AFTER LOSING MY MEMORY, I ACTED SPOILED AND CALLED MY ENEMY “DARLING HUSBAND”
No fingerprint. No face recognition. Just a number lock I had no memory of setting…
Derek looked at me standing there, helpless in front of my own door, and sighed. The kind of sigh that carries the weight of a history I couldn’t access.
“You lived alone,” he said quietly.
“We’ve been… separated for a while.”
My heart sank.
“Before the accident, what was I thinking?” I murmured.
“Leaving a husband this handsome to live alone in some cold apartment?”
I tugged his sleeve.
“Can’t we go to your place instead? Our place. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
His eyes searched my face for something. I didn’t know what. I just stood there, holding his sleeve, looking up at him with everything I had.
The silence stretched until I was certain he’d leave me there.
Then his voice came out rough, like he was making a decision he’d been fighting against for a long time.
“Sarah. You’re the one who said this. Remember that. Don’t come crying to me later saying you regret it.”
I threw my arms around his neck.
“You’ll really take me home? Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll never make you angry again. I promise. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
A strong arm wrapped around my waist. His breath was warm against my ear, carrying something possessive and raw.
“Then you can’t leave me either.”
“I won’t.”
He pulled back just enough to look at my face. His voice dropped low, guarded, almost afraid.
“What if you mess up again? What if you make me angry?”
I nuzzled into his shoulder, my voice small.
“Then… then you can lock me up. Do whatever you want with me. Married couples fight, but they make up in bed. That’s the secret to keeping things alive, right?”
His chest vibrated with a low laugh.
“I’ll remember you said that. When the time comes, don’t cry.”
I thought I’d just saved a marriage that was teetering on the edge.
I had no idea that behind my back, nestled into the curve of his throat where I couldn’t see, his eyes were dark enough to drown in.
His house was enormous.
Two stories, open floor plan, minimalist and spotless and cold. Like a magazine spread nobody lived in. I understood immediately why romance novel heroines could run all day and never escape. The place was massive.
But there was no trace of me anywhere. Not a single pair of my slippers by the door. Not a toothbrush. Not a hair tie. Nothing.
“How long were we separated?” I asked carefully.
He didn’t answer.
I swallowed the question I really wanted to ask: Had we ever actually lived together at all?
Instead I said, “Honey, before I lost my memory, what kind of person was I?”
He sat on the leather sofa, raised one eyebrow, and delivered the verdict like a judge reading a sentencing.
“Stubborn. Selfish. Reckless with money. Arrogant. Empty headed.”
I launched myself at him. “Liar! You’re terrible!”
He caught me easily, eyes bright with something that almost looked like amusement. He pulled me onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m not lying. You used to lose your temper for no reason. You never treated me well.”
I deflated against his chest.
“Really?”
He stroked my back, the motion practiced, as if his hands had memorized this routine long ago.
“Really. You used to hit me, yell at me, curse me out.”
My ears burned. My lip trembled. Then I felt his mouth brush against my ear, teeth grazing the edge.
“But God help me,” he whispered, his voice rough like gravel under silk, “I loved every second of it.”
The air changed.
I don’t know how else to describe it. One moment we were talking, and the next, the oxygen in the room seemed to catch fire. I was breathing too fast. His eyes had gone impossibly dark, the pupil swallowing the iris, and every inch of him radiated a tension so controlled it was almost violent.
When my back hit the mattress and I looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling, I was shaking from head to toe.
He was above me. Everywhere. His weight, his heat, his scent, something clean and woodsy and underneath it, just him.
At the very last moment, he pulled back. His fingers refastened the top button of my shirt where it had come undone over my collarbone. His breathing was ragged.
“Stop pushing me,” he said.
“I’m letting you off tonight.”
I almost screamed.
He got up, straightened his shirt, ran a hand through his hair.
“Where are you going?”
I grabbed his sleeve, and I knew the look on my face was pure desperation.
He smiled. Actually smiled. And it transformed his whole face into something so beautiful it hurt.
“Nowhere. Go shower. I’ll let the housekeeper in.”
When I came out of the bathroom, new pajamas were laid out on the bed. New slippers by the door. A new toothbrush on the counter. Even new underwear, the exact same style and size as the ones I’d been wearing.
He’d thought of everything.
We lay in the dark, side by side, and he kept his distance. I crawled across the gap between us and pressed myself against his chest. He smelled like clean cotton and soap.
