I smiled faintly and gently pushed her away. “Please, keep your distance, miss. We’re just neighbors. You wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea, would you?”
She froze, puzzled by my reaction.
In private, I had always called her affectionate names like honey or babe. But now, the cold detachment of miss was the only title I deemed fit for her. She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could persist, a doctor entered the room for rounds, forcing her to retreat into her indifferent facade.
Before leaving, she still managed to offer a polite, almost rehearsed reminder.
“Rest well. Sometimes, neighbors are closer than family. Call me if you need anything.”
The doctor, noticing my strained smile, quipped with a chuckle, “Is your neighbor trying to win your heart? She’s too good at acting indifferent—makes you seem like you’re no one to her.”
The sting of his casual remark shattered any illusion I had tried to maintain. The truth behind his words cut deeply, unraveling the facade I had desperately clung to.
Odessa had always been a masterful actress. If the doctor hadn’t walked in, her performance would have gone unnoticed. For five years, she had kept our relationship a closely guarded secret. Every time I suggested we go public, she would artfully dodge the conversation with excuses—claims about timing, her career, or some other convenient reason. Each excuse chipped away at my confidence, leaving me to compromise again and again. Eventually, I questioned what I truly meant to her, even in my dreams.
Now, I had my answer. When she thought I’d lost my memory, she revealed her true feelings. To her, I was just a neighbor.
Thankfully, my injuries from the fall weren’t severe, and after three days of observation, the doctor discharged me. The hospital refunded the extra payments Odessa had made, and without hesitation, I transferred the amount back to her account.
Three days of silence passed before she finally called.
“You didn’t tell me you were getting discharged!” Her tone carried a hint of reproach. “I’ve been busy with work and couldn’t pick you up. The house is a mess, so stay at a hotel for now. I’ll send someone to clean up before bringing you home.”
“Okay,” I replied, swallowing the bitter urge to confront her.
But her location betrayed her words. She was at home, and in the background, a man’s voice echoed.
“Why isn’t the hot water running?”