Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Hannah’s POV

​The boat ride back from Nicole’s was quieter than the ride there. The sun was setting, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges, and for the first time, Luke didn't look like a survivor or a patient. He looked like he belonged here, sitting on the edge of the boat with the wind catching his blonde hair.

​"Your friends are... high energy," Luke said, breaking the silence. He was wearing my oversized sweatshirt again, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

​"That's one way to put it," I laughed. "I'm sorry about Nicole. She doesn't really understand the concept of personal space."

​"It's okay. It’s actually nice to see people who are so... unfiltered. I have a feeling that wherever I came from, people weren't that honest." He looked out at the water, his expression turning thoughtful. "Hannah, do you ever feel like you're waiting for something to happen, but you don't know if it'll be good or bad?"

​I sat closer to him. "Every day. I'm moving to Manila soon, remember? I'm terrified that I'll get there and realize I’m just a small-town girl with big dreams and no talent."

​Luke turned to me, his gaze intense and steady. "I don't know much about the world right now, but I know talent when I see it. The way you tell stories, the way you care for people... Manila would be lucky to have you."

​I felt that heat in my cheeks again, the one Ashton kept teasing me about. Before I could respond, the boat hit the shore of our island.

​The next few weeks passed in a beautiful, blurred haze. Luke didn't need his crutches anymore. He started helping my father on the farm, and to everyone's surprise, the "city boy" was actually a hard worker. He was stronger than he looked.

​One afternoon, I found him standing by the old well behind our house, staring at a small piece of metal he’d found in the dirt.

​"Everything okay?" I asked.

​"I keep having these flashes," he whispered, not looking up. "Not memories, exactly. Just sounds. Phones ringing, people arguing about percentages, the sound of a heavy glass door closing. It feels cold, Hannah. Nothing like the warmth here."

​I reached out and took his hand. His skin was tanned now, his palms slightly calloused from helping my dad. "Maybe your brain is trying to tell you that you were someone important."

​"I don't want to be 'important' if it means being cold," he said, squeezing my hand back. He stepped closer, the space between us disappearing. The air felt thick, charged with a tension that had been building since the moment I put his head on my lap in that rescue boat.

​"Hannah..." he started, his voice dropping to a low vibrate.

​"Yeah?"

​"If I never remember... if I just stay Luke the islander... would that be enough for you?"

​My heart was drumming against my ribs. I knew my answer. I knew I was falling for a man who was technically a stranger, but whose soul felt more familiar to me than anyone I’d ever met.

​"You've always been enough," I breathed.

​He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. I could smell the sea salt and the scent of my own laundry detergent on him. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, a loud, mechanical thrumming sound began to vibrate through the air.

​It wasn't a crash this time.

​We both looked up. Three black helicopters were hovering over our island, their blades kicking up a storm of dust and sand. They weren't looking for a crash site. They were circling us.

​"Luke!" Ashton came running from the direction of the shore, his face pale. "Hannah, get inside! There are men in suits landing on the beach. They have guns, and they’re asking for a 'Mr. Cromwell'."

​Luke stiffened beside me. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp clarity that frightened me. He let go of my hand, his posture straightening as if a switch had been flipped.

​"Cromwell," Luke repeated, the name sounding heavy and bitter on his tongue.

​The paradise was over. The "Arrogant CEO" was being summoned back to his throne.

The wind from the helicopter blades was deafening, flattening the tall grass around us. Three men in crisp, dark suits approached. They didn't look like doctors or rescuers; they looked like soldiers in expensive clothing. One of them, an older man with a sharp gaze, stepped forward and bowed slightly toward Luke.

​"Mr. Cromwell," the man said, his voice projecting over the roar of the engines. "We have been searching for you everywhere. We need to get you back to Manila immediately."

​Luke looked at me, then back at the man. He looked lost, the "CEO" spark that had flickered for a second fading back into confusion. "Who are you? How do you know me?"

​"We are your family's associates, sir," the man replied smoothly, his tone professional yet devoid of warmth. He looked around at our humble house and then at my father, who had come out holding a shovel, looking wary. "We are grateful to these people for keeping you alive, but your injuries—especially the head trauma—require specialized therapy and neuro-specialists that can only be found in the city."

​"Therapy?" I whispered, my heart sinking.

