Hearts Remember What Minds Try To Forget by Rex Wilder 43

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When I came to again, my head was splitting. I instinctively groaned in pain, struggling to pry open my heavy eyelids. 

“Ella! You’re awake?” 

Ethan, who had been waiting by the bed, instantly leaned closer, his bloodshot eyes filled with 

That’s when I realized someone had been clutching my hand this whole time. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip even more. 

I looked at the handsome face before me, one that felt both strange and unsettling, and my voice came out weak: 

“Who… are you? Where is this? My… my head hurts so bad…” 

“I’m Ethan, Ethan.” He answered immediately, his voice so gentle it could melt butter. 

“I’m 

your 

fiancé. This is our home. You suddenly got a high fever and were out cold for days. You nearly scared me to death.” 

He reached out and felt my forehead, his touch soft. 

“How are you feeling now? Is your head still hurting a lot? The doctor will be here soon.” 

Fiancé? 

I stared at him blankly, my mind a mess. Vague fragments flashed through my brain: 

The silhouette of a man holding roses, waiting backstage… 

A blood–stained white suit and clasped hands… 

The face of a man clumsily but earnestly playing the piano merged with Ethan’s… 

My tense nerves finally eased a bit. This guy really must be 

my 

fiancé. 

“I remembered a little… just some bits and pieces.” 

I frowned slightly, my head still feeling hazy. 

“It’s okay!” Ethan quickly reassured me, his voice strangely excited. 

“The doctor said it’s just temporary memory loss from the fever. It’ll come back slowly! Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll stay with you every step of the way!” 

He carefully helped me sit up, brought over a glass of warm water, and personally held it to my lips. 

In the days that followed, Ethan barely left my side. 

He found the best doctors, personally arranged my meal plan, and brought in all sorts of expensive tonics and jewelry. My bedroom was filled with fresh roses, flown in, just like before. 

Gradually, memories of us started to come back: 

He’d fallen for me at first sight and pursued me relentlessly. 

his 

He’d waited backstage at my concert, clutching roses, gaze fixed. 

He even took a knife for me without a second thought, then whispered, “Don’t be scared… 

But every time Ethan made a move to get close, I’d instinctively pull back. 

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Seeing the hurt in his eyes, I felt a stab of guilt. Ethan noticed my mood too, and his voice softened. 

“It’s okay, Ella. It’s my fault for not taking care of you, that’s why you’re sick. This isn’t on you. We can take our time.” 

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A month passed like that. I still couldn’t reciprocate Ethan’s love. I wanted to break up, but the memory of him taking that knife for me, that life–saving act, kept me from ever saying the words. 

It wasn’t until Ethan told me our wedding was set for two weeks later, and asked me to try on the wedding dress flown in from Paris, that my resistance flared. 

I had no idea how to tell him. So, while Ethan was at work, I packed up to move out of the villa, leaving just a letter behind. 

But I’d barely stepped out of the villa when Ethan rushed back from work. 

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice careful. 

“Ella, did I mess up somewhere? Why do you want to leave?” 

Seeing the hurt in Ethan’s expression, I pressed my lips together and said apologetically, 

“Ethan, I’m sorry. I can’t marry you right now. I need to get out and clear my head, think about us.” 

Ethan’s lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something to make me stay. 

Just then, a shrill roar of an engine shattered the quiet. 

I instinctively looked over. A red car was speeding straight for me. The woman in the driver’s seat looked insane, desperate, her face twisted with a tidal wave of hatred!