CHAPTER 156: HE REMEMBERED EVERYTHING

The soft clatter of shoes echoed just outside the room before the door opened with a gentle knock.

Dr. Harris stepped inside, coat unbuttoned, clipboard in one hand. His eyes immediately found Billy—awake, sitting up a little straighter now, with both Artur and Camila nearby.

"Well," he said, allowing the smallest smile to lift the corners of his mouth. "That’s a sight I’ve been waiting to see."

Billy gave a quiet nod. "Morning, doctor."

Dr. Harris walked closer, setting the clipboard down and pulling on a pair of gloves. He didn’t rush—just scanned Billy’s vitals first, then carefully checked his eyes, movement, and pulse.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital. City side. Room with awful curtains," Billy replied dryly.

Camila chuckled. "Yup. He’s back."

Dr. Harris smiled again, but his expression remained focused. "And do you know who’s sitting beside you?"

Billy turned slightly. His gaze landed on Artur.

"Yeah," he said softly. "That’s Artur."

Artur’s eyes flickered with emotion.

Dr. Harris nodded. "Good. And your full name?"

"Leon Sandoval," Billy answered without pause.

Camila placed a hand over her mouth. Her eyes filled, but she didn’t speak.

"And what do you remember... before the surgery?"

Billy hesitated.

He looked down at his hands, then glanced at Camila—then at Artur.

"I remember... the beach. The waves pulling me. Then waking up with strangers. No—friends. Family. Dand. Mark. Artur."

His voice tightened just slightly.

"I remember who I was. And who I became."

Dr. Harris was quiet for a beat, letting the weight of that answer settle.

Then he gave a calm nod. "That’s a very good sign. We’ll run some tests over the next couple of days to be sure, but—"

He looked at Billy, his eyes kind.

"—you’ve made it through the hardest part."

Billy nodded slowly.

Artur exhaled—deeply, shakily—as if the last thread of tension finally gave way.

Camila wiped her eyes, quickly blinking away tears. "Told you he’s stubborn."

"I’d say resilient," Dr. Harris replied with a chuckle. "Let him rest a bit longer. I’ll be back this afternoon."

He stepped out with a final smile and closed the door behind him.

The room fell into a soft, shared silence.

Billy leaned back against the pillows, glancing at both of them.

"Did I miss anything while I was out?"

Artur smiled faintly.

"Only everything."

Billy reached for his hand again.

"Then let’s start catching up."

The door opened once more. Mrs. Sandoval stepped in—composed, dignified, her heels whispering against the tiles.

She held her bag close to her side, but her steps hesitated just slightly at the threshold.

Her eyes landed on Billy—sitting upright, alert, very much awake.

And her breath caught.

"Leon..." she whispered, as if saying his name out loud would break the spell.

Billy smiled, small and a little shy. "Hi, Mom."

For a moment, he was ten again—bruised knees, her fingers brushing dirt from his face.

She blinked, once, twice—and then crossed the room without another word.

Camila shifted to the side, making space. Artur quietly released Billy’s hand and stood, stepping back with grace. He knew this moment wasn’t his.

Mrs. Sandoval sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly as they reached for her son’s face—cupping it, almost disbelieving.

"You’re awake," she breathed, voice thick with emotion. "You’re really here."

Billy nodded, leaning gently into her touch.

"I’m sorry I scared you," he murmured. "Again."

She shook her head. "No. No apologies. Not now."

A tear escaped before she could stop it. She wiped it quickly, as though embarrassed—but Billy reached up and touched her hand.

"It’s okay," he said softly. "You can cry. I did."

She laughed under her breath, a short and broken sound.

"I don’t cry," she whispered, teasing but honest.

Camila gave a teary smile. "That’s what she says every time she cries."

They all chuckled quietly together. For a moment, it felt like time softened—like nothing else existed but the warmth between them.

Mrs. Sandoval composed herself slowly, brushing his hair back gently. "You gave us a hard time, Leon. But you’re strong. You always were."

He looked at her, more carefully this time.

"I remember... some things. More now. And I think I understand you better."

Her eyes shimmered.

"We’ll talk, when you’re ready," she said. "And I’ll listen."

Billy nodded.

"Thank you... for not giving up on me."

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Never."

