Hi guys, I have a new update for you! I hope you enjoy it! I know we are all working on trying to make it through when this world is going to hell, literally, so I am here for you!

Sam hurried into the sleek, glass-walled offices of EvoTech Solutions, the small tech consulting firm he and Steven co-owned. The place was buzzing with tension—employees frantically typing, phones ringing off the hook, and hushed, urgent conversations indicating that something big had gone wrong.

He passed the front desk, quickly nodding at the frazzled receptionist before heading straight to the boardroom. Inside, Steven stood at the head of the long conference table, sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled—a clear sign he'd been putting out fires since early morning.

Monitors and spreadsheets displayed half-finished error logs and client complaint tickets.

Steven looked up sharply as Sam entered. "About damn time," he snapped, slamming a pen down on the table. "Where the hell have you been?"

Sam bit back a defensive remark. Instead, he set his laptop on the table and booted it up. "I got here as fast as I could. Talk to me—what's the situation?"

A weary sigh escaped Steven's lips as he gestured at a screen. "Our latest software patch for the WestCorp project glitched on deployment—server crashes, data mismatches, everything. The client's threatening to bail if we don't fix it fast."

Without another word, Sam slipped into a chair, eyes locked on the data streaming across his screen. The two brothers fell into a practiced rhythm, setting aside all personal grudges momentarily as they collaborated on stabilizing the system. They barked orders at employees, pulled up code, and pored over line after line, searching for the culprit.

After nearly an hour of frantic typing, Sam spotted the error—a memory leak in a new script—just as Steven traced it on another screen. Sam typed up a quick patch, ran a local test, and then shot it to the client's server. They waited, breath held until the console reported a successful update.

Steven exhaled and slumped in his seat. "We'll need to monitor it, but that should hold. Good catch."

Sam nodded, resisting the urge to let relief show too openly. "Team effort," he murmured. "I'll have my team watch the logs the rest of the day."

A tense silence fell over the room as the adrenaline ebbed. Finally, Steven's gaze flicked to Sam—and lingered. Slowly, a frown formed on his face. "What's on your mouth?"

Sam blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Steven stood abruptly, crossing his arms. "Your lips are… shiny. Like lip gloss." His eyes narrowed. "Did you kiss Mercedes?"

Sam's heart thudded. His hand shot up to wipe his mouth, and sure enough, the faint tacky texture of lip gloss greeted his fingertips. Amelia warned me, he thought bitterly.

When he didn't answer right away, Steven's jaw tightened. "Sam," he said in a low, warning tone.

Sam swallowed hard. "She kissed me," he admitted quietly. "I—she caught me off guard."

Steven's eyes flashed with fury as he jabbed a finger in Sam's direction. "You said you wouldn't take advantage of her memory loss."

"And I'm not," Sam shot back, heat rising in his face. "I didn't go in planning to kiss her, okay? I pulled away."

Steven let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Sure you did. That's why there's still gloss on your lips." He took a step closer, voice dangerously low. "God, Sam, do you realize how messed up this is? She thinks she's engaged to you. You're letting her believe that—"

Sam's anger flared. "I'm not letting her believe anything. She made that assumption. The doctors said not to force the truth on her yet, that it could harm her recovery."

Steven barked out a sarcastic laugh. "How convenient for you. The woman I'm supposed to marry is making out with my brother, and you get to be the noble one helping her 'recover' by kissing her whenever she wants?"

Sam's knuckles went white against the edge of the table. "I didn't kiss her," he repeated, voice tense. "She kissed me. And for your information, I'm torn up about it. I'm not trying to hurt you, but I won't hurt her either by pushing her away when she's vulnerable."

"You're so full of it," Steven seethed. "This is exactly what you want, isn't it? For her to stay confused and cling to you. Because the moment she remembers—"

"Stop." Sam slammed his laptop shut and rose to his feet, fighting to keep his temper in check. "Look, we handled this crisis. Let's keep this professional. If you want to talk about personal matters, fine—but not here. Not like this."

