Understanding Her

“They won't assume that,” Justin assured her. “I'm responsible for overseeing your treatment, and I'll explain what's happening to the medical team. We'll arrange the necessary tests and check whether there are any other problems.”

Lucy lowered her head. The lie was becoming easier because Justin was giving her the words she needed. To everyone here, Isabella Hartley had awakened with amnesia. That would be her story.

A nurse entered carrying a tray and smiled when she saw Isabella sitting upright. “You're awake properly now! That's wonderful news. How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?”

“She's frightened and confused,” Justin answered before Lucy could speak. “She doesn't remember anything. Could you please bring her some water? I'll arrange for the medical team to assist with her assessment.”

The nurse's smile faded into concern. “Of course. Don't worry, Isabella. You've been comatose for a long time. You don't have to remember everything today. Just take things slowly.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said softly. The nurse checked her pulse and adjusted the blanket. “Do you need anything? Something to eat? We can make you comfortable.”

“Some water, please,” Lucy replied. Her throat still felt dry, and speaking had become exhausting. The nurse poured a glass while Justin watched her with quiet concern.

“Small sips,” he reminded her, helping her hold the glass. “You haven't eaten or drunk normally in months. We need to let your body adjust gradually.”

Lucy drank carefully. The ordinary kindness unsettled her more than she expected. These people believed she was Isabella, and nobody suspected that another woman's memories were hidden behind the actress's familiar face.

When the nurse left, Justin reached for the phone on the bedside table. “I'll contact the medical team and arrange some additional examinations. I also want to review your previous records before deciding what we should do next.”

“Do I have to stay here?” Lucy asked. She wanted to leave, find Bryan, and discover what had happened to her original body, but she could not reveal those reasons.

“For now, yes,” Justin replied. “You need observation. I'll monitor your recovery and arrange further checks on your strength, reflexes, and memory. Once I'm satisfied that you're stable, we can discuss when you might go home.”

“Home?” Lucy repeated. She had no idea where Isabella lived, who waited there, or what kind of life the actress had built. “I don't know where home is.”

Justin gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “That's all right. I'll help you with everything. You don't need to worry about your house or your work today.”

“What about my family?” she asked, carefully keeping her voice uncertain. “Have they been here? Do I have parents? Brothers or sisters? I can't remember any of them.”

“Your family knows about your condition,” Justin said. “We'll contact them and explain that you've awakened. But let's first make sure you're medically stable. I don't want to overwhelm you with too many visitors.”

Lucy nodded. She had to learn who Isabella's family were, what they expected, and how the actress normally behaved. Every answer Justin gave her could become useful later.

Justin stood and straightened his coat. “I'll be back shortly. I need to update the medical team and review your records. Please don't try getting out of bed without assistance.”

“I won't,” Lucy promised. “Thank you, Justin. I'm sorry I can't remember you, but I'm grateful you're here.” She made herself offer him a small, uncertain smile.

He bent down and kissed her forehead again. “You don't have to remember me today. Just get better. I'll be right outside if you need anything.”

When the door closed behind him, Lucy slowly released the breath she had been holding. Her hands trembled beneath the blanket, but she forced herself to remain still.

She glanced around the room, noticing the expensive flowers, designer handbag, and carefully arranged personal belongings. Isabella had a life here, and Lucy needed to understand every part of it.

Her eyes settled on the phone beside the flowers. It might contain photographs, messages, appointments, and names. It could tell her who Isabella was without forcing her to ask Justin questions.

Lucy reached for it, then stopped. She did not know the password, and searching through another woman's private life could create problems if somebody returned unexpectedly. She needed patience.

The door opened again, and Justin returned with a folder. Lucy quickly placed both hands on the blanket and arranged her face into the same frightened expression.

“Isabella, I've reviewed your previous medical records,” Justin said, taking the chair beside her bed. “I'll continue overseeing your treatment, but I want a few specialists to examine you as well. We need to understand how your body is responding after the coma.”

“Does that mean something is wrong with me?” Lucy asked.

“Not necessarily,” he replied. “I don't want you worrying before we have the results. You've only just awakened, and we need to take things one step at a time.”

Lucy nodded. She was relieved that he had not discovered anything unusual, but she knew she could not remain in the hospital forever. Eventually, she would have to face Isabella's world.

Justin reached for her hand again. “I'll be here throughout the process. You can trust me, Isabella. I won't leave you to deal with this alone.”

Lucy managed another weak smile. “Thank you. I just hope I can remember the people who matter to me.” Inside, one name filled her thoughts: Bryan.

She could not tell Justin that her son was somewhere outside this hospital, living with a man who had abandoned them. She could not even ask whether Lucy Hart was alive.

For now, she was Isabella Hartley, the actress who had awakened after months in a coma and could remember nothing. She would play that role until she found a way home to her son most importantly.

Justin finally stood to leave, but before reaching the door, he turned around. His expression softened as he looked at the woman he had waited months to see awake.

“Isabella,” he said quietly, “there's something I need you to tell me. Do you really not remember anything about us?”