Unexpected Co-star

Part 9

It starts off as just another day.

Hugh picks me up in his car, like he's done countless times before. We're laughing about yesterday's shoot, our usual playful banter filling the space between us. I glance at him while he drives, the morning sunlight casting a soft glow on his face, making him seem almost serene. It's easy, comfortable—just us.

We're halfway to the set when everything changes in an instant.

One moment, we're talking about nothing important, and the next, I see the flash of headlights coming toward us too fast. There's no time to react, no time to process what's happening. The sound of tires screeching fills the air, followed by the deafening impact of metal against metal. The car jerks violently, throwing me forward, then back, and everything goes black.

When I open my eyes, it's not to the quiet, familiar world I've known.

There's chaos around me—sirens blaring, voices shouting, but they sound muffled, distant. Pain radiates through my body, and I can't move. Everything feels heavy, wrong. I blink, trying to focus, trying to make sense of what's happening, but my vision swims, and I can't grasp onto anything solid.

I hear Hugh's voice—desperate, frantic. He's calling my name, but it feels like it's coming from far away, as if he's underwater. I try to respond, but nothing comes out. Darkness pulls at me again, dragging me down, and this time, I don't fight it.

--

When I wake up, it's to the sterile, harsh light of a hospital room. The beeping of machines fills the silence, steady and monotonous. My head feels like it's been split in two, a dull, throbbing ache that makes it hard to think, to remember.

I try to sit up, but a sharp pain in my chest stops me, and I wince, sinking back into the pillows.

"Emerson."

The voice is soft but urgent. I turn my head toward it and see a man standing at my bedside. His face is pale, a mixture of relief and fear in his eyes as he leans closer.

"Emerson, can you hear me?"

I blink at him, trying to place his face. He looks familiar, but I can't quite grasp it. I open my mouth, but the only thing I manage to say is, "Who are you?"

The man freezes, his expression crumbling as if I'd just struck him. For a moment, he doesn't speak, just stares at me like he's seeing a ghost. Finally, he swallows hard, his voice thick with disbelief. "Emerson... It's me. It's Hugh."

I search his face, but the name means nothing to me. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I don't... I don't know who you are."

The look of devastation that crosses his face is almost unbearable, like he's been gutted open. He steps back, running a hand through his hair, his breathing ragged. "No. No, no, no. This can't be happening."

I feel a wave of guilt, even though I don't know why. "I'm sorry," I repeat, my voice trembling. "I don't remember you."

A doctor enters the room, a clipboard in his hand, looking serious but calm. Hugh immediately turns to him, his frustration boiling over. "What the hell is going on? Why doesn't she remember me?"

The doctor looks between us, his expression carefully measured. "Mr. Jackman, we need to talk."

Hugh's face hardens. "Talk? You need to fix this! She doesn't remember anything—she doesn't even know who I am!"

The doctor holds up a hand, trying to calm him down. "It's not uncommon for patients who have suffered trauma, especially head injuries, to experience memory loss. Given the severity of the accident—"

Hugh's hands clench into fists at his sides, his voice rising. "I don't care about 'common' cases! She can't just forget everything! You have to do something."

The doctor sighs, his tone patient but firm. "We're doing everything we can, but there are no guarantees with memory loss. It could be temporary, or it could be long-term. We won't know until we run more tests."

I feel a knot tightening in my chest as I listen to them argue over me like I'm not even in the room. I try to speak up, to ask more questions, but my head feels heavy, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

"I need to see her charts," Hugh demands, his voice sharp with desperation.

"Mr. Jackman, I understand that this is difficult—"

"Difficult?" Hugh interrupts, his voice breaking. "This is more than difficult. You don't understand. I can't just—" He stops, his throat tightening as he glances at me, pain flickering in his eyes. "She's everything to me."

The doctor's expression softens, but he remains firm. "Right now, our focus is on making sure she recovers physically. Once we have a better idea of her condition, we can address the memory loss. But I need you to understand that pushing too hard, too fast could cause her more stress, and that won't help her recovery."

Hugh presses his lips together, his whole body tense. He looks at me, like he's waiting for something, but I have nothing to give him. I don't know this man, this Hugh, no matter how much it seems like I should.

"Let her rest," the doctor says gently. "We'll continue monitoring her condition."

Hugh doesn't say anything. He just stands there, staring at me like he's lost, like the world has shifted beneath him, and he doesn't know how to find his footing.

The doctor gives me a sympathetic look before turning to leave, leaving Hugh and me in a heavy silence.

I watch him, unsure of what to say or do. There's something in his eyes, something deep and raw, and it tugs at something inside me. But no matter how hard I try, I can't remember him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper again, not knowing what else to say.

Hugh takes a shaky breath, his hands falling to his sides. "It's okay," he says softly, though the pain in his voice is palpable. "We'll figure this out. I'll help you remember."

But as I lie there, exhausted and confused, I can't help but wonder if I ever will.