A young nurse was washing a guy in a coma, but one day when she pulled back the blanket, she was totally floored by what she saw

He opened his eyes. He, she looked back at Grant, still unable to believe what she was seeing. His chest rose and fell shakily, his eyes darting around the room as if trying to piece together where he was.

What was happening? He wasn’t fully aware, not yet, but he was here. Dr. Harris’s expression turned from shock to action. Get me a neurological team now.

Nurses scrambled, voices overlapping in disbelief as they hurried to perform tests. The room was a whirlwind of motion, but Anna couldn’t take her eyes off Grant. Then, as if feeling her gaze, his eyes found hers again, and this time he didn’t look away.

Everything was happening so fast. The doctors were asking him questions, shining lights into his pupils, testing his motor functions. But through it all, Grant’s gaze kept drifting back to Anna.

She stepped forward hesitantly, swallowing hard. Grant, she whispered. Do you remember anything? He stared at her, blinking slowly.

A long silence stretched between them. Then, his fingers twitched again, and before she could react, he reached for her hand. Weakly, slowly, but deliberately.

His hand closed around hers, his grip fragile yet firm, as if he had always known her. Anna’s breath hitched. Dr. Harris looked up sharply.

Grant, do you know who she is? Grant didn’t answer immediately. His brows furrowed, his gaze never leaving Anna’s. I don’t know, he murmured, voice rough from months of disuse.

But I feel like I should. A chill ran down Anna’s spine. Because even though Grant Carter didn’t remember her, something deep inside him did.

The days after Grant’s miraculous awakening were filled with tests, therapy, and endless questions. Doctors were amazed by his recovery. Physically, he was weak but improving.

His muscles, stiff from a year of immobility, were regaining strength through rehabilitation. But mentally? That was another story. Grant couldn’t remember anything about the accident.

And the more they pressed him for details, the more frustrated he became. Grant, let’s try again, Dr. Harris said during one of their sessions. What’s the last thing you remember? Grant rubbed his temples, his expression tense.

I, I don’t know. Anything, where you were? What you were doing? Grant exhaled sharply. I told you.

It’s just pieces, flashes. Tell me about them. A long silence.

Then, Grant closed his eyes, his brows furrowing. I remember. A feeling.

His voice was slow, uncertain. Like something was wrong. Like I was in danger.

Anna, who had been listening quietly from the side, stiffened. Grant continued, his fingers clenching. There was a road.

Headlights. And then, nothing. Just black.

Dr. Harris sighed. It’s common for trauma victims to block out painful memories. It may come back on its own.

But for now, we focus on recovery. Grant nodded. But Anna could see the frustration in his clenched jaw.

And deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. That night, unable to stop thinking about it, Anna went to the hospital archives. She had read Grant’s file before, but this time, she went through every detail with fresh eyes.

And that’s when she saw it. Something she had missed before. The report from the accident reconstruction team stated that Grant’s brakes had failed.

Failed. Not worn out. Not malfunctioned.

Tampered. A chill ran down her spine. This wasn’t just an unfortunate crash.

Someone had wanted Grant dead. And he had no idea. Taking a shaky breath, she closed the file.

She needed to tell him. Because if someone had tried to kill him once, they might try again. Grant’s recovery was happening at a remarkable speed…