Artur turned slightly, his gaze low—but Camila reached over and brushed his shoulder, as if saying he’s yours too, you know.

The moment stretched, full and tender, and for the first time in days—something like peace began to settle into the air.

Meanwhile in the village the sun hovered low, casting soft golden shadows across the fields. A breeze stirred the leaves gently, the sound of birds winding down into quiet.

Mark sat beside Mr. Dand on the wooden bench, a glass of water in hand. Neither said much. Just silence and the rhythm of the wind.

Mark glanced at his phone.

"I’ll try again," he said quietly.

Mr. Dand gave a small nod.

Mark dialed Billy’s number, not expecting much. The call clicked—and to his surprise, someone answered.

But it wasn’t Billy.

It was Artur.

"Hello?" Artur’s voice was steady, but low—slightly husky from the hours of silence he’d spent inside the hospital.

Mark straightened. "Artur?"

There was a pause, like Artur wasn’t sure what to say at first.

"He woke up," he finally said.

Mark’s breath caught. He turned to Mr. Dand, eyes wide. "He’s awake."

Mr. Dand exhaled, deep and soft, as if something inside him just unclenched.

"Thank God," he whispered under his breath.

"Is he alright?" Mark asked into the phone.

"Tired. A little weak. But... he knew me. He remembered everything," Artur said, voice quiet. "Even here. Even... us."

The last word broke slightly.

Mark didn’t speak right away. His eyes softened. "That’s all we needed to hear."

On the other end, Artur stepped out of the hospital room, letting the door close gently behind him.

The hallway smelled of antiseptic and quiet hope. He leaned against the wall.

"He’s smiling again," Artur said.

Mr. Dand could hear the faint echo of that through the line.

Mark smiled, emotional now.

"Take care of him."

"I will."

"And yourself too."

"Trying."

They didn’t need to say more. Mark ended the call and looked toward Mr. Dand.

"He’s safe," he said softly. "Billy’s really back."

Mr. Dand looked out at the hills beyond the village, his voice warm and worn.

"That boy was never truly gone. Just finding his way home."

The breeze shifted again, rustling through the leaves. Peace settled, quiet and sure, across the porch.

The door clicked shut behind them. After Camila and his mother left, the room settled into a kind of hush that wasn’t heavy, just... waiting.

Billy lay back against the pillows, still pale but alert now.

The machines beside him hummed quietly, no longer the center of attention.

Artur stood near the window, arms crossed, gaze somewhere out on the horizon though the glass only showed the dull glow of the setting sun.

Billy watched him in silence for a while, studying the way the light touched his face.

"You haven’t said much," Billy murmured.

Artur blinked, as if pulled back. "Didn’t want to overwhelm you."

"Too late," Billy smiled, his voice still a little hoarse. "Waking up to find out I have two lives, a new name... and someone who hasn’t left my side."

Artur stepped closer. "You remember everything now?"

Billy’s gaze wandered to the IV line in his arm, the fading bruise beneath. "It’s like two timelines finally met in the middle."

Their eyes held. A beat passed.

"Artur," Billy said, voice lower now, "how long were you sitting here?"

Artur looked down, then shrugged lightly. "Since the day I heard. I wasn’t sure at first... but I stayed. I couldn’t risk missing the moment you opened your eyes."

Billy stared at him for a moment, something unspoken shifting behind his gaze.

"You’re tired."

Artur smirked, just a little. "You think?"

"Come here," Billy said, scooting slightly to the side on the bed.

Artur hesitated.

"I’m not made of glass," Billy teased.

Finally, Artur sat on the edge of the bed.

There was a pause, and then Billy reached out, fingers brushing Artur’s wrist.

"I don’t know how to explain it. When I was Billy... everything was simpler. Quieter. I felt like I could breathe again. And then... I remembered who I was,but it didn’t take away who I became."

Artur looked down at their hands.

"I don’t want you to forget either," he said quietly.

Billy squeezed gently. "I won’t."

Another pause.

Then Billy leaned a little closer.

"Thank you for staying."

Artur looked at him, something raw in his expression.

"I didn’t know how to leave."

Billy smiled, eyes soft. "Good."

Silence again, but not awkward. Just full. Then Billy let his head lean slightly against Artur’s shoulder, careful, quiet.

And Artur—finally—allowed himself to rest too.