After My Boyfriend Pretended To Have Amnesia

Jack Roberson had a car accident while taking his little lover out for a joyride. The crash left him with amnesia.

I rushed to the hospital, my heart pounding in my chest. However, just as I reached the door of his hospital room, I heard his voice from within, "I’ve been helping her with her depression for so long and she hasn’t gotten any better. I’m scared one day she’ll just snap and hang herself at home.”

"And about the amnesia? Yeah, I was just faking it. It is a perfect excuse to avoid those sappy walks down memory lane with her. It's too exhausting."

I stopped walking. The words he said sliced through my heart like a knife. I smiled bitterly and lowered my hand, which was about to reach the doorknob.

He was right, I was going to die soon, but, not because I was going to kill myself. It was because I was having a terminal cancer.

——

After a long pause, I was able to calm down, then I pushed the door and walked inside.

Jack's cold eyes met my eyes but he stayed silent.

His icy gaze was like a sharp knife that pierced into my heart.

On any other day, I would have rushed to his side and fussed over him then checked every part of his body for any sign of injuries.

However, today, something inside of me stopped those impulses. I realized that I no longer had the right to do that.

Jack did not need me anymore.

Seeing me stare at him in silence, Jack asked in an annoyed tone, "Who are you?"

His eyes narrowed coldly as he waited for me to answer.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and forced a small smile, trying to appear unfazed. “I ... I’m your wife. We’ve been married for five years.”

Although a bandage was wrapped around Jack's forehead the man still lounged against a white pillow as if nothing was wrong.

Even then, the man looked as handsome and carefree as ever.

If it were not for the small patches of blood staining the bandage, I would have thought Jack was faking his injuries just to mess with me.

“It’s obvious our relationship isn’t great,” he said, his lips curved into a mocking smile. “You don’t seem to care much about me, either.”

Is our marriage of those fake ones?" he asked then let out a faint chuckle.

Hearing his laughter my heart ached and my hand trembled uncontrollably. I shoved them into my coat pockets to hide the shaking, but instead, my fingers brushed against something else. It was the diagnosis slip that I had put in a few days ago.

A wave of sadness and helplessness washed over me as I forced myself to nod stiffly. “Well, you have someone else that you care about.”

When the word left my mouth, both Jack and Logan Waldorf, who sat beside him, froze for a long time.

Logan was Jack's long-time friend. He had been helping Jack cover up his affairs for years. Sensing the awkwardness between us, he immediately laughed it off. “Come on, sister-in-law, stop joking. Who else could Jack care about besides you?”

I took a deep breath, stepped closer to Jack and looked straight into his eyes.

"Jack," I called out softly. "Do you really not recognize me?"

For a brief second, panic flickered in Jack's eyes, but he quickly looked away. A hint of irritation crept into his voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember who you are.”

“If you really are my wife, I’ll compensate you, whether it’s money or something else, it’s up to you.”

"However, if you expect me to start caring about a stranger ... I’m afraid I can’t do that," he said hauntingly.

Good. Very good. A stranger, huh? Is this how he sees me now?

I lowered my gaze and stepped back.

“Then let’s get a divorce. I don’t want to stay married to someone who doesn’t love me," I said calmly.

I turned away. I did not want him to see the tears that welled up in my eyes.

After all these years, this was where Jack and I had ended up.

“No!” he said in a loud voice.

His unexpected response made me whirl around. There was a disbelief on my face. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of anger in his eyes, but just as quickly, his expression returned to its usual coldness. He shrugged casually and said, “We’ll talk about divorce when I get my memory back.”

“There’s no rush.”

My heart sank.

By the time he “got his memory back,” I might already be gone. From divorcee to widow ... what a cruel joke.

“Do whatever you want.” I turned to leave, but just as I grabbed the doorknob, something occurred to me.

“Oh, by the way, since you probably don’t want to live with a stranger, I’ll move back to the house in West City.”

I opened the door, ready to walk out.

“Wait. West City, isn’t that ...?” Jack was about to say something but trailed off.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

West City was an old, rundown neighborhood from decades ago. The place was notorious for its poor environment and terrible safety.

However, it was also the only thing my parents had left me before they passed away.

Jack, with his current amnesia act, wasn’t supposed to know these details. So, he wisely stopped himself from saying it.

I didn’t bother explaining myself to him either. Without another word, I walked out of the hospital room.

As I turned around the corner of the hospital hallway, a girl in a white dress blocked my way.

"Lucy, please don't be mad at Jack. It was me who forced him to go for a ride," Ivy Langley pleaded. Her eyes had turned red. "I didn't know that we would be involved in an accident that caused him to his memory about you …."

"Okay, okay …. Stop your acting. I'm not standing in your way," I said irritably, waving her off before walking around her.

Ivy was a girl Jack saved a few years ago during one of his missions. At the time, Jack mentioned to me how much Ivy reminded him of me, the girl that he had crushed on during high school. According to him, I was a shy, quiet girl, with that intoxicating air of mystery.