Steven's gaze was ice-cold, hands clenched at his sides. Sam feared his brother might take a swing at him. But then Steven stepped back, letting out a ragged breath. "Fine. We'll keep it professional. You need to monitor this for the next hour and then do whatever you want." He jerked his chin at the hallway. "But don't think I'm letting this go for one second."

Sam gritted his teeth. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Steven turned on his heel and stalked out, leaving Sam in the empty boardroom, heart pounding.

Once Steven stormed out, the boardroom was silent. Sam stayed behind, collapsing into a chair at the head of the long table. The overhead lights hummed softly, punctuating the quiet as he rubbed his temples, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

He was still sitting there, head in his hands, when the door opened. Blaine, the company's manager and Sam's long-time best friend, stepped inside. Sensing the tension in the room, Blaine closed the door quietly before approaching Sam.

"You alright, man?" Blaine asked concern etched on his face.

Sam let out a humorless laugh. "Do I look alright?"

Blaine pulled out the chair next to Sam and dropped into it, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "I take it you and Steven had it out again."

Sam nodded, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "He noticed I had… lip gloss on me. Mercedes's lip gloss." His cheeks heated at the memory. "We got into it."

Blaine blew out a breath, drumming his fingers on the table. "So, the rumors are true. She really believes you're her fiancé?"

Sam ran a hand over his face, feeling exhaustion tug at every muscle. "She does. After the accident, she woke up thinking I was the one she was engaged to. She said that she felt it in her soul that we were together. I called you, but then so much happened."

Blaine nodded. "I can see that. So how did Steven take that?"

Sam let out a hollow laugh. "About as well as you'd expect. He's furious. Thinks I'm taking advantage of her."

Blaine shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. "Are you?" he asked gently, his eyes searching Sam's.

"No," Sam snapped too quickly. Then he sighed, his shoulders deflating. "I mean, I'm trying not to. It's confusing. She kisses me… and I swear, Blaine, it's all I've ever wanted. But the second I let myself enjoy it, I feel guilty."

Blaine nodded slowly, understanding. "Because you and Steven are brothers, and she was originally engaged to him."

"Yeah," Sam muttered. "And he's right about one thing: she doesn't remember. She can't make a real choice if she can't recall her feelings for him… or for me. It doesn't matter; Steven is in love with her; he has her heart."

Blaine placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "And it kills you because you have feelings for her." It wasn't a question—just a quiet statement of fact.

Sam let out a long breath. "I've been in love with her for years." His voice cracked on the admission. "And I thought I could just… let her go. I wanted to respect that she was with Steven. But now, seeing her like this, needing me—" He closed his eyes. "It's tearing me up inside."

Blaine frowned thoughtfully. "What about the doctor's recommendation? Aren't they worried forcing her to remember might do more harm than good?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, that's exactly it. They said not to push her, not to overwhelm her. But you've met Mercedes. She's stubborn, she's curious. She's already reading old diaries, asking questions, picking up on how tense things are between me and Steven."

Blaine leaned back, crossing his arms. "So what do you want to do, Sam? Deep down?"

Sam stared at a spot on the conference table, voice low. "I want to be honest with her. I hate lying… or letting her believe a lie. But if I tell her the truth—that she was actually engaged to Steven—I could mess with her recovery. Or worse, she might think I betrayed her trust."

Blaine tapped his foot against the carpet. "And if you don't tell her?"

Sam's gaze flickered up, pained. "Then I'm taking advantage, just like Steven says. Because every time she kisses me or says something about our 'engagement,' I'm letting her believe it's real. I'm basically waiting for the day she remembers—or finds out—and hates me for it."

Blaine exhaled, brows knitting. "That's rough, man. No easy answers." He paused, considering. "But maybe the solution lies somewhere in the middle. You can be there for her, but you don't have to fully play the role of her fiancé. Maybe keep a certain… distance."

Sam let out a hollow laugh. "Easier said than done. You didn't see her eyes when she kissed me—she looked at me like I was her whole world." His voice shook with emotion. "I'm not sure I can keep that distance, Blaine. It's like every time I see her, all I want to do is hold her."