“Honey?”
“Mm.”
“I don’t remember anything from before. But if I was terrible to you, I’m sorry. Let’s not fight anymore. Let’s not be apart anymore. I’m scared. I don’t know anything. You’re all I have.”
He pulled me tighter. Kissed my forehead.
“Don’t be scared. You have me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Even though I forgot everything,” I murmured, my voice fading, “the second I saw you, I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to hold onto you. The one thing I know for sure is that I still love you.”
Sleep was pulling me under. My words turned to mumbles. But just before I went, I heard him whisper into the darkness above my head, so quiet I almost missed it.
“Sarah, you losing your mind might be the greatest gift God ever gave me.”
He smoothed my hair.
“If this is a dream, I pray I never wake up.”
We settled into a life that felt like someone else’s fairy tale.
Then Kevin called.
My brother. The third time his number flashed on my screen, I finally picked up.
“Hello? Hi, Kevin. What can I help you with?”
A long exhale on the other end. Irritated. Impatient.
“What’s wrong with you now? It’s been over a month. You’re still throwing a tantrum? Laura already apologized. How long are you going to drag this out?”
“Tantrum about what? Who’s Laura?”
He rattled off things that meant nothing to me. His tone made it clear he didn’t particularly want to be talking to me, and the fact that he’d gone over a month without knowing I’d been in a car accident told me everything about our relationship.
“Sure,” I said pleasantly.
“I accept her apology. Was there anything else?”
I could hear his jaw drop through the phone.
The front door opened.
“Honey!” I hung up immediately, not hearing the sputtering fury that erupted on the other end.
I ran to Derek and kissed his cheek. “You’re home!”
He’d gotten used to my affection by now. More than used to it. Sometimes, when the feeling overtook him, he’d kiss me back so deeply my knees buckled, then pull away and ask, his voice raw, if I’d love him forever.
My phone rang again. Kevin. I declined instantly.
Derek raised an eyebrow.
“Someone’s calling. Why aren’t you answering?”
“I already talked to him. He just yelled at me the second he opened his mouth. And he kept mentioning some girl named Laura. I don’t know any Laura. It gave me a headache.”
Derek took my phone. Saw Kevin’s name. His face went dark.
“What’s wrong? Do you know him? Was my relationship with him good?”
His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me shiver.
“Honey, don’t look at me like that. You’re scaring me.”
I grabbed his hand. He held it tighter.
“You don’t know him,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.
“The relationship was bad. Don’t answer his calls again. Ever.”
I nodded. Right there, using his own thumb on my phone, I blocked Kevin’s number, deleted the chat history, removed every trace.
Derek stared at me, genuinely surprised.
I pinched his cheek.
“There. He can’t reach me anymore. Don’t be upset, okay?”
Without warning, he swept me off my feet and carried me toward the bedroom. His eyes burned like a wolf’s. His breathing was heavy.
“Sarah Townsend,” he growled, “what am I supposed to do with you?”
The answer got lost somewhere in the kiss.
The morning after, I woke to a string of frantic messages from an unsaved number. I scrolled up. The contact was labeled Liu Liu — Gorgeous Monster.
Your brother finally got out. That old man really swallowed your dad’s share.
Three months and not one text? You dead?
Sarah you’re not answering calls either. Don’t tell me something actually happened.
CALL ME BACK.
Then, at the very bottom: Are you LIVING with Derek Hargrove right now???
Followed by an entire screen of question marks.
I typed back: Yeah. We’re very happy. Save your funeral money.
My phone nearly exploded.
I met Melissa Liu at a coffee shop in Montrose. I didn’t remember her, but the second I saw her face, something in my chest recognized her before my brain did. Not attraction. Not romance. Just this deep, bubbling urge to laugh.
She was beautiful in a chaotic way, like a hurricane wearing lipstick.
“In broad daylight,” she muttered, knocking back whiskey, “fiction wouldn’t dare write what you’re doing.”
“You really don’t remember me?”
I shook my head honestly.
“But I know you’re a good person. And you’re my friend. There are tons of photos of us in my album.”
I didn’t mention the unflattering morning selfies.
“Good enough, I guess.”
She took another swig. Then she leveled her eyes at me.
“Why are you surprised I’m shocked you’re shacking up with Derek Hargrove?”
And then she told me.
According to Melissa, Derek and I were not happily married lovers.
We were sworn enemies.
