Falling For My Accidental CEO Husband-Chapter 253: Aching

She woke up with a pounding headache. Her eyes opened slowly and even as she was only half awake, there was one thought in her mind. She was in a hospital. She turned her head carefully. The walls were all white, and the room was empty. The sterile smell of disinfectant hung in the air, sharp and unwelcoming. She blinked slowly, her vision adjusting to the harsh fluorescent light above her.

Her throat felt dry, scratchy, as though she hadn’t spoken in days. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in her side made her wince and lie back against the thin pillows. A faint beeping sound filled the room, and as she turned her head, she saw a machine by her bedside. Its screen flickered with a green line, rising and falling rhythmically.

"Why am I in a hospital?" she murmured, her voice hoarse and unfamiliar to her own ears.

Panic began to creep in as she scanned the room again, her heart rate quickening as she realized something else. Her fingers instinctively reached for something on her wrist, only to find bare skin. No jewelry. No clues.

Her breathing grew shallow. Her mind searched for something—anything—that could tell her why she was here. But her thoughts felt like sand slipping through her fingers.

The door creaked open, and a woman in scrubs stepped inside, carrying a clipboard. She had kind eyes and a gentle smile, but the sight of her only made her feel more anxious for some reason. As if she was living this all over again.

"Ah, you’re awake," the nurse said softly, stepping closer. She glanced at the monitor and nodded, as though satisfied with what she saw.

"Where am I?" she asked loudly, her voice trembling.

"You’re in St. Mary’s Hospital," the nurse replied, setting the clipboard on the bedside table. "You were brought here a few days ago. Do you remember anything? Your accident?"

The girl stared at her, her lips parting slightly. "No," she whispered. The word hung heavy in the air. "I don’t... I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t even know who I am."

The nurse’s expression softened, though a flicker of concern crossed her face. "It’s okay," she said soothingly. "Sometimes memory loss happens after trauma. We’ll run more tests, and the doctor will be here soon to explain everything. We don’t need to worry much because this has happened in the past as well."

The girl’s brow furrowed. She latched onto the nurse’s words and asked, "What do you mean I’ve suffered something similar before?"

The nurse hesitated, her kind demeanor faltering slightly. She patted the girl’s hand but answered evasively. "The person who brought you here was worried about your head injury. He mentioned you’d had a severe head trauma in the past and thought this might have caused more damage. He mentioned that you’d suffered from amnesia previously as well. It seems his concerns were valid."

The girl’s chest tightened. She’d had amnesia in the past as well? Was that why she was feeling this heaviness over her as if something was terrible wrong? Whoever had brought her here knew her medical history—knew her. And they’d said that she’d suffered amnesia. So, her memories might have returned as well. She clung to that thought like a lifeline and questioned. "Who brought me here?"

The nurse glanced at her pager, without answering her, as it beeped loudly, her face shifting from sympathetic to hurried. She sighed, looking back at the girl apologetically. "I’ll have the doctor come by to take a look at you. As for the man who’s been by your side, he probably went down to stretch his legs. He’ll be back soon. He didn’t leave the hospital once all these days, so he can’t have gone far." With a quick pat on the girl’s arm, she turned and hurried out of the room.

"Wait!" the girl called after her, "At least tell me my name!"

The door clicked shut, leaving her alone again. But she frowned, staring at it, willing the person who had brought her here to come and tell her everything. If the person who had brought her here had not left her side, where did he go now?

However, the more she thought things through, the more her head pounded, with no answers coming through. The pounding in her head felt like a drumbeat, relentless and cruel. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to piece together fragments of memory that simply weren’t there. The harder she tried, the more the pain surged, like shards of glass piercing through her skull.

She gritted her teeth, willing herself to stay calm, to push through the haze. Focus, she told herself. Who am I? Why am I here? But each question only seemed to cause her pain until she was trembling all over from it, making it even difficult for her to keep her eyes open.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening made her flinch.

She forced her eyes open, but her vision was a blur, the harsh fluorescent light blending with the figure standing at the foot of her bed.

"You’re awake," a deep, steady voice said, tinged with relief and something else she couldn’t quite place.

She wanted to answer, to turn her head and see the man more clearly, but the pain intensified, blinding and overwhelming. Her lips parted, but no words came. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and her body refused to cooperate, to even take a proper look at the man.

"Serena?" The man’s voice broke through the pain and even in agony, she could feel the urgency in his voice, "Serena, can you hear me?"

Serena... that was her name? It felt familiar, yet foreign.

er eyelids grew heavy as the pounding in her head became unbearable. The man’s voice grew distant, as though he were speaking from the other end of a tunnel. "Serena, stay with me. Serena!"

Her final thought before the darkness claimed her was a quiet, desperate certainty. Serena. My name is Serena Haw

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