Blaine studied Sam momentarily, then touched his friend's arm comfortingly. "Look, maybe it's not about being distant, but about being… respectful. Caring. Give her the support she needs without crossing too many lines, you know? Be present, but try to keep the physical stuff in check."

Sam pressed his lips together, considering. "She'll notice if I start pulling back more."

"And that's okay," Blaine said. "Just tell her you're worried about her injuries, all that. Focus on her health first. That's not a lie—it's true. You're still protecting her and yourself from a bigger fallout."

Sam raked his hands through his hair, torn. "Yeah. Maybe that'll work. But I can only keep this up for so long."

"That's why you're hoping her memories return," Blaine noted gently. "So the choice is hers."

Sam nodded, swallowing hard. "I want her to remember everything, even if it means she picks Steven. I don't want her to feel like I tricked her into loving me."

Blaine gave him a sad smile. "You're a good guy, Sam. If it's meant to be, you'll find a way…Mercedes may not have her memories, but her heart called out to you; otherwise, she would have said she was engaged to Steven."

They sat silently for a moment before Blaine clapped Sam on the back. "Come on. We should circle back with the team and make sure that the patch is holding. We can't afford another glitch."

Sam stood, exhaling. "Yeah, I guess we should. Thanks, Blaine… for listening."

"Anytime," Blaine said, opening the boardroom door. "By the way, you might want to run to the restroom and wash the rest of that gloss off before people start talking."

A faint blush crept up Sam's neck as he gave a rueful chuckle. "Right. Good idea."

As he headed out, Sam felt marginally lighter. The crisis with the software was tentatively under control, and he had at least a rough plan to protect Mercedes from more heartache—if only he could protect himself as well.

Steven drove straight to Sam's house after leaving the building in a storm of unresolved anger. His mind was filled with a mix of hurt and determination. She kissed his brother, and though she wasn't aware of what they meant to each other, if this is what she felt seeing him with Penny, he could understand why she ran away.

When he reached the front porch, Amelia was waiting for him. Her eyes were steely as she stepped forward and blocked his path. "What do you want, Steven?" she asked sharply.

He looked up at her, desperation in his voice. "I want to talk to my fiancée," he declared.

Amelia's lips tightened. "Mercedes isn't up for visitors right now."

"Ami, come on, let me see her."

Amelia shook her head. "Look, she doesn't want to see you—you need to leave."

Steven's face contorted with pleading anger. "Please, Amelia, just give me a minute with her," he begged. "I need to talk to her; I need to know she's okay."

"Steven, right now, she is dealing with a lot of things. You being here like this isn't going to help her; it's going to hurt her."

At that exact moment, Amelia's phone rang. "Hold on, it's my dad. Do not go inside," she said, answering the call and stepping away into the kitchen. Seizing the opportunity, Steven slipped quietly past her into the house.

The living room was hushed in the soft glow of afternoon light. On the couch, Mercedes sat curled up among pillows, completely absorbed in one of her old diaries. Her gaze was distant, and a trace of sadness lay behind her gentle eyes. Steven's heart pounded as he approached, clearing his throat softly. She was still so beautiful.

"Hey," he said, easing himself down on the couch beside her. "How are you?"

Mercedes looked up, startled. "Steven…" she murmured. "I'm—I'm okay," she added, though her voice wavered and her eyes hinted at deeper hurt. "How are you?"

He sighed. "I could be better."

She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. "Did you guys fix whatever was going on?"

Steven raised an eyebrow before nodding. "Oh yeah, Sam and I fixed it. It's all good."

Mercedes nodded and shifted silently.

Steven looked at her. Leaning forward, his tone softened as he reached for her. "Can I ask if you remember anything? Anything at all?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head slowly. "No," she whispered. I wish I did. Every day, I wake up wishing I remembered everything. Even reading these diaries and learning things about my past—it all feels so surreal. Like it's not my life. Nothing rings a bell."

Steven hesitated, then nodded slowly as if steeling himself. "I want to tell you something," he said, "but I'm worried it might mess with your healing."

