, his arms providing a sanctuary I hadn’t realized I needed. "Don’t worry," he murmured against my hair. "Everything will be fine. And when we get back to the Quinn estate, you can reconnect with your parents properly—though maybe skip the part where I was a complete ass to you. No need to make them hate more than they probably already do."
I couldn’t help but laugh. "Too late for that. Their impression of you isn’t exactly stellar."
His eyes crinkled as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear. "Then I’m counting on you to put in a good word for . Otherwise, my grand reconciliation plans might be dood from the start."
The tension lted from my body, replaced by sothing lighter, more hopeful. I caught Eleanor watching us from across the room, a wistful smile playing on her lips.
The doctor returned with my scans, his expression reassuring. "Everything looks perfectly normal," he confird, reviewing the images. "The mory recovery appears to have happened naturally, without any physical trauma to the brain. You’re free to go ho."
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