Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 283

Dave pov

“To make the life she has now feel safe enough for her brain to recover.”

For some reason, that sentence stayed with me.

Maybe because it was the first thing anyone had said since yesterday that didn’t feel like we were waiting for something.

We weren’t waiting for Lydia to magically wake up and become herself again.

We had to meet whatever version of her existed right now.

Dr. Sana checked her phone.

“I should get going.”

Anna nodded.

“Thank you, Dr. Sana.”

“Of course.”

I followed her toward the hospital entrance.

Outside, the afternoon air hit my face, and for the first time in hours, I realized I hadn’t eaten anything substantial.

Not that I cared.

Dr. Sana stopped beside her car.

“Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Be patient with her.”

I smiled bitterly.

“That’s easier said than done.”

“I know.”

She opened her car door.

“But don’t mistake the fact that she doesn’t remember you for the fact that you don’t matter.”

I looked at her.

That was a strange thing to say.

Because right now, it felt like I didn’t matter at all.

She gave me one last reassuring smile before getting into her car.

I stood there until she drove away.

Then I went back inside.

Anna was already heading toward the ward.

“I’ll go check on the kids,” she said. “You go see Lydia.”

I nodded.

And suddenly, walking into that room felt like the hardest thing I had done all day.

Still, I went.

When I entered, Lydia was awake.

She was sitting slightly upright against the pillows, looking considerably more alert than she had earlier.

Her eyes immediately moved to me.

There was still confusion there.

That same confusion.

That same look people gave strangers who had somehow entered the wrong room.

I stood there awkwardly for a second.

“Hi.”

She stared.

“Hi.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets.

“I’m, um…”

I paused.

What was I supposed to say?

Hi, I’m the man you married.

Hi, I’m the father of the children you don’t remember having.

Hi, I’m the person who spent the entire night wondering if you were going to die.

Instead, I pointed toward the chair.

“I’m the father of those kids.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Okay.”

“Or, technically, I’m the guy who came in here with those kids.”

She gave me a look.

“That’s a very strange introduction.”

“I know.”

I walked closer.

“You left your phone here.”

I picked it up from the side table.

“I don’t know why you did that.”

I held it out.

She took it.

“Thank you.”

There was a silence.

I looked at her.

She looked at me.

And I realized I had no idea how to talk to my own wife.

Ex-wife.

Whatever.

“Um, Lydia.”

“Yes?”

“I know this is hard for you to believe.”

She didn’t say anything.

“And I know that from your perspective, everyone is just coming in here claiming things about you that don’t make sense.”

She nodded.

“Exactly.”

“But those two children are yours.”

Her face remained blank.

“They’re twins. Ava and Eli.”

“I heard.”

“And I’m Dave Ashton.”

She looked at me.

“My name is Dave Ashton.”

“I heard you earlier.”

“Right.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

I was suddenly feeling like an idiot.

“I was your husband.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Ex-husband,” I corrected quickly. “Well… technically, yes.”

She stared at me for a few seconds.

“I don’t know that name.”

I laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah.”

I looked down.

“I figured.”

I took a breath.

“You can actually verify everything.”

Her brows pulled together.

“What do you mean?”

“You can get a phone from the nurse. Search your name. Search mine. Search the kids’ names.”

She stared at me.

“You can search Dave Ashton. You can search Lydia…” I paused. “Well, whatever version of your name is online now.”

She gave me the tiniest confused smile.

“I don’t understand.”

“There are articles about you. Interviews. Pictures. Your career.”

“My career?”

“You’re a PR consultant.”

She blinked.

“I’m a what?”

“A very successful PR consultant.”

She actually laughed.

Not because it was funny.

More like she genuinely couldn’t believe what I was saying.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Lydia, the PR goddess?”

I nodded.

“Apparently.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t remember being a PR goddess.”

I almost smiled.

“Yeah. You were apparently pretty good at it.”

“I remember being in college.”

My chest tightened.

“I know.”

“I remember my parents.”

I nodded.

“I remember my sister, Iny.”

“I know.”

“But then…” She frowned. “It’s like there’s nothing.”

I swallowed.

“There’s a lot.”

“I know that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“No.”

I stopped.

“I just…”

I sighed.

“I’ll give you time.”

She nodded.

I turned toward the door.

Then stopped.

“Actually.”

I looked back at her.

“There is one thing.”

I walked toward the side table and picked up my phone.

“I can show you something.”

I opened my gallery.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

There were thousands of pictures.

Her.

Me.

Ava.

Eli.

Us.

Birthdays.

Vacations.

Christmas mornings.

Random Sundays.

The kids covered in pancake batter.

Lydia laughing so hard her eyes had practically disappeared.

Our lives.

An entire life she couldn’t remember.

I turned the phone toward her.

She leaned forward.

Her eyes moved across the screen.

One picture.

Then another.

Then another.

I watched her face carefully.

For the first time since I’d walked into that room, there was something different in her expression.

Not recognition.

Not exactly.

Something closer to searching.

Her eyes stopped on one particular picture.

It was Lydia sitting between Ava and Eli, both children pressed against her, while she smiled at the camera.

She stared.

Longer than she had stared at anything else.

My heart started pounding.

“Do you remember them?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lydia?”

Her fingers slowly moved toward the screen.

She touched Ava’s face.

Then Eli’s.

Her brows furrowed.

I held my breath.

She stared at the photograph for another few seconds.

Then she looked up at me.

“I’m sorry.”

My stomach dropped.

“I don’t remember them.”

She pointed at the picture.

“Any of them.”

And just like that, the tiny hope I’d allowed myself to have disappeared.

But then Lydia looked back at the photograph.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

As if somewhere deep inside her mind, something was trying desperately to open a door that had been locked from the inside.

And for the first time, she didn’t look away.

She just kept staring.

Like she was trying to remember a life that apparently belonged to her.

A life that I knew by heart.

A life she had forgotten completely.