"You don't have to say anything…" Mercedes lifted her eyes to his. "I know the truth," she replied softly. After a pause, she continued, "I know that you and I are engaged, not Sam and I."

At those words, Steven's face flickered with hope as he reached for her hand, but she pulled away, which made him falter. "What's wrong?" he asked urgently, leaning forward.

Mercedes drew in a shaky breath. "I may not remember anything, and I have to rely on what people tell me most of the time," she began, her eyes searching his. But I also can rely on my feelings, and that feeling is telling me that something happened before the accident. I need to know... what happened before the crash?"

Steven's gaze dropped, guilt etched across his face. After a long, painful pause, he confessed in a low, pained voice, "My ex came to me… and she kissed me—right when you walked into my office." His words tumbled out, heavy with regret.

Mercedes stared at him, her eyes clouded. She glanced down at the ring on her finger—a symbol of their supposed engagement—and then back at him, realizing she didn't feel the way she should. A numbness overtook her; she wished, more than anything, she could feel something—anything—but the emotion wouldn't come.

"I'm sorry," Steven pleaded, his voice cracking as he slid off the couch and knelt before her. "I promise we can work it out. Please forgive me. Come home with me, and let me make all of this up to you. Now that you know the truth, we can fix this. We can heal."

Mercedes's expression hardened with sorrow as she looked at him. Her heart should have felt heavy, and his pleas should have resonated with her, but instead, all she felt was emptiness when she thought about Steven and even him and another woman. But her heart broke when she realized that she and Sam weren't engaged and he might have someone. Was that why he wouldn't kiss her?

Looking back at Steven, she reached for the ring on her finger, twirled it, and then slowly pulled it off.

Steven reached for her hand, stopping her. "Don't do this, please. I didn't mean for this to happen. I am not a cheater."

Mercedes exhaled deeply. "This isn't about you cheating, Steven," she said softly but firmly. "I'm not saying that what happened was your fault alone. I don't know if you meant to kiss her or if it was a surprise. But…I can't be with you." Her voice trembled with the weight of her admission. "I can't be with you when I know, deep down, that I have feelings for Sam."

Steven's eyes flared with anger and hurt. "No—no, we're together. You love me!" he shouted, standing abruptly. "You just think you care for him because you're confused."

"Steven, I know I care for you," Mercedes replied, her tone both anguished and resolute. "But everything I've read in my diaries, all the texts and memories—even if half of them are fragments—point to something else. They point to me having feelings for Sam. And if that isn't enough, I feel it in my soul; I feel how deeply I care for him. And I know Sam doesn't feel that way for me. But me feeling this way isn't fair to either of us."

Steven's face contorted as his voice dropped to a raw whisper, "So you lied to me? All this time, you've just been playing with me?"

Mercedes's eyes filled with uncertainty as she shook her head slowly. "I—I don't know. I don't know if I lied or if I was just in denial. But the moment I woke up after the accident, one thing was clear—I was in love with Sam."

A heavy silence fell. Steven's shoulders trembled with unresolved anger and heartbreak while Mercedes sat motionless, her eyes distant, caught between the fragments of a forgotten past and a painful present.

The room remained silent, the air thick with sorrow and regret. In that quiet moment, nothing was resolved—only the raw, unspoken truth: the love triangle was now painfully exposed, and each heart was left to wonder if any of it could ever be mended.

Unable to deal with it any longer, Steven stormed out of the living room, his heart pounding with anger and hurt. As he reached the front door of Sam's house, he found Amelia waiting there, her expression a mix of concern and resignation.

"I told you she wasn't ready to see you," Amelia said softly.

"I can't believe she said those things," Steven spat, his voice low and bitter.

Amelia's eyes softened as she met his gaze. "Steven, you can't be mad at Mercedes. She never meant to hurt you," she said gently, though her tone was firm.

