A Past That Doesn't Exist
1284 Words
Chapter 3- A Past That Doesn't Exist
“What!?” I muttered under my breath
Marcus stood silently in front of me while Eliora watched me with obvious confusion.
“What is it?” She asked
I didn't answer immediately. My eyes scanned through the tablet again.
The tablet contained the results of the quick background check Marcus had run.
There was barely anything there.
No childhood records.
No family history.
No school history.
Nothing before three years ago.
Which was strange enough.
I looked back at her.
“What?” She muttered
I lowered the tablet slowly.
My eyes moved from the screen back to her face.
“According to this,” I said calmly. “You have no records until three years ago.”
She furrowed her brows.
“What do you mean?”
“There are no records of you before that.”
She stared at me.
“No school.”
I took a step closer.
“No family.”
Another step.
“No employment history.”
She looked away slightly.
“Nothing.”
There was a long silence.
“That's not my fault,” she said quietly.
“Maybe not.”
My gaze sharpened.
“I told you already. I lost my memory.”
“Yes.” I said. “But amnesia doesn't erase every trace of a person from existence.”
Her jaw tightened.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Don't you still remember anything?” I demanded
Suddenly a sharp pain passed through her eyes.
Fragments of something flickered through her mind.
“Are you okay?!” I said stepping closer
“I think I do remember,” she muttered slowly.
“Okay…” I said. “Just relax.”
“I woke up with partial amnesia. They told me my identification was destroyed in the crash.”
My eyes narrowed.
“And you just accepted that?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” She replied.
Her voice had a trace of anger and frustration now.
“I had no memories, no past or anything related to me.”
I studied her carefully.
Every reaction.
Every movement of her eyes.