“You two had an arranged engagement,” she said, leaning forward.
“Set up by both families. But on the night of the engagement party, you bolted. Just ran. In front of everyone. Both families lost face. Kevin was furious. Derek stopped acknowledging your existence.”
“Then why did I keep provoking him?”
“Because you’re insane, Sarah. Every time you ran into him, you went out of your way to make him miserable. And then…”
She hesitated.
“Then what?”
“You attached yourself to his biggest business rival. Ethan Kellner.”
The name landed like a stone in water.
“And Ethan’s sister, Laura, walked all over you. She wore your mother’s vintage dress and ruined it. Did you do anything about it? No. Because you were too busy orbiting Ethan like a lost satellite.”
Melissa’s eyes hardened.
“That girl is a textbook green tea viper. Every time I see her I want to throw hands.”
I sat with this information. In the story Melissa told, I sounded unhinged. I’d abandoned a perfectly good engagement. Alienated my own brother. Humiliated myself chasing a man I didn’t even love. Let his sister disrespect me.
“Babe,” Melissa said gently, reading the shame on my face.
“Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. New brain, fresh start. Dump Ethan Kellner. The farther, the better. And for the love of God, move out of Derek’s house. Push him any further and not even heaven can save you.”
She dropped her voice.
“Derek Hargrove is not a gentle man, Sarah.”
When I got home, Derek was sitting on the sofa in the dark.
No lights. Just his silhouette against the city skyline through the glass.
I froze in the doorway.
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just raised one hand and curled a single finger toward himself.
“Come here.”
I didn’t move.
His voice dropped. Quiet, controlled, and underneath it, something that sounded like a blade being drawn.
“Come here, baby. Don’t make me say it again.”
I walked to him and was pulled down into his lap in one swift motion.
He stroked my back. Smiled. But the smile didn’t touch his eyes.
“What did Melissa tell you today?”
I swallowed. Every warning she’d given me screamed in my head.
The day you ran off to Ethan and publicly humiliated Derek, he showed up at the Jade Room and flipped the table. I’ve never seen anyone look that unhinged. If Kevin hadn’t intervened, all three of us would have been carried out in bags.
“What are you thinking about?”
His voice, low and even.
“Nothing.”
I told him the truth. Part of it.
“She told me about before. She said we never fought. Never got married.”
He waited.
“She said we were never in love.”
His name came out of my mouth before I could stop it. Not “honey.” His actual name.
“Derek.”
His face changed.
“And?”
“You’re not my husband. I’m not your wife.”
I put my hand on his chest, tried to push myself up.
“We shouldn’t be living together. I want to go home.”
The world tilted.
My back hit the sofa cushions. He was above me, his body a cage, backlit by the city lights so I couldn’t see his face.
“Go home?”
His laugh was cold.
“Go where? This is your home.”
His hand found my throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. Reminding me it was there.
“I forgave you once, Sarah.”
His mouth found mine, hungry and furious.
“There won’t be a second time.”
Then his voice softened. The rage collapsed into something raw and pleading, and he kissed my trembling mouth like it was the last thing he’d ever do.
“Don’t listen to them. We love each other. I love you. You love me. You are never leaving. Do you hear me?”
The sweetness should have been a comfort.
It sounded like a spell being cast.
I wrapped my arms around him and nodded.
“Good girl,” he breathed.
“Good girl.”
He held me and stroked my hair and whispered reassurances, never knowing that behind his back, pressed against his shoulder where he couldn’t see, the corner of my mouth was curling upward.
Because here is the truth.
The accident was real. The amnesia was real. For two weeks after I woke up, I genuinely didn’t know my own name.
But by the second week, sitting in that hospital bed watching Derek Hargrove coldly peel an apple, the memories came flooding back.
All of them.
He’d never done housework in his life. He didn’t even like apples. But I did. And years ago, back when things were good, I used to make him carve the peel into little rabbit shapes and throw a fit if they weren’t cute enough.
He’d learned.
He was still doing it.
I remembered everything. Why I fell in love with him. Why I thought he didn’t love me back. The engagement party. The conversation I’d overheard.
His best friend’s voice: You’re really not going to wait for her anymore?
Derek’s voice, flat and final: No. Not waiting.
But I’d only heard half the conversation. I’d filled in the rest with my own heartbreak and arrived at the wrong conclusion.
I’d thought “her” was someone else. Trina Chase, the girl the Hargrove family had taken in years ago.