Steven shook his head in disbelief. "Really? How can I not be hurt when—"

"Listen," Amelia interrupted with a sigh, "Mercedes has always loved Sam. And you would be lying to both of us if you said that you didn't know that! I was there when you asked her out, and she said won't it be weird with how I feel about your brother and you said no. So you knew. And it's not that she never cared about you. When she was younger, you know she was hurt by how Sam treated her. She even left home, determined to forget those painful memories." She paused as if weighing her next words. "Then, when she returned from college, and you pursued her, she wanted to believe that she could fall in love with you—and she did love you. She does. But I think, deep down, she convinced herself that you were the best choice for her."

Steven's eyes flashed with a mixture of wounded pride and anger. "I am the best choice," he insisted, his voice laced with bitterness.

Amelia shook her head slowly. "I don't know about that, Steven," she replied quietly. "But what I do know is that, for the first time, my sister is following her heart—and that has to count for something."

Steven's face twisted in regret as he muttered, "Yeah… it's just that her heart didn't lead her back to me." With that, he turned away.

Steven saw Sam's car pulling into the driveway as he headed towards his car. Sam stepped out, looking at his brother.

"Hey."

Steven paused, about to say something, but stepped back, shaking his head one last time. Then he got into his car and drove off.

Sam frowned, closing his eyes before stepping into the house. He walked towards the living room, where he found Mercedes quietly reading one of her old diaries on the couch.

Before he could move any further, Amelia approached him.

"I gotta go now," she said, giving him a quick, knowing look. "But you should really talk to Mercedes…her conversation with Steven was a bit…hard on her."

"What happened?"

Amelia sighed. "Just talk to her; it will be okay."

Then, as if to offer one last bit of support, Amelia stepped over to the couch and gently pulled Mercedes into a warm, tender hug. "Goodnight, Merce," she whispered. "You sure you are good?"

She nodded, hugging Amelia back.

"Okay, just call me if you change your mind?"

With that, Amelia left the room, leaving Sam alone with Mercedes.

Taking a deep breath, Sam sat next to Mercedes on the couch, their silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the air conditioner. Seeing her look so fragile and broken, he reached out, gently taking her hand as if afraid that even a slight touch might shatter the fragile calm she had built around herself.

"Mercedes," he whispered, his voice tender yet edged with anxiety, "are you okay?"

She slowly shook her head, her long lashes trembling with unshed tears. Sam's gaze dropped to her hand, where, to his horror, the ring that once symbolized their supposed engagement was missing. His heart skipped a beat as his mind raced. "Mercedes... your ring, what happened?" he murmured, voice catching.

Mercedes looked down at her bare finger, then up at him with a quiet resolve that belied the vulnerability in her eyes. "I know the truth, Sam," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself as much as to him.

Confused, Sam leaned closer, every instinct urging him to protect her. "Did you—did you get your memory back?" he asked, the question trembling in the air between them.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes clouded with sorrow and confusion. "No," she replied, her tone barely audible. "But... Amelia told me things." Her fingers clutched the edge of an open diary that lay on the coffee table beside her. "After I read some... confusing entries, and then Steven came over... he confirmed it. He told me what really happened in his office."

A sudden, heavy silence fell over them as Sam processed her words. His heart ached with a mixture of regret and profound sorrow. He gently pulled her hand in his, his voice raw with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Mercedes. I never wanted you to feel that way," he said, his tone pleading and full of anguish. His eyes searched hers, desperate for any sign of forgiveness.

Mercedes's gaze remained steady, her expression calm despite the storm of emotions beneath. "That's the thing, Sam," she replied, her voice trembling with fragile strength. I don't feel betrayed or cheated. I'm not even sad about what he told me. I am sad that I had to hurt him by giving him the ring back." Her words were measured, almost detached, as though she had long since resigned herself to this painful truth.

Sam's brow furrowed, confusion and hurt mingling in his eyes. "Then… why did you give the ring back?" he asked quietly, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "If you know everything, then why aren't you with packing to go let him take care of you?"

"Because I don't want to leave."

Sam stared at her, shaking his head. "I don't understand, Mercedes. What does any of this mean?"

