?Chapter 1448:


    Chris’s gaze swept over Maia — sharp and precise, like a scientist observing a critical new development. When he noticed her hand resting against his, he instinctively pulled back.


    Perhaps it was the weight of his gaze, or the absence of his warmth leaving her hand, but Maia’s eyshes fluttered and slowly lifted. She looked up, and her vision collided with his — dark, unreadable, yet utterly maic. Their eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to freeze.


    “Chris…” Her voice was rough from sleep, but beneath the hoarseness shone an overwhelming joy — pure, desperate, ecstatic at seeing him alive, at reiming what she had thought was lost. “You’re awake… you’re really awake!”


    Her excitement spilled over, leaving her words tangled and breathless. Instinctively, she reached for his face, as if touch alone could prove he was truly there.


    But Chris’s reaction stopped her cold.


    He remained perfectly still, his expression unreadable. No flicker of relief, no warmth at their reunion, no softness born from everything they had endured together — only a cold, almost clinical politeness that sent a chill straight through her.


    “Thank you for taking care of me,” he said. His voice was weak yet distant, as though a ss wall stood between them. “Miss Watson.”


    Maia’s heart plummeted.


    His words were colder than the harshest winter wind, yanking her from the heights of hope and dropping her into an icy, bottomless void. Chris had never called her that. Not once. He had always said “honey.” The echo of it rang sharply in her memory — his voice, soft and familiar. And she had never once said it back.


    Her smile froze. Pain gripped her chest like an invisible fist, making it hard to breathe.


    “Miss Watson? Are you unwell? Should I call a doctor?” Chris asked, his tone calm, his expression puzzled.


    “Miss Watson?” Maia repeated, her voice trembling, her eyes reddening instantly. “You… you really don’t remember me?”


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    Chris’s frown was slight but deliberate, as though he were digging through locked memory. Seconds passed. Then he nodded — terrifyinglyposed.


    “I remember you. We registered our marriage. You are my legal wife.” His voice was crisp, every word delivered with the detached rity of someone reading from a document rather than speaking from the heart. “I haven’t forgotten what you said the day we registered either. You told me, ‘I’ll keep my end of the bargain, Mr. Cooper. Once Zoey’s request is fulfilled, I won’t stick around. I’ll file for divorce right after.''”


    He paused, his gaze dropping briefly to Maia’s tear-filled eyes, a flicker of confusion — and stark rationality — passing across his face. “But even knowing all of this… it feels strange. I know who you are, I know what happened between us, yet it all feels like a dream I can’t quite wake from.” He touched his temple lightly. “In my memory, the images of you are washed out. The emotions, the colors — gone.”


    His tone remained t, indifferent. “And I cannot remember why I agreed to marry you in the first ce. Even if Aunt Zoey rmended you, it doesn’t make sense to me that I agreed.” He met her eyes, his gaze earnest yet unsettlingly calm. “Do you know why? I don’t. I truly don’t. But I won’t deceive you — there is someone I care for. Someone I have been searching for.”


    Maia went still. Her world seemed to fracture around her.


    She would have preferred he had lost his memory entirely. At least then, she could have started over. But now he remembered everything — and yet denied the very foundation of their story. He had turned her from the woman he loved into nothing more than a name.


    “How could this happen…” she murmured, tears finally spilling over.


    “You have someone you care for?” she whispered, her voice barely holding. “Then why… why did you marry me?”


    Chris tilted his head, his expression calm yet distant. “I wish I knew. I’m sorry. But I cannot lie to you. Once I leave the hospital, I’ll exin everything to Aunt Zoey and do whatever it takes to make things right.” His voice was sincere, even gentle. “In my memory, you are one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. But I cannot deceive you. I want to find the girl from my past.”


    Chris had not lost his memory entirely. But the nightmare had fractured something — he now separated the Maia standing before him from the young girl who had once lifted the lid of that trash can, treating them as two different people. He could not remember that face, nor the words spoken in that dark alley. Only a faint, uncertain name lingered at the edges of his mind. The girl’s surname had been Morgan — or something close to it. Certainly not Watson.


    Then the ICU doors swung open, breaking the fragile silence.


    Carsen entered with his team for morning rounds. Relief crossed his face at the sight of Chris awake — but the scene before him brought him to an uneasy halt. He nced at Maia, tear-streaked and pale, then at Chris, distant and impassive. A chill ran down his spine.


    Something was terribly wrong.


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