After waking up, he became my only memory.

The hospital corridor was thick with the smell of disinfectant. Nathaniel Sterling, carrying the food he had just bought, paused mid-step. Through the glass pane of the ward door, he could see his mother, Iris Whitfield, inside. Five days ago, a car accident had shattered Iris Whitfield’s consciousness into fragments, her memories wiped clean like a formatted hard drive—utterly blank. After waking, she recognized only Nathaniel Sterling and trusted no one else. Nathaniel Sterling pushed open the door. Iris Whitfield was leaning against the headboard, her gaze clear yet lost—a caged bird’s dependence, and she was completely unaware of it.