Chapter 1447
Chapter 1449:
Carsen initially assumed Chris was struggling with postoperative confusion. With professional calm, he stepped closer to the bedside and began the routine examination. “How are you feeling? Is there any discomfort p>
Chris lifted his gaze toward the unfamiliar doctor. For a moment he seemed to search his memory, then raised a hand and touched the thick bandages wrapped around his head. “Here — there is a dull ache,” he answered, his tone steady and unhurried. “Other than that, I feel fine p>
“The dull ache is expected. The wound will take time to heal,” Carsen explained. As he jotted down the information, he leaned in to observe the subtle contraction of Chris’s pupils, and his brow slowly drew together.
Chris was far too calm.
Most patients who had undergone a craniotomy showed some form of unease — restlessness, discomfort, a quiet fear over the fragility of their own bodies. Yet Chris lay there like a man awakening from an exceptionally deep sleep, still bridging the distance between the world inside his mind and the one outside his eyelids.
Carsen cleared his throat softly. “How about your thinking and memory? Do you notice anything different from before p>
Chris met his eyes with composed, cool rationality. “My thinking feels quite sharp,” he replied. “I can even recall moments from my childhood with perfect clarity — every detail.” A flicker passed through his gaze, something distant and almost haunting. “If there is anything unusual,” he added quietly, “it is only that I had a disturbing dream p>
“A dream?” Maia, who had been standing still like a forgotten shadow, lifted her head immediately. Carsen’s voice followed at once, precise and measured. “A dream? Would you tell us about it? It could help us understand your current mental state p>
Chris hesitated. His gaze drifted from Maia to Carsen, and a faint guardedness stirred beneath the calm surface of his expression. “I am sorry. I cannot describe it,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “The dream involves personal matters p>
Carsen paused, then nodded. He had worked with enough patients to know that certain doors were better opened from a different angle. Rather than pressing further, he lowered his voice and shifted course. “Perhaps you could share only what felt unsettling about it — nothing specific. Just what left you disturbed p>
𝗝𝘰і𝗻 t𝗵e 𝗰𝘰𝗺𝗆𝗎𝗻𝗂𝗍𝘆 at.с𝘰𝘮
Beside him, Maia’s fingers curled tightly at her sides. Her background in psychology was limited, but she understood enough to know that dreams often carried the unfiltered truths the conscious mind refused to acknowledge. Perhaps the answer to Chris’s sudden distance was buried there.
Chris drew a slow breath. “That, I can explain. I dreamed of a faceless person,” he said. “You could interpret it as a figure without facial features — or someone wearing a featureless mask p>
Carsen fell silent immediately, his mind moving through possibilities. Beside him, Maia’s heart lurched.
A mask. Her thoughts snapped at once to the banquet hall — to the gunmen who had stormed through with blank, expressionless masks gleaming beneath the chandeliers.
“Is this post-traumatic stress disorder?” Maia whispered, unable to steady the tremor in her voice. The pieces were falling into place in a way she feared. Soldiers, disaster survivors, victims of violence — they often carried fragments of trauma into sleep: repeated nightmares, symbolic fears, shadowed figures. For Chris, that symbol appeared to be the mask.
Carsen closed the medical file, unwilling to assign a label just yet. “It is too early to draw any conclusions,” he murmured. Then, in a more formal tone, he addressed Chris directly. “For now, your brain requires extensive rest. You should stay in the hospital for at least two weeks so we can monitor your neural activity and other indicators. If everything looks stable afterward, you may recuperate at home with scheduled check-ups.” He went through the list of postoperative precautions carefully and patiently before signaling for Maia to step outside.
They moved into the corridor, where the sharp scent of antiseptic and freshly sterilized floors pressed coldly against the air. Carsen pulled down his mask, and his expression shifted into something more personal.
“Can you tell me what happened between the two of you?” he asked gently.
Maia lowered her eyes, her voice nearly swallowed by the quiet hallway. “He has changed so much from the person I knew.” Her breath trembled. “It feels as though… he has forgotten everything that was between us p>