My Brother Hated Me, And I Faked Amnesia

Maya

Consciousness emerged slowly from darkness, like swimming up from the depths of the ocean toward the surface.

I could feel the weight of my eyelids and the sharp smell of antiseptic invading my nostrils.

My head hurt so badly.

I struggled to open my eyes, the harsh light forcing me to squint as I adjusted. The fluorescent tubes on the ceiling hummed steadily, while the cardiac monitor beside me beeped rhythmically.

I was in a hospital.

"She's awake! She's awake!" An unfamiliar woman's voice rang out beside me, filled with excitement.

I turned my head to see a middle-aged woman in pink scrubs pressing the call button with enthusiasm. Her face was lit up with surprise, as if my awakening was some kind of miracle.

"Get Dr. Martinez, quick!" she called toward the doorway, then turned to me with a professionally warm smile. "Honey, how are you feeling?"

I tried to speak but found my throat as dry as sandpaper. The nurse immediately handed me a cup of water, and I carefully took a few sips to moisten my cracked lips.

"Where... where am I?" My voice was so hoarse I barely recognized it.

"Los Angeles Medical Center, honey. You were in a car accident and have been unconscious for three days." The nurse checked various monitors as she spoke. "It's wonderful that you're finally awake."

Car accident. Memories flooded back like a tidal wave—blinding headlights, the screech of brakes, then darkness. I remembered that moment of terror, remembered the last person I thought of before losing consciousness... Ryan, my brother.

Just then, a middle-aged man in a white coat walked in. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a kind face.

"I'm Dr. Martinez." He pulled out a small flashlight to check my pupil response. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Maya. Maya Swift," I answered truthfully.

The doctor nodded, making notes on my chart. "Good. Do you remember today's date? Where you live?"

I thought for a moment and gave the correct date and address. The doctor's face showed satisfaction.

"Your memory seems largely intact, though you might experience some minor amnesia." He set down his pen with a relaxed tone. "That's quite common with head trauma patients and usually resolves on its own. We'll still need your family to confirm some details, though."

Family. My heart suddenly raced.

"They've been notified and should be here any minute," the nurse added.

Amnesia. The word echoed in my mind. Strangely, I remembered every detail of my past—including those I'd rather forget.

But the doctor's words gave me an idea, one that might change everything.

I lowered my head, pretending to struggle with my memories while actually thinking about the person who would soon arrive.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, growing closer. My heartbeat accelerated, my palms sweating. Even through the closed door, I could sense that familiar presence approaching.

The door opened.

The silhouette standing in the doorway, backlit, nearly stopped my breathing. Even without seeing his expression clearly, I instantly recognized that outline—the one that had occupied a place in my heart for twenty years.

"Bro?" My voice was as light as a feather, but in the quiet room, it sounded crystal clear.

His body visibly stiffened. When he stepped into the room and the light illuminated his face, I saw pain and... anger? flash across those eyes that were once as gentle as still water.

"I'm not your brother." His voice was as cold as a winter blade, each word precisely piercing my heart. "Don't call me that."

The air in the room instantly froze. The nurse and doctor stood stunned, clearly not expecting such a scene. I felt the blood drain from my face, my fingers beginning to tremble.

"But... but I remember..." I deliberately made my voice sound confused and fragile, while inside my heart was bleeding.

"Remember what?" Ryan's tone grew even colder. He didn't even step forward, just stood by the door as if I were some dangerous virus. "You're mistaken."

Just then, another set of footsteps sounded in the hallway. Ryan suddenly pointed toward the door, his voice carrying a cruel certainty: "That's your brother."

Following his finger, I saw a young man slowly walking past with an IV stand. He had delicate features and looked somewhat younger than Ryan. He was now looking in our direction with confusion.

I was too shocked to speak. Not because Ryan's identification was absurd, but because he could be so cruel as to tell such a lie.

He knew the truth perfectly well, knew the relationship between us, yet chose to sever our connection in this brutal way.

"Get it straight," Ryan's voice broke the silence, cold and emotionless. "Stop bothering me."

He turned to leave without a hint of attachment, not even glancing back at me.

"Wait..." I tried to call after him, but the words caught in my throat.

Ryan paused briefly at the doorway but ultimately walked away. Just like that—no explanation, no comfort, nothing. He vanished down the hallway like a complete stranger.

The young man stood in the doorway, his face filled with confusion. He looked at Ryan's retreating figure, then at me in the hospital bed, clearly not understanding what was happening.

The nurse and doctor exchanged awkward glances. The doctor cleared his throat: "Perhaps it's... the amnesia symptoms, memory confusion..."

"No." I suddenly spoke, my voice calmer than I expected. "I remember now."

I looked at the innocent man who had been unwittingly drawn into this absurd drama. His eyes held a gentleness that Ryan's never had. Perhaps this was fate's design.

The man hesitated, then slowly approached the bed. When he saw the tears in my eyes, his natural kindness prompted him to say softly, "Come on, sis. Let's go home."

Sister. This term of endearment from a stranger's lips felt warmer than the coldness I'd received from Ryan.

I took one last look at the doorway, now empty. Ryan had truly gone, just as he said, completely disappearing from my life.

"Okay," I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's go home."

He gently helped me up, his movements careful, afraid of causing me pain. This unfamiliar care made me both grateful and heartbroken.

As we left the hospital room, I didn't look back.

Some paths, once you start down them, don't allow for return. And some people, once lost, are gone forever.

I knew that from this day forward, my world had fundamentally changed.

Ryan had severed all connections between us in the cruelest way possible, and I would now begin a new life within this forced lie.