The first sound she heard was the distant hum of a monitor. Slow, steady beeping.
Then… warmth. A gentle hand wrapped around hers.
Ruoxi's eyes fluttered open to a ceiling she didn't recognize — white, sterile, lined with soft light. She blinked slowly. Her entire body felt like it had been stitched back together from fragments. There was pain in her chest, pressure in her head, and… something else.
A man sat at her bedside, asleep in a chair. His hair had gone slightly grey at the temples, but his posture was sharp. Protective. As if he hadn't moved in hours.
"...You're awake."
The voice startled her. He rose immediately, leaning over her, eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and relief.
"I'm your father," he said gently. "Liang Weichen. I've waited a long time to say that."
Ruoxi frowned. Her mouth felt dry. The name didn't feel familiar.
"My… father?" she croaked.
He nodded slowly, pulling out a faded photograph from his jacket. In it, a younger version of him held a newborn in a hospital blanket. "They told me you died. Your mother… hid you from me. But I've spent the last decade trying to find you. And when I did, you were already… broken."
She tried to sit up, but a jolt of pain made her flinch. Weichen reached out quickly. "Easy. You were in an accident. Severe head trauma. You've been in a coma for three months."
Her eyes widened.
Three months?
She placed her hand gently on her stomach — and froze.
There was a curve there. Round, undeniable.
"What… what is this?"
The nurse arrived just in time. "Miss Liang, we were going to tell you gradually, but… you're pregnant. Approximately 14 weeks."
The words didn't compute.
Pregnant?
With whose child?
Ruoxi stayed silent for hours after that. The news crashed down on her like a tidal wave, swallowing everything she thought she knew about herself.
But that was the problem — she didn't remember anything. Not where she had been before the coma, not who she had loved, not what had led to this. She didn't even recognize her own reflection the first time she was shown a mirror.
"Your body healed faster than we thought," the doctor said the next morning. "But your memory… that may take longer. In some cases, it may never fully return."
Liang Weichen watched her quietly from the corner. She wasn't the daughter he had imagined, but she was still his blood. And in her silence, he recognized a strength he had once seen in her mother.
He rented a quiet villa in the Swiss countryside, surrounded by lakes and snow-kissed pine trees. Far from the press, far from pain. He hired a team of nurses, therapists, and a personal chef to help Ruoxi recover.
But nothing could fill the void in her chest — a void shaped like a man she couldn't remember.
The baby kicked for the first time during the sixth month. She had been sitting near the lake, journaling — her therapist had suggested it. At first, the flutter was so soft she thought it was a breeze. Then again. Stronger. Clear.
She gasped.
Weichen rushed over, but she shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes.
"I think… he just kicked."
"A boy?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "I don't know how I know. I just… do."
That night, she placed her palm over her belly and whispered, "I may not remember your father. But I'll never forget you."
Time passed.
She gave birth on a rainy spring morning, surrounded by gentle voices and warm hands.
The moment they placed her son on her chest, Ruoxi broke into sobs.
He had his father's eyes. She didn't know how she knew that… but she was sure.
She named him Ruiyan — a name that meant hope reborn in spring.
🕰️ Five Years Later – Paris
Ruoxi stood in front of the mirror, now a vision of elegance in a navy silk dress, hair tied back in a clean knot. She was no longer the confused girl in a hospital gown. She was now the CEO of Liang Atelier — her father's global luxury brand.
And more than that, she was a mother.
Ruiyan was now five. Mischievous. Clever. Thoughtful beyond his years. He had an odd knack for electronics, often taking apart remote controls and putting them back perfectly.
He never asked about his father.
But she knew he wanted to.
Sometimes, when she caught him staring at families in the park — fathers chasing sons, laughing freely — her heart cracked a little more.
"Ma, are we going to the big people's meeting today?" Ruiyan asked from behind her.
She smiled. "Just a conference, sweetheart. But yes — you'll be with Uncle Tian while I attend."
Uncle Tian, her adoptive brother, had moved with her to Paris to help raise Ruiyan. He was protective, sharp-tongued, and fiercely loyal. He was the only person besides her father who had known her before the accident.
And he was the only one who sometimes whispered, "You still carry his love in your eyes. Even if you can't remember it."
That afternoon, the global CEO summit in Paris began.
She stepped onto the stage, eyes fierce and confident.
In the crowd, a man in a charcoal black suit froze as she took the mic.
His heart dropped.
His breath stopped.
He whispered, as if afraid saying her name would break the illusion:
"…Ruoxi?"