His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 205: Tyler!!

Chapter 205- Tyler!!

BEATRICE’S POV

"Yes Beatrice you blacked out completely when you tried to remember what happened. I had to call the doctor.

After I called the doctor, he came in, and said you are going to get better. But please, don’t try to think too hard. Don’t force your brain to remember anything yet."

The moment those words left his lips, something snapped open in my head.

Suddenly, like water rushing through a broken dam, the memories came flooding back fast.

Not everything. Not the whole story. But flashes. Feelings. The hospital bed. The panic. That sharp, tearing pain in my skull. Me, trying so hard to remember what happened. And then—darkness. Total blackout.

I remembered myself trying to force it—trying to remember the moment that brought me here. And then I remembered the pain. The pain that felt like it was splitting my skull in two. And then I remembered passing out.

Was I stupid for trying to remember? Maybe. But I hated Declan. I hated the sight of him. I didn’t want to ask him a damn thing. I didn’t want to need him.

So yeah... maybe I made a stupid choice. But I’d rather hurt myself than depend on him.

"Why didn’t you just ask me?" he said, stepping closer. "Why would you put your already weak brain under that kind of stress?"

I looked at him, my lips pressed tightly together.

I didn’t answer right away because I didn’t owe him an explanation.

"I didn’t want to ask you," I finally said coldly.

He sighed. "But asking me could’ve prevented all of this. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt again. You nearly passed out in pain, Beatrice. I was scared."

Scared?

Now he wants to play the caring role?

Now he wants to act like I matter?

I laughed, and it wasn’t a happy laugh.

"Could you just fucking stop blaming me for everything?" I snapped, cutting him off before he could say another word. "You always do that. Always. You look at me like I’m the one who causes all the chaos."

He opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him speak.

"You’re the same man who used to treat me like I was nothing. Like I was some piece of trash lying in your way. And now you want to guilt-trip me for not asking you a damn question?" I hissed. "Spare me the motherfucking lecture, Declan. For all I know, you could be the reason I ended up in this hospital in the first place."

As soon as I said that, his face changed.

His eyes dropped. His whole expression shifted into something soft... something hurt.

Good.

Now he knows how it feels to be blamed for something when he has no way to defend himself.

That’s what he did to me for years. Made me feel like I was the reason for everything that ever went wrong in our lives.

So yeah, let him feel it now.

He didn’t say anything after that.

The room was quiet for a while. I looked at him, then at the IV in my arm, then at the door like I wanted to escape this whole damn scene.

I let out a slow breath.

"Fine," I said. "You want me to ask? I’m asking."

He raised his eyes at me.

"What happened to me, Declan?" I said, this time with no shouting. Just tiredness. "Because clearly... trying to remember on my own isn’t working. And I need to know. Just tell me what the hell happened."

Even if he gave me half the truth, it would be enough. I could connect the dots myself.

He rubbed his palms together slowly, like he was building up the courage.

"To cut the long story short," he said quietly, "you were shot. And I brought you to the hospital."

My heart paused.

Shot?

I blinked, staring at him.

"What?" I whispered, confusion and fear crawling into my throat.

What the hell did he mean by shot?

How could I be shot and not even remember it?

I stared at him, trying to read his expression, but he looked serious. Like... dead serious.

"Who shot me?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Was it you? Or are you just lying to me so I won’t remember what really happened?"

He didn’t even flinch. "You were shot in your spine area," he said calmly, like he was telling me something as casual as the time of day.

I blinked fast, trying to take that in.

"That has to be a lie," I whispered.

"Then see for yourself," he said and stepped back, pointing toward my body. "Check and see if I’m lying."

My heart was already racing. I didn’t want to believe him. I didn’t want it to be true. But a small voice in my head whispered that something wasn’t right with my body. I had felt it when I tried to move earlier—sharp pain, weakness, like something deep inside had been damaged.

With shaky hands, I moved the hospital blanket. Slowly, carefully, I began to sit up. I don’t even know how I did it—I didn’t have the strength—but before he could rush to stop me, I was already sitting up on the bed.

My body screamed in pain, but I pushed through it.

Then I raised the loose hospital gown covering me and looked down.

There it was.

White bandages, tightly wrapped around my lower stomach and side.

I froze.

No wonder... no fucking wonder I had been in so much pain.

No wonder sitting up felt like someone stabbing me with a knife.

The truth hit me like ice water. I had been shot. And somehow, I had survived it.

I looked at him again.

"How?" My voice was low now, almost scared. "How was I shot? Who did this to me? And why... why didn’t I die?"

Because deep down, I knew it—people who get shot in the spine don’t just walk away. Most don’t even get the chance to sit up again.

"You were shot by that good-for-nothing bastard you called a lover," he said, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "The same bastard that took all your money and blocked you like you meant nothing."

I stared at him, shocked, angry, but mostly—ashamed.

"We were on our way to find Tyler," he continued. "Because he was mad that you fell for that scammer. We were just about to find him when we got attacked by that same bastard. And then—bam! You got shot."

He paused, watching me closely. "I’m just glad you made it out alive."

And then—like a switch flipped in my brain—everything came rushing back.

Fast.

The sound of the gunshot. The fear. The way my body had gone cold. The sound of someone screaming my name. His face. The bastard’s face. The pain. The confusion. The darkness.

I gasped.

"That bastard!" I shouted, gripping the bedsheet like I was ready to tear it apart.

Tears burned the corners of my eyes. "Why... why did you even save me?" I asked him. "I thought you hated me."

He looked away.

He didn’t answer.

Of course, he wouldn’t.

That’s how he always was. He’d hurt me, then act like he cared, then go silent when it mattered most.

I would ask again later.

Right now, I had something more important on my mind.

"Where’s Tyler?" I asked quickly, my chest tightening. "Please... tell me he’s okay. Did you find him?"

He nodded. "Yes, we—"

But he didn’t get to finish.

The door suddenly burst open.

"Mom!"