However, after all these years, the mystery had worn off. What remained between Jack and me was only boredom and indifference.

I returned to the house where Jack and I had lived together for almost ten years. Not wanting to risk running into him if he sneaked back from the hospital to make trouble for me, I hastily packed a single suitcase. After all, when you died, you could not take anything with you.

Besides, I only had two months to live on this earth.

So, I reckoned this much luggage was enough for me.

"This time, I won’t come back," I murmured to the empty house.

No one replied. No one asked me to stay. And that was fine, at least I wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving.

The old apartment in West City was a bit run-down, but I had it cleaned monthly. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to live, but it would do.

As soon as I made my bed, my phone rang.

"Lucy Goodman, why didn't you come to my office this week?" Dr. Robertson's cheerful and relaxed voice came through the line, without a trace of frustration or anger in it, "I thought you were going to come and I waited for you all afternoon! When we meet, you owe me a coffee for standing me up."

"How about tomorrow? Are you free?" I replied. "I’ve got some things I need to discuss with you."

The next afternoon, I arrived at the café thirty minutes in advance than we agreed on. As so happened the Sunshine High School across the street was on the break. The students in uniform in groups of two or three were gossiping about celebrities and complaining about their teachers. I overheard their chatter and thought of something I’d once heard, when life gets tough, we start to long for the past.

This café used to be a simple breakfast joint. Back in high school, I ran into Jack here twice. The first time, it was shortly after I started school and I saw him surrounded by a group of students. It felt like I was watching a monkey in a zoo.

Later, a friend told me that Jack was a legendary senior at Sunshine High School. The second time I saw him was in June of my sophomore year, right after he’d taken the college entrance exam. He dropped a letter in front of me as I was eating my dumplings and then walked away without a word.

A year later, I secretly changed my college preference to the city where Jack was studying. When he saw me with my suitcase on campus, he laughed and cried like an idiot.

"Sorry for waiting for so long, Senior," I said while beaming at him in his arms.

"I’d wait ten more years if I had to," he promised, his eyes were bright and firm.

However, in the ten years that followed, four years of college and five years of marriage, the promise was finally broken.

"Lucy," a gentle voice brought me back to the present.

"Sorry for the long wait," Dr. Robertson smiled, then put several delicate boxes of cake in front of me. "I picked these up for you. You mentioned that you liked the cake from this place before."

"Should I order every coffee on the menu to make it up to you?" I joked.

"Oh, no thanks! I don’t want to stay up all night. A good night’s sleep is the foundation of a healthy life." Dr. Robertson laughed. "Try this one, they said it's their most popular one."

He handed me a small spoon. I took it, scooped a piece and tasted it.

"Not bad," I said, though pain roiled in my stomach. I was used to it by now.

I stared at the pretty cake while wondering how to begin the conversation.

Dr. Robertson had been my psychologist for the past six months. The first time I went to his office, I was so far gone that I could barely string a sentence together. He sat with me in silence for hours, then drove me home. At that time, Jack was leaving in a mission for almost half a year. I was alone, like an island about to be swallowed by the sea.

I didn’t dare burden him with my struggles. However, when faced with the choice between life and death, I chose not to break his heart.

I was afraid he would come home from his mission and find my cold, lifeless body. I wasn’t afraid to die. It was just I was afraid of making Jack sad.

How pathetic was that, right?

Up until yesterday, I had thought that even if Jack was tired of me and having an affair with Ivy, he would still mourn my death.

However, that was a pipe dream. He told his friend that he feared I would hang myself at home.

It was at that time I realized that no one in this world really cared about me.

However, that was fine too. I could leave this world without any guilt.

"Dr. Robertson, I think we’ll need to end our consultation sessions a little early," I said as I set down my spoon and pulled a diagnosis report from my coat pocket.

"The cakes are probably delicious, but I can’t really taste them anymore. I’m sorry for wasting your kindness."

Dr. Robertson's expression froze for a moment, then his head snapped up to look at me.

"Have you gone for a second opinion? Maybe it’s a misdiagnosis. I know some specialists, that can help you. I can take you right now!" He started to stand up.

"It’s not a misdiagnosis," I said firmly and reached my hand across the table to stop him.

After talking for a while, I managed to make him sit down again.

We sat in silence for a while until a familiar voice broke the tension.

"Lucy, what are you doing here?"

I looked up only to Jack, who was glaring at me and Dr. Robertson.

"So, this is why you want a divorce. You’ve already found someone else," he sneered. "Well, I won’t grant it. Forget about the divorce!"

Fury surged through me. I stood up abruptly and grabbed his collar.

"Jack, look behind you. Who’s flaunting their affair for everyone to see?"

I pointed at Ivy, who stood awkwardly in the background. My hands were trembling uncontrollably.

