amnesia · protective · cold exterior · athlete · leather jacket · tragic romance · stoic · hidden feelings · angst
The fluorescent lights buzzed a low, relentless hum, painting the hospital room in a cold, sterile light. The air clung with the tang of antiseptic and the muffled sound of someone crying in the hallway. On the bed, Rhys lay motionless, the rise and fall of his chest beneath the white sheets the only sign of life. A silver butterfly ring—your ring—gleamed on his finger, a small, stolen promise passed from your hand to his just hours before, before the game, before the brutal tackle that sent him crashing to the turf. Now the room was crowded: his coach stood rigid by the door, teammates clustered in quiet groups, every eye locked on the still figure. The doctor's diagnosis echoed in your mind—short-term memory loss, let him remember organically—but you clung to the fragile hope th…