Chapter 2 The audacity

May did not sleep.

Not for a minute, not even when exhaustion pressed heavily behind her eyes. She sat stiffly in one of the hard plastic chairs outside the operating theatre, fingers laced together in her lap, heels abandoned somewhere under the seat. The hospital lights were too bright, too white, and the smell of antiseptic clung to her skin like an accusation.

This was ridiculous, she told herself repeatedly.

She did not wait for strangers. She did not sit in hospitals at ungodly hours worrying about men she had run into...literally. Yet there she was, eyes fixed on the red light above the surgery door, heart beating far too fast for someone who claimed indifference.

Time dragged, stretching painfully. Nurses passed. Doctors spoke in low voices. Morning crept in quietly, light slipping through the windows as if afraid to disturb the tension hanging in the air.

When the doors finally opened, May stood so quickly the chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"He's stable," the doctor said calmly, adjusting his glasses. "We managed to stop the internal bleeding. He's lucky."

Lucky. The word felt strange.

She followed them into the room, arms crossed tightly as if holding herself together. The man lay still on the bed, pale, bruised, bandaged, yet unmistakably the same irritating stranger from the airport. His lashes fluttered faintly as consciousness returned.

The doctor leaned forward. "Can you hear me?"

Slowly, the man's eyes opened.

They were sharp even now, unsettlingly clear despite the confusion swimming within them. He looked around the room like someone waking in the wrong life.

"Do you remember your name?" the doctor asked.

A pause. His brows furrowed slightly, jaw tightening as though he were digging through something just out of reach.

"Luca," he said hoarsely.

May's breath caught before she could stop it.

"Your full name?" the doctor pressed.

He shook his head faintly. "Just...Luca."

"Do you remember anything else?" the doctor asked gently. "Family, where you live, what happened?"

Silence stretched. Luca's fingers curled against the sheets.

"No," he said finally. "Nothing."

The doctor straightened. "You have retrograde amnesia, likely caused by trauma from the accident. Memories may return gradually...or not at all."

May's jaw tightened.

She stayed.

Through the morning. Through the slow drip of IV fluids, the nurses checking vitals, Luca drifting in and out of sleep. She stayed even when the sun climbed higher, when her phone buzzed endlessly with notifications she ignored.

By afternoon, the doctor returned. "Physically, he's strong enough to be discharged. He'll need rest, supervision, and follow-up visits."

May nodded absently.

She stepped outside and dialed her phone. "Pete...clear my schedule today and tomorrow. Bring clothes...comfortable ones. Men's. Hospital."

There was a pause. "May, what..."

"Please," she said sharply. "Now."

Pete arrived and Luca went in to change. He was dressed in clothes that didn't belong to him yet fit well enough. He stood awkwardly near the bed, watching her with curiosity that made her uncomfortable.

She handed him some cash. "This should get you home...wherever that is."

He stared at the money, then at her, brows lifting slightly. "You're leaving me?"

"I've done more than enough," she replied coolly. "The hospital will help you find shelter."

Luca stepped closer suddenly, close enough that she could see the faint scar along his jaw.

"Did you forget something?" he asked.

She frowned. "What exactly would that be?"

He tilted his head slightly. "I have amnesia."

She laughed, the sound sharp, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"You caused it," he said calmly. "You hit me with your car. That makes you responsible...until the end."

Her eyes widened. "The audacity."

"You're welcome," he replied mildly.

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. "You are incredibly lucky," she said tightly, turning on her heel.

And yet...she didn't walk away.

Her house was silent when they arrived.

Large, elegant, gated, everything anyone would expect from May Boston, except the inside told a different story. Shoes by the door. A jacket draped carelessly over a chair. Papers stacked where they didn't belong. The kind of mess no one ever saw because no one was ever invited in.

She lived alone...and it showed.

Luca looked around slowly, taking everything in with quiet interest. "Nice place."

"Don't get comfortable," she replied. "This is temporary."

He walked to the living room and sat, crossing his leg casually, like a man entirely at ease in a stranger's home.

"I'm thirsty," he said. "Get me water."

She snapped. "Are you insane?"

He looked at her, genuinely puzzled. "You brought me here."

"That does not make me your assistant."

"But you are responsible," he said, unbothered.

Her glare could have melted steel.

She turned sharply toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath, already regretting every decision she had made since the night before.

And somehow, she knew...this was only the beginning.