Pretty. Fragile. Conveniently overseas for “medical treatment.”
I’d convinced myself I was just a placeholder. A family approved substitute for the woman Derek actually wanted.
So I ran.
And when running wasn’t enough, I went to Ethan Kellner, Derek’s biggest rival, and let the world believe we were together, because if I was going to burn, I was going to make sure Derek burned too.
Except Ethan had never touched me. I’d never wanted him to. The whole thing was theater, revenge, a performance designed to hurt the man I loved because I was too proud to admit he’d hurt me first.
Lying in that hospital bed, watching Derek’s careful hands turn an apple into a rabbit, I understood something with devastating clarity:
I had been wrong about everything.
The conversation I’d overheard? His friend was talking about me.
Are you really not going to wait for her to come around? She’s still young. She might not understand what this engagement means yet.
Derek hadn’t been pining for Trina. He’d been waiting for me.
And I’d thrown it all away over half a sentence heard through a door.
So when the memories returned, I made a choice. I kept my mouth shut. I let him believe I was still the blank, adoring, amnesia stricken wife who called him “honey” and clung to his arm and told him she loved him with zero baggage.
Because for the first time in years, he was looking at me without hatred.
And I wasn’t ready to give that up.
Everything came to a head outside a restaurant in River Oaks.
We ran into Ethan Kellner. And his sister Laura.
Laura spotted me first, and her voice could have stripped paint.
“Well, well. The barnacle. I told you she’d crawl back.”
She looked me up and down, then turned to Ethan with a smirk.
“No wonder she’s not answering your calls, brother. She couldn’t land you, so she went back to chewing old grass.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Laura, did you skip brushing your teeth this morning? Your mouth smells like a dumpster.”
Her jaw dropped. She wasn’t used to me fighting back.
“I always said you were trash. Running around on my brother and now—”
She didn’t finish.
Derek stepped forward. No expression. Just presence, and the kind of quiet that makes the air pressure change.
“And now what?”
Laura choked on her own words.
But Ethan, ever the opportunist, jumped in with the performance of his life.
“Sarah.” His voice was velvet. Rehearsed.
“I know you’ve lost your memory. That’s okay. I’ll give you time. Come with me. I’m the one you actually love.”
Derek laughed. It was not a kind sound.
“Follow you? What exactly are you?”
I shook my head and stepped behind Derek’s back. The motion was instinctive, and I saw the way it landed. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. His jaw unclenched the smallest amount.
Ethan kept going.
“Sarah, you told me once that you’d only ever love me. You forgot that too?”
I had never in my life said those words to Ethan Kellner.
The hand holding mine went slack.
“Sarah.” Ethan smiled, victorious.
“We watched the sunrise together at Mount Bonnell. We shared a hot spring bath. You told me you couldn’t stand Derek, that the engagement was just business, that you ran because you couldn’t face a lifetime with him.”
Every word was a lie. We’d gone to Mount Bonnell for a business survey with a team of twelve people. I’d never shared so much as a cup of coffee with him alone.
Then he delivered the kill shot.
“If you don’t believe me, Sarah, you have a butterfly shaped birthmark on your left shoulder blade. Don’t you?”
I went cold.
How did he know that?
The birthmark was real. I didn’t always remember to cover it. Anyone close enough could have seen it over the years, at a pool, at a gala with an open back dress. It didn’t mean what Ethan was implying.
But the damage was done.
Derek’s hand released mine.
The car tore through the Houston streets like a bullet.
I fumbled with my seatbelt, words tumbling out of me in a panicked stream.
“He’s lying. Every word of it. He’s trying to tear us apart. Honey, don’t believe him. Maybe I had some connection with him before, but it was only to make you angry. I never felt anything. I don’t even know him. I was wrong. I know I was wrong.”
Silence.
“Derek, please. Slow down. I’m scared.”
The brakes screamed. My body slammed forward against the belt and snapped back.
When I opened my eyes, his were red.
“Before you lost your memory,” he said, each word measured like a countdown, “you threw everything away for him. No engagement party. No me. Sarah, maybe I was wrong. I shouldn’t have used your amnesia to keep you. I can’t survive you walking away from me again.”
“No.” I was sobbing, reaching for him. “No, that’s not what happened.”
He flinched away from my hands.
Ice.
“I never liked him!” I screamed.