​"Yes," the man turned to me, his eyes cold and dismissive. "He has been through a traumatic event. The longer he stays here without professional medical intervention, the more permanent his memory loss might become. If you truly care for his well-being, you’ll understand that he needs to leave right now."

​Ashton stepped up beside me. "He’s right, Hannah. I’ve done what I can, but I’m just a student. He needs real doctors."

​Luke looked torn. He reached out and grabbed my hand one last time, his grip tight and desperate. "I don't want to forget this," he whispered, gesturing to the island, to the shore, and finally, to me. "I don't want to forget you."

​"Go, Luke," I said, the words catching in my throat. Tears were already blurring my vision. "Get better. Get your life back. I'll be in Manila in a few months anyway... maybe I'll find you then?"

​He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I'll find you first. I promise."

​The men didn't give us another moment. They surrounded him, ushering him toward the black helicopter with a clinical efficiency. Luke looked back once as he boarded, his face pale against the dark interior of the cabin.

​And then, they were gone. The silence that followed was louder than the helicopters had been. The dust settled, leaving the island looking exactly as it had before—peaceful, quiet, and suddenly, very empty.

​"Cromwell," my father muttered, looking at the spot where the helicopter had taken off. "That’s a name that carries a lot of weight in the city, Hannah. I don't think he’s just a regular guy."

​"He’s just Luke, Dad," I said, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of the sweatshirt he had just handed back to me. It still smelled like him. "He’s just the guy we saved."

​But deep down, I knew. The way those men looked at him, the way they stood—Luke wasn't just a survivor. He was someone's king. And as I looked at the horizon where the helicopters had disappeared, I realized that the distance between us was now much further than a five-hour boat ride.

​The village didn't return to its usual morning rhythm. Instead, everyone stood at the shore for a long time, staring at the empty blue sky as if waiting for a sign that he might come back.

​"He didn't even get to finish his breakfast," Miriam murmured, her voice sounding small. She was looking at the small couch in our house where Luke had napped just the day before. To her, Luke wasn't a "Cromwell"; he was just another mouth to feed, another son to worry about.

​Ashton was the quietest of all. He went back to the shore and sat on the white sand, the same spot where he and Luke had sat for hours talking about nothing and everything. I walked over and sat beside him, the silence between us echoing the void Luke had left behind.

​"It feels like we just hallucinated him, doesn't it?" Ash asked, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Like he was a ghost that washed up on our shore and finally found his way back to the graveyard."

​"He's not a ghost, Ash. He's real. He's in Manila," I said, though I was trying to convince myself as much as him.

​"Those men, Hannah... did you see how they treated him? Like he was a piece of glass they were afraid to break, but also like an object they owned. That wasn't just 'therapy' waiting for him. That was a kingdom." Ash looked at me, his expression grim. "I'm a nursing student, I know when someone needs a doctor. But those men looked like they were taking him back to a war."

​My father didn't say much, but I saw him looking at the farm where Luke had helped him clear the brush. He picked up the tools Luke had used and cleaned them with a slow, deliberate care before putting them away in the shed. Even the neighborhood kids were quiet; they didn't have the tall blonde man to chase around or ask for stories he couldn't remember.

​For the next few weeks, the island felt like it was in mourning. We went through the motions—fishing, farming, cooking—but there was a "Luke-sized" hole in everything we did. Every time a boat approached the shore, my heart would skip a beat, foolishly hoping it was a messenger or a letter. But there was nothing. No calls, no thank-you notes, no sign that the "Cromwell" family remembered the small island that had saved their heir.

​"He’s busy, Hannah," my mother told me one night as she saw me staring at the old sweatshirt Luke had worn. "He’s recovering. Therapy takes time."

​I nodded, but I knew better. The way those men had looked at us—at our simple clothes and our small houses—told me everything I needed to know. To them, we were just a footnote in Luke’s medical history. A temporary stop.

​The emptiness on the island didn't fade; it just became a part of the landscape. It pushed me, though. It turned my sadness into a quiet, burning determination. I stopped staring at the horizon and started packing my bags.

​If Luke couldn't come back to the island, then I would go to him. Not as the girl who saved him, but as the filmmaker I promised I would become. I had one month left before my flight to Manila.

​I wasn't just going there for a dream anymore. I was going there to find out if "Island Luke" still existed somewhere behind that powerful name.