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, she met his gaze, her eyes glistening with an honesty that cut him to the core. "It wasn't right for me to be with Steven, Sam," she said, her voice steady but laced with sorrow. "I gave the ring back because my heart wants someone else. I thought knowing the truth would have given me this big revelation. But it didn't. Knowing the truth just made me feel guilty for hurting your brother. I can't pretend to be with someone when every part of me is calling out for a love that feels real—someone who makes me feel whole. Even if he doesn't feel the same."

Mercedes looked down at her now bare finger as if the absence of the ring carried the full measure of her truth. "I know," she said softly. "I'm not upset about what happened—I'm upset because I can't be with someone who makes me feel so conflicted. I know my feelings, even if they're confusing. And I can't be with Steven when my heart, in every single way, is telling me that I belong with you."

At her words, Sam felt as if the world had momentarily stopped. His chest tightened painfully, and for a long moment, he could only stare at her—at the woman he had always cared for, the woman who now, in her quiet revelation, seemed both heartbreakingly fragile and infinitely strong. "Mercedes," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "what are you saying? Are you saying… you love someone else?"

She hesitated, her eyes drifting briefly to the diary as if seeking confirmation from its written memories. Then, with a trembling resolve, she continued, "I know it might sound impossible or hurtful—but I have feelings for you, Sam. I know you might think I have no right to have these feelings. But I know that, deep down, I never truly belonged to Steven. I always sensed that something was missing… it's clear in the diary, it's clear that before the accident, I was going to Steven's office to tell him that I couldn't marry him. Because I was in love with you."

"How do you-what?" Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Ami showed me the texts I sent her the night before the engagement party. I told her the wedding was off."

Sam's heart lurched at her words, her confession, and the conviction with which she said them.

His mind reeled: the truth he had feared for so long was now laid bare between them. "But… Mercedes," he whispered, "I thought—" He couldn't finish the sentence; the weight of her admission was almost too much to bear.

She lifted her eyes, filled with tears and certainty. "I know I'm supposed to be with Steven. But... when I woke up after the accident, there was this overwhelming feeling inside me—a feeling I couldn't ignore. I've always been drawn to you, Sam. Even if my mind is lost in a haze of broken memories, my heart has always known where it belongs."

Time seemed to stretch on for a moment, every second laden with unspoken truths and raw, pulsing emotion. Sam's jaw dropped in disbelief as Mercedes continued, her voice steady despite the inner turmoil. "If now, with all of this out in the open, you think I should leave, if my being here causes issues for your girlfriend or whatever, I can call Amelia back or even my dad. But I'm not going to go back to Steven, Sam. I'm choosing to follow my heart, even if I don't remember every detail of my past. Even if you tell me that this is just one side-"

Unable to hold back his own surge of emotion any longer, Sam cut her off, leaning into her, the distance between them collapsing as if pulled by a force beyond his control. At that moment, every regret, every hope, and every unspoken apology poured into a single, desperate kiss—a kiss that was gentle yet charged with the weight of all that he had been unable to say.

His lips pressed to hers, and for an eternity of fleeting seconds, they existed in a suspended reality of shared pain and tender longing.

Sam's eyes were red and full of silent promises when they finally broke apart. "I do have feelings for you, Mercedes. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I was an asshole in school because I didn't know how to get you to notice me. And then, when I finally decided to tell you how I felt. I came home to you and Stevie being engaged."

Mercedes stared at him for a moment, her eyes moving to his lips, feeling a need to kiss him again. "I wish I could remember why I agreed to marry him. Why I never told you how I felt?"

Sam reached up, pressing his hand to her cheek. You are so beautiful, Mercedes. Inside and out, and one day, when you are ready, if... if you ever decide that you want to be with me fully—without any secrets or half-truths…" He leaned in and kissed her softly. "I'll be here. I promise I'll protect you, cherish you, and never let you feel this pain again."

Mercedes's eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and sorrow. "I don't know what the future holds," she whispered. "And I don't know if I am ever going to get my memory back, but I do know that when I look at you, everything—my doubts, my fears—seems to fade away."

Sam pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her closely.