Chapter 6 The Flowers

Sienna's POV

Ryker Cross spent two years making me believe I was his future. Then he paid me to walk away from his life without knowing I was carrying his future.

I sat on the edge of the wide bed and looked around the room. The curtains were open. Soft light came in. Everything felt too large and too quiet.

Knox stood near the doorway with a glass of water. “You should drink something.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“The doctor said small sips through the day.”

I took the glass anyway. The water was cold. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Until you’re stronger. The estate is quieter than the hospital. Better for rest.”

I looked down at the curve of my stomach under the loose dress. “I still don’t remember this place.”

“You will. Or you won’t. Either way you’re safe here.”

I set the glass on the side table. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

A soft knock came at the open door. A young woman in a simple uniform stood there holding a large arrangement of white flowers.

“These just arrived, Dr. Sterling,” she said.

Knox took the vase from her. “Thank you. That will be all.”

The woman left. Knox set the flowers on the low table near the window. I watched him.

“Who sent those?”

He glanced at the small white card tucked between the stems. “Someone from the company you used to work with.”

“Can I see the card?”

He paused for half a second, then handed it to me. I turned it over. One name was printed in clean black letters.

Ryker Cross.

I stared at it. The name sat in my head like a stone dropped into still water. Nothing clear came up, only a tight feeling under my ribs.

“Do I know him?” I asked.

Knox’s voice stayed even. “You worked in the same building for a while. He heard about the accident through office channels. Some people send flowers. It doesn’t mean more than that.”

I kept looking at the card. “The name feels familiar.”

“A lot of names will feel familiar for a while. Your mind is still sorting itself out.”

I set the card on the table beside the vase. “Why does it feel heavier than the others?”

“There are no others. This is the first delivery since you arrived.”

I touched one of the white petals. It was soft and cool. “Did I ever talk about him before the accident?”

Knox pulled a chair closer and sat. “You rarely talked about work once you left the building. We kept home separate.”

“What did I do there?”

“Administrative work. Long hours. You were tired most evenings.”

I rested my hand on my stomach. The baby shifted once, small and definite. “I keep waiting for something to open up in my head. It doesn’t.”

“Give it time.”

“How much time?”

“As much as it needs.”

I looked at him. His face was calm, the same way it had been in the hospital. “You never seem worried.”

“I worry. I just don’t show it to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you already have enough to carry.”

I stood slowly and walked to the window. The garden below was neat and green. A stone path led toward a high wall. “This house feels like it belongs to someone else.”

“It belongs to us.”

“Us,” I repeated. The word still sat strangely in my mouth.

Knox stayed seated. “You can change anything you want. The furniture. The colors. Whatever makes it feel more like yours.”

“I don’t know what mine looks like.”

“Then we find out together.”

I turned back to him. “What if I never remember the last four years?”

“Then we make new ones.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

I walked back to the table and picked up the card again. The name stared up at me. Ryker Cross. Something in my chest pulled tight and then loosened without explanation.

“You’re sure this is only a work acquaintance?”

Knox’s eyes stayed on my face. “I’m sure.”

“He must have known me reasonably well to send flowers this quickly.”

“News travels fast in those buildings. People like to look thoughtful.”

I set the card down a second time. “I want to walk outside later.”

“When the nurse says your blood pressure is steady, yes.”

“You’re always checking with someone else before you answer me.”

“I’m careful with you. That’s different.”

I sat on the edge of the bed again. The mattress was soft. “I feel like I’m borrowing this life.”

“You’re not borrowing it. You’re living it.”

“It doesn’t feel that way yet.”

Knox leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It will. Or it won’t. Either way I’m here.”

I looked at the flowers again. White. Clean. Almost too perfect for the uneasy feeling they left behind.

“Will more people send things?”

“Possibly. I’ll screen them if you want.”

“No. I want to see them.”

He nodded once. “All right.”

Silence settled for a moment. The house was quiet in a way that felt expensive. No street noise. No voices.

I touched the card with one finger. “Say the name again.”

“Ryker Cross.”

I waited. Nothing clear arrived, only that same low pull.

“It bothers me,” I said.

“What does?”

“That I can’t place it. Everything else is fog. This one feels like it should cut through.”

Knox stood and came closer. He rested a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Your mind is healing. Some things will surface. Some won’t. Don’t force it.”

I looked up at him. “And if it does surface?”

“Then we deal with whatever comes.”

His hand stayed steady. The flowers sat on the table behind him, white against the dark wood. The card with the single name lay face up where I had left it.

I kept staring at those letters, waiting for the fog to thin, while the quiet of the house pressed in around us and the baby shifted once more under my palm.