Confused, James grabbed Barbara’s gift. “Open it yourself, let everyone see,” Richard demanded. With trembling hands, James opened the book—large bills were tucked between the pages. “Well, doctor, a bribe?” a cop asked, staring at him. “What are you talking about? This book was a gift! How was I supposed to know what’s inside?” James protested.
Richard shook his head: “Don’t play dumb, Jimmy. We’ve been watching you. I installed a camera in your office—saw everything, how that old lady handed you the book. Clever way to hide money.” “What games? What are you talking about?” James snapped. But the chief was clearly gloating. Now the county hospital’s GP was a suspect in a bribery case, with cash hidden in an old book.
James could swear Barbara didn’t put money there—where would a pensioner get that kind of cash? “You set this up, Richard, didn’t you? Be honest!” he flared. “Don’t shift blame, Jimmy. Get ready for court,” the chief shot back. The cops added, “We’re not arresting you yet, but don’t leave town and show up when called.”
James paled. His life flashed before him: high school, college, residency—and now, accused of a bribe he didn’t take. An hour later, Richard announced his termination, backdated. “You’re fired, no discussion. The cameras were my idea. We’ll root out violations and replace the staff,” he declared. James just shook his head: “Replace whoever, but count me out.”
“I’ll find the truth, and there was no bribe,” James threw out, but Richard only smirked: “Doesn’t matter if there was or not. Money’s with you—you’re guilty. The camera clearly caught the patient giving you the book. Prep for court and get a lawyer. I don’t want you sent to a labor camp—you’re a good doctor, but don’t mess up.”
James clenched his jaw, holding back the pain, and left the office without finishing his shift. At home, another blow awaited. Emily, his wife, sat on packed suitcases. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I’m leaving, Jimmy, for good. I’m done living in poverty, waiting for your promotion. You’re too honest, won’t take bribes, but I want vacations and a ring like Sarah Thompson’s. All you give me is cheap jewelry and wildflowers,” she smiled.
James paled, kicked off his shoes, and sank into an armchair. He had no energy to argue. This talk had been brewing for a while. “All you care about is your books. You should’ve moonlighted at a private clinic—they offered!” she jabbed. “What’s it to you? I need my own time. Some guys fish, some hit the bar—what about me?” he countered.
Emily was prepared. Soon, a dark green sedan pulled up. A well-dressed man stepped out but didn’t enter the house—James had no desire to see him. Emily managed alone, lugging her suitcases and comically straining under their weight. Later, he noticed she’d taken everything valuable: her jewelry, his wedding band, and a gold cross from his mother. He didn’t care for trinkets, keeping them in a box for a future child, but now… “Nice reward for everything,” he whispered bitterly.
The stranger on the couch groaned, trying to turn over, but lacked the strength to ask for help and fell back asleep. “It’s okay, the IV will help. Call an ambulance? I’d have to explain where I found her. With the bribery case, they’d pin an assault on me too. No, I’ll treat her myself—I’ve handled worse,” James reassured himself. He sat in the armchair all night, watching her. By morning, exhaustion won, and he dozed off.
He woke to an odd feeling. Opening his eyes, he saw the woman standing across from him, studying him. “Morning. Feeling better?” he asked cautiously. She shrugged: “I guess. What happened to me?” “Hard to say. Maybe poisoning. Don’t worry, I’ll set more IVs tonight, get some meds.”
Her eyes widened in surprise: “You’re just treating me like that? Who are you? What if you make it worse?” James smiled: “I’m a GP from the local hospital, I won’t do harm. Last night, I was walking by the river, saw some foreigners doing something odd. Spotted you in their car, grabbed you, and got you out. Good people helped.”
Her cheeks flushed. “God, what happened to me? The river, foreigners… Who am I? Maybe I’m a foreigner too?” “Don’t stress, your memory will come back—in a day or a week. Your body’s recovering, that’s the main thing. Want breakfast?” She nodded: “Yeah, but can I make it? I feel like doing something in the kitchen. Maybe I was a chef in a past life?”
James chuckled: “Not sure if you’re a chef, but you definitely know your way around a kitchen.”
“You don’t strike me as a kitchen type. More like an office worker—your look fits. Restaurant kitchens are usually guys, that’s just how it is,” James noted. The woman scanned the kitchen and slumped. Emily, his wife, couldn’t and wouldn’t cook, so he often made do with cereal or instant noodles. Emily ate at her office or the restaurant downstairs, not thinking of him. “If you’re hungry, cook. If not, your problem. Can’t afford delivery? Your fault,” she’d say, valuing only money.
“Not much to work with in this kitchen,” the guest said wryly, but found a few potatoes and fried them with eggs from the fridge. A savory aroma filled the house. “Tasty,” James approved, giving a thumbs-up. “Nothing special. If there were more ingredients, I’d make something better. This is like pulling a meal out of thin air,” she smiled.
“Sorry, what’s your name? I know memory’s fuzzy, but maybe we can pick a temporary one?” he asked. Stirring the food, she thought: “I like Vicky. Maybe I’m not Vicky, but let’s go with it. And let’s drop the formal stuff—too stiff.” James nodded, agreeing. While she plated the food, he made coffee, and they sat at the table. For the first time in ages, he felt warmth—Emily never shared breakfasts like this. He’d dreamed of family meals, something he missed as a kid: no father, just him and his mom at the table, with an empty spot across that always felt heavy.
Once in school, he drew a family at a table—mom, dad, and him, but left the father’s face a blank circle, not knowing what he looked like. Now, years later, he was having a real breakfast, not on the run. “Really good. You cook well. Maybe we could swing by a restaurant? They might be looking for you,” he suggested. Vicky fell silent, lost in thought.
She was troubled by what happened. She could go to the police, but what would she say? How she ended up on the riverbank with foreigners? Sensing she was tangled in something shady, she decided not to rush and accepted James’s offer to stay with him. To break the silence, he turned on the kitchen TV. Local news played: road repairs, utility upgrades, tree trimming. James half-listened, but suddenly Vicky dropped her fork and froze, tears in her eyes as she stared at the screen.