Winifred Dawson pointed to the lush green tree outside the hospital window and asked, “What kind of flowers are those?”
Garrison Reeves followed her gaze. “Those are camellias.”
Camellias triggered fragmented memories in her mind, and she froze for a moment.
“Why? Do you like camellias?” Garrison asked.
Winifred shook her head, feeling a pang of sadness. It wasn’t that she liked camellias; it was just that they were the most familiar flowers in her memory.
“Are camellias beautiful?”
Garrison didn’t understand why Winifred suddenly asked about camellias. He thought she might have remembered something. “Winifred, did you remember something?”
Winifred shook her head again.
Seeing that she hadn’t remembered anything in the past, Garrison sighed in relief. It was better this way.
He sat by the bed, holding Winifred’s soft hand. “Camellias are quite beautiful. If you’re interested, we can plant some at home. I’ll show you pictures of them in bloom…”
It was December, past the blooming season for camellias. Garrison searched online for pictures of camellias. When the images appeared, so did the meanings associated with them.
Different colors of camellias represented different flower meanings, one of which was cautious love, also known as ideal love.
“I give you camellias; how can you underestimate my love for you?”
“I give you camellias; how can you underestimate my love for you?” Winifred unconsciously murmured these words as they suddenly surfaced in her mind. She spoke in a voice barely audible, but Garrison heard her.
“What did you just say?”
“The meaning of camellias,” Winifred replied, surprised that she knew this phrase. It felt as if it had been buried deep in her heart and seeing the camellias had unlocked it.
But deeper memories felt like being hidden in dark corners beyond reach. Trying to recall it gave her a headache.
Garrison noticed her discomfort immediately and caught her as she collapsed.
He was about to call for a doctor when Winifred covered his mouth. “I’m fine… I’m just a bit tired. A nap will make it better… Just a nap…”
She closed her eyes, and her rapid breathing gradually calmed down. It was clear this wasn’t the first time she’d experienced this; she’d grown accustomed to sleeping through mental stress.
Had she been like this during those five years she disappeared? Suffering alone, enduring alone, comforting herself alone…
Garrison still called the doctors: the plastic surgeon, the psychologist, and Dr. Smith, who had been treating Winifred. After examining her condition and discussing it among themselves, they concluded that she was temporarily fine.
Dr. Smith said, “Miss Dawson is experiencing significant emotional fluctuations. Her mental state was already poor, and the plastic surgery has further stimulated her brain. This situation can be managed with medication, but she’s been taking too many drugs lately. This is bad for her health. We’ll need to prescribe something more suitable based on her current condition.”
The psychologist added, “You need to spend more time with Miss Dawson. People with psychological issues need company and distractions.”
The three doctors told him the same thing. Winifred was not in serious condition, but her complete recovery would take time.
Garrison felt a headache coming on. He had been accompanying Winifred most of the time since her plastic surgery. He even moved his work computer to the hospital room and had his assistant run between the office and the hospital with documents for him to sign. He had postponed several important deals worth billions just to stay with her.
“What concerns me now, Dr. Smith, is if she can regain her memory.”
Dr. Smith hesitated before asking what he really wanted to know, “Mr. Reeves, do you want Miss Dawson to regain her memory or not?”
“No,” he replied firmly. “Given her current physical condition, she’s not fit to recover those memories.” Whether out of concern or selfishness, it was true that now wasn’t the right time for Winifred to regain her memory.
Dr. Smith exchanged a glance with the psychologist before saying, “Given Miss Dawson’s condition, she’s naturally resistant to those memories. Recovering them would be difficult but not impossible. The brain is complex. Her reaction now is partly due to memory loss. Her brain’s stress response to those once-familiar things will trigger her fragmented memories.”
So there was still a chance that familiar things could stimulate Winifred’s brain and help recover her memories.
Familiar things… Things significant enough to impact the brain must have been important in her memory.
Garrison looked at the camellia tree outside the hospital window with darkened eyes.
Why did Winifred care that much about camellias?
She showed no reaction upon seeing him but was affected by seeing that camellia tree outside.
Was it because of the camellia itself or someone associated with it?
He remembered that Winifred loved roses but was allergic to their pollen.
She used to say that what you can’t have is always the best.
Despite being allergic to roses, she still loved them.
But now, instead of roses, she cared about ordinary camellias.
Leland’s face suddenly flashed in his mind. Garrison clenched his fists tightly until his knuckles turned white and felt a suffocating bitterness in his throat as if he had inhaled smoke.
His grim expression didn’t go unnoticed by the doctors and nurses present.
They all kept as quiet as they could, even breathing with caution. Dr. Smith wondered if he had said something offensive to bring Garrison’s mood down.
“Mr. Reeves…”
Garrison snapped out of it and relaxed his fists. “What is it?”
“Nothing… Do you have any other questions? If not, we’ll leave now.”
Garrison remained silent without dismissing them.
Just as everyone grew restless, Garrison rasped out a question, “Can memories be altered?”
The psychologist asked back, “Are you referring to Miss Dawson? She’s already lost her memory. What memory changes do you want in her? Her current state is already poor enough; I think it’s best not to interfere too much with her brain functions. Let things take their course. Whether she remembers it or not is fine. Just let it be.”