?Chapter 1561:


    He did remember—faint fragments flickering at the edges of his mind, moments like this one. But he couldn’t be certain whether he had called her that only as part of a performance, or whether those feelings had once been entirely real.


    “Ms. Watson.” Chris drew in a slow, steady breath before speaking again.


    This time the name came out correctly, his voice grave and measured—though inside he felt profoundly uneasy, an odd emptiness settling in his chest. Calling her “honey” or simply “Maia” had felt so instinctive, so right. The jarring mismatch struck him again, sending a faint, nagging ache through his temples.


    In the fragments of memory he could grasp, he had always addressed Maia with effortless affection—even when she pushed him away or gave him the cold shoulder, he had kept calling her “honey.” That feeling had been pure, uplicated happiness.


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    “There are a few things I need us to straighten out,” Chris said, pushing past the growing headache. He refocused on Maia’s clear, luminous eyes, his expression turning earnest and resolute. “Since I woke up from surgery, my memory has been unreliable. Or maybe the problem is me.”


    Maia’s gaze sharpened with sudden hope. He was acknowledging the gaps himself—that was progress, a flicker of self-awareness returning. Carsen had cautioned her that forcing memories back could cause serious harm. But if Chris was the one reaching out, actively seeking rity, surely that changed things.


    His voice cut through again,ced with quiet confusion. “I don’t quite know how to exin it, but seeing you today—I felt like I had to. Like something was pulling me toward you.” He lifted a hand and pressed his fingers to his temple, brows knitting as he spoke with raw honesty. “Maybe talking like this will help me figure out which memories are actually real.”


    “Of course. We can meet whenever you need,” Maia answered, holding his gaze steadily. Her tone was calm and certain. “Ask anything you want. I’ll do my best to help you piece things together—as truthfully as I can.”


    She paused, then reached across the table and gentlyid her hand over his, offering quiet support through the simple contact. “Your surgery was extremelyplicated, Mr. Cooper. Memory difficulties afterward aren’t unusual, but I truly believe you’ll recover. I’ll be here to help however I can.”


    The moment their hands touched, a subtle jolt ran through Chris—like a current traveling from his fingertips straight through his body. Instinctively, he wanted to close his fingers around hers and hold on. Reason barely stopped him.


    Looking at her now—her gaze open, sincere, without a trace of pretense—he thought how remarkable she was. Beautiful, brilliant, fiercely independent, and so genuinely kind. But was any of this fair? He was keeping so much from her. Deep inside, another girl upied a corner of his heart—the one he had sworn to protect since childhood, even though her name and face remained maddeningly out of reach. That lingering obsession refused to fade.


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