“He made it all up! From start to finish, I only ever loved you! It was YOU. You’re the one who gave up on me first. You made me think I was just a substitute, a backup plan. I loved you so much it was killing me. I messed up. I know I messed up. Honey, please. Hold me. I only love you. For the rest of my life, I only love you.”
He looked down at me.
“Is that so?” Flat. Detached.
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
I went still. Then I wiped my face and said, “Come with me.”
I drove us to my old apartment. I punched in the door code from memory, forgetting, in my desperation, that a woman with amnesia shouldn’t know a six digit passcode.
Derek noticed.
I didn’t care.
I pulled him through the apartment. “Ethan said I lived with him? Look. Everything here is mine. My clothes. My books. He’s never set foot in this place.”
Derek nodded slowly, then pointed at a tall cabinet in the bedroom. “What’s in there?”
I froze. Stepped in front of it.
“Why can’t I see?”
“It’s nothing important.”
“Then you won’t mind.”
He reached past me and opened it.
Inside were rows and rows of gift boxes. Unwrapped. Meticulously organized. All men’s items. Watches, cufflinks, cologne, ties, a leather journal. Dozens of them.
“Who are these for?” His voice was barely audible.
The humiliation of being exposed burned my face scarlet.
He pretended to realize.
“Oh. For Ethan, right?”
“THEY’RE NOT FOR HIM!”
I shouted through tears.
He picked up a stack of letters from the top shelf. Opened one. Read aloud.
“Derek, even though we’re over, I need to ask you. Did you ever feel anything for me at all?”
He opened another.
“You bastard, Derek Hargrove. I hate you so much I could die.”
Another.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so impulsive. I shouldn’t have run. I shouldn’t have tried to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Each one was crossed out. Rewritten. Crossed out again. Never sent.
I collapsed against him, crying so hard no sound came out.
“Stop reading,” I begged.
“You can’t do this to me. Those gifts are for you. Every single one. The letters are mine. My mistakes. My regret.”
He held me.
“I know,” he said softly.
“You don’t know anything,” I sobbed.
He laughed quietly.
“You’re right. I don’t.”
Then, barely a whisper: “I’m sorry I found out so late. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
He sat me on his lap and held me until I stopped shaking.
“When did you remember?” he asked.
I stiffened. “Remember what?”
“Sarah.” He tapped my nose. “You punched in the door code. You wouldn’t let me open the cabinet. You know what’s in those letters. When exactly did your memory come back?”
I stared at him.
He looked back at me, and for the first time, there was no darkness in his eyes. No edge. Just warmth. Wry, patient, exasperated warmth.
“You did that on purpose,” I whispered.
“In the car. The anger, the speech about letting me go. You were pushing me to crack.”
He didn’t confirm it.
“If I hadn’t,” he said calmly, “when would I have ever gotten inside this apartment to collect my gifts and love letters? Hmm, wife?”
One word. Wife.
My face caught fire.
I hit him. He caught my wrist, pulled me close, and his voice went serious.
“Being angry at Ethan was real. He’ll pay for every lie he told tonight. But letting you go?”
He pressed his forehead to mine.
“Never. I told you. There are no second chances. You’re stuck with me.”
“And Trina Chase?” I asked.
He almost rolled his eyes.
“You heard half a conversation through a wall and built a whole conspiracy theory. My friend was talking about you. He asked if I was still willing to wait for you to grow up. I said no, because I was done waiting. I was going to tell you I loved you that night. At the engagement party. And then you ran.”
I stared at him.
“Trina had a crush on me,” he continued.
“My parents dealt with it. Sent her abroad. That’s the whole story. She never came back, and I never wanted her to.”
The silence between us was so full it hummed.
“I was so stupid,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“I ruined everything.”
“You tried.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
He kissed the corner of my mouth.
“I’ve known for a very long time. I was just waiting for you to stop running long enough to say it to my face.”
I hit him again. He let me. Then he pinned my wrists above my head and looked at me with an expression that was half threat, half prayer.
“Next time you even think about pulling something like this, I will lock you in this house and throw away the key. You won’t take a single step outside without me. You understand?”
I pretended to tremble.
“You’re terrifying.”
“Sarah.”
I stretched up and kissed him, smiling against his lips so wide it hurt.
“Husband,” I said.
“My husband.”
He closed his eyes and held me like the world was ending and beginning at the same time.
“Say it again.”
“Husband. My husband. My only one. Forever.”
And this time, neither of us was pretending.