"You’re out of line, Lucy! There’s nothing between me and Ivy!" Jack snapped as if I were the one causing trouble.

"I don’t want to see you," I said, letting go of his collar and sinking back into my chair, defeated.

"Who is he?" Jack demanded, his hands on the table, his voice cold.

"My psychologist. I asked him to meet so I could end our sessions. Satisfied?" I replied, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

"Give me your phone," Jack ordered, then reached out his hand to take my phone from the table because he did not trust me.

At that very moment, I snapped and lost my sanity.

I picked up my cup of coffee and hurled it at his face, ice and all. Before he could react, I slammed the empty cup onto his head.

"Jack! You’d better forget me for real this time! Or I swear I’ll drag you to hell with me!" I yelled.

Jack grabbed my collar angrily. The veins in his arms were clearly visible.

Once, those strong arms had held me close and his mouth kept assuring me over and over, "Lucy, you have me. I’ll always be by your side."

However, I did not need anyone anymore.

A place to come home to was a lie. In the end, all a person could only have were himself.

I did not know when Aston had stepped in and positioned himself between me and Jack, to separate us. Meanwhile, a couple of store employees rushed over to hold Jack back.

I tugged at Aston's sleeve and shook my head, silently asking him not to say anything.

"You're crazy," Jack spat and pointed at me. His teeth clenched in anger.

How easy it was for a man to turn love into hate.

I let out a bitter smile as a wave of nausea churned in my stomach, then rose to the surface. As soon as a cough escaped my lips, I could hear a gasp of surprise from people around us.

"What's wrong with you?" Jack asked in surprise.

He stood there frozen. His gaze flickered from the fresh blood on the floor to me.

He frowned. There was hesitation and concern on his face.

Seeing this I scoffed, "You made me so angry I coughed up blood. Now leave, or you might be the death of me."

At that moment Jack realized that some people had started recording him on their phones. He stared at me for a few seconds and then said, "I have things to do. You should go to the hospital and get checked out. If your psychosomatic symptoms are this bad, I'll help you find another therapist later."

I just waved my hand dismissively to urge him to leave.

After he left, I sat back down. Aston looked worriedly at me. "Have you decided on a treatment plan?"

I shook my head.

"You know, I know a specialist in Saint City …" Aston began, but before he could finish his word, I cut him off with a tired sigh.

“I don’t want to go that far. I only have a few months left. I’m not interested in making the effort.”

"Dr. Robertson, I know you mean well. For that I thank you," I said and gave him a weak smile. "However, I really don't need it."

However, Aston was too persistent so after several days of coaxing, I finally relented and started chemotherapy at a local hospital.

On the first day of chemotherapy treatment, I regretted it.

The sharp, relentless pain crept through my veins and seeped into every nerve. My body trembled uncontrollably because of the pain. It was unbearable.

“I can’t do this. I can’t.…” My voice was hoarse and it felt like there was an iron block lodged in my throat, I could feel the metallic taste of blood coating my mouth.

I lay weakly on the hospital bed. I forced myself to get up. However, before my feet touched the ground and was able to myself, in the next moment, dizziness came over me.

I could hear the panicked shout of a nurse nearby.

The floor was so cold. It felt as if I was lying in a coffin made of ice.

I wondered why I agreed to go through this torture when I was going to die anyway.

When Aston arrived, I was in the middle of pulling the IV needle out of my hand. I dropped the needle without a second thought and then used the IV stand to pull myself up.

“Dr. Robertson, I know that mental health can affect treatment outcomes,” I said flatly. “Do you really think, with my current state of mind, this treatment will do any good?”

Aston looked heartbroken. He was about to say something but he could not bear to say it.

“Everyone has their own fate,” I said softly. “Please, stop worrying about mine.”

In the end, Aston drove me back to my home in West City. Before I got out of the car, he took my phone and set his number as my emergency contact.

“This neighborhood is a bit old. If anything happens, you can call me anytime,” he said.

I nodded and thanked him.

I was on the verge of collapsing when I arrived. However, as soon as I inserted the key, I felt something was wrong.

Someone had opened the door.

I became alert. When I was about to pull the key quietly and run downstairs to call the police, the door creaked open from the inside.

I instinctively tried to bolt, but a hand shot out from the doorway and grabbed my arm in an iron grip.

“What’s the rush? Are you feeling guilty? I saw you come back with that doctor.”

Jack yanked me inside like I was nothing but a rag doll, then tossed me onto the sofa. Pain shot through my back as my bones slammed into the hard edge of the couch.

He ignored my pain expression.

"Spit it out. When did it start? How far have you gone with him?"  His voice dripped with icy anger as he braced his arms on either side of me.

“I told you, he’s just my therapist!” I snapped, my frustration bubbled inside of me as I kicked wildly at him. I was too desperate wanting to escape his suffocating presence.

Jack's expression darkened. He reached for my arm, ready to pin me down, but froze when he saw the dark bruises staining my skin.