Lost and Found In Love (WRITING IN PROGRESS)

Chapter 7

The hospital room was quiet, the soft morning light creeping through the blinds and casting faint patterns across the walls. William sat up in bed, absently running his fingers over the frame of the photograph that Clara had brought him. It was the same one he'd spent hours staring at—a man and a boy in a park, the boy's wide grin almost infectious. But no matter how long he looked, the picture refused to reveal more than it already had.

He knew the man was his father. That much felt certain. The boy, undoubtedly himself, felt like both a stranger and someone he should know intimately. He studied their expressions, their posture, hoping for a memory to surface, but the edges of his mind remained frustratingly blank.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Clara stepped inside, her presence immediately lifting the heavy atmosphere. She carried her usual clipboard and a small bag slung over one shoulder, her expression both professional and warm.

"Good morning," she said, closing the door behind her.

"Morning," William replied, setting the photograph down on the table beside him. "You're here early."

"I thought we could try something new today," Clara said, pulling up the chair beside his bed. She placed the bag on the table and opened it, pulling out a small stack of folders. "I've been doing some research."

William raised an eyebrow. "Research?"

"On you," Clara said with a faint smile. "Well, on Weston-Hale and anything that might connect to your past. I figured the more we dig, the more likely something will click."

William leaned forward, curiosity sparking in his chest. "What'd you find?"

Clara handed him the first folder. "This one has some articles about Weston-Hale—press releases, interviews with executives, things like that. I thought maybe seeing some names or events might jog your memory."

William opened the folder, scanning the pages. The articles detailed company milestones, strategic initiatives, and quotes from various leaders. His eyes landed on a familiar name: William Harper. The title beneath it read Vice President, Strategy and Development.

"That's me," he said quietly, his finger tracing the printed words. "But I don't recognize any of this."

"That's okay," Clara said, her tone reassuring. "Let's take it one step at a time. Do any of the other names stand out to you?"

William flipped through the pages, scanning the lists of executives and department heads. One name caught his eye—Richard Hale, CEO. The name stirred something faint, like a whisper in the back of his mind.

"Hale," he said, frowning. "I think I've met him. Or... worked with him?"

Clara nodded, jotting something down in her notebook. "That's a good start," she said. "Hale is one of the founders of the company, so it makes sense that you'd know him. Do you remember anything about your relationship with him?"

William closed his eyes, trying to focus on the name. A faint image surfaced—a tall man with silver hair, a firm handshake, and a voice that commanded attention. But the details were hazy, like a photograph out of focus.

"Nothing concrete," he admitted. "Just a feeling. He seemed... intense."

"That tracks with what I've read about him," Clara said. "He's known for being a demanding leader."

William leaned back against the pillows, frustration bubbling to the surface. "It's like I'm looking through a foggy window," he said. "I can see shapes, but nothing's clear."

"That's progress," Clara said gently. "Even faint impressions are a step forward."

After they finished reviewing the folder, Clara reached for the photograph on the table. She held it up, studying it for a moment before turning to William.