Hearts Remember What Minds Try To Forget by Rex Wilder 51

The nurse hesitated to speak but ultimately left in silence. 

The room had just quieted when her phone suddenly rang. 

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Carice fumbled to answer the call, and a hoarse yet vigorous voice came from the other end: 

“My dear girl, it’s Grandpa.” 

Carice froze. 

In the diary, the old man from the Sackhoff family seemed to be the only elder who treated her kindly. 

“My dear, I’ve heard about everything,” Grandpa Sackhoff’s kind and sympathetic voice came through the phone.“You’ve suffered. Since Rufus married you, he must treat you well. Don’t worry, Grandpa will stand up for you.” 

This was the first time since losing her memory that Carice felt genuine care and affection. 

Her nose tingled, and she nearly burst into tears:“No need, Grandpa, I’m fine.” 

“You always make me worry, you little rascal,” Grandpa Sackhoff sighed, “You were born the heiress, kidnapped and suffering so much. Your parents didn’t care for you, favoring their adopted daughter instead. And Rufus too…” 

“All these years, you gave so much for him. He was demanding and difficult, yet you learned to give him massages; he loved that rare tea set, which you tracked down across several cities; when he had internal bleeding, you cared for him tirelessly for three days and nights; when his mother passed away, you handled the funeral arrangements… and he treated you so coldly, never giving you his true heart. He will regret this!” 

Carice stared blankly at the snow–white ceiling. She didn’t remember any of these things, but just hearing about them made her heart ache repeatedly. 

“Alright, Grandpa needs to go for check–up now.” The old man said finally, “Remember, if you ever need anything, come to Grandpa.” 

Shortly after the call ended, the hospital room door was abruptly pushed open. 

Rufus stood at the doorway, his suit impeccably pressed, his gaze icy. 

“First you fake an allergic suicide attempt, then you run to Grandpa for backup. Carice, to get my attention, besides suicide and Grandpa, do you have no other tricks?” 

Carice wanted to explain, but under his mocking stare, she only murmured softly, “I didn’t mean to fake a suicide attempt. I just forgot 1 was allergic to peanuts.” 

“Forgot you were allergic to peanuts?” Rufus sneered, “Why don’t you say you even forgot who you are?” 

Carice quietly looked at him. 

Yes, she had even forgotten who she was. 

She had forgotten the Carice who once humbled herself for love, forgotten those years of soul–crushing despair, and even more… the love for him that once ran bone–deep. 

But she didn’t say a single word about any of it. 

Perhaps under Grandpa’s pressure, Rufus reluctantly stayed to ‘take care‘ of her. Though ‘care‘ was more like another form of torment. 

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He ignored the blood backing up in her IV line, remained indifferent when hot water scalded her hand, and even when she struggled to breathe and pressed the call button, he only cared about calling his assistant:“Has Annalise’s burn dressing been changed?… Mm, send over the best scar removal ointment.” 

The cruelest irony was, even though she no longer loved him, Carice still felt suffocated. 

She couldn’t imagine how her past self, who had loved Rufus so desperately, managed to endure these years of day–and–night 

torment. 

As plane tree leaves drifted outside the window, she suddenly recalled the words written on the last page of her diary: 

“If one day I no longer love you, it’s because my heart is dead.” 

Now thinking back, that Carice who wrote those words had probably already died during countless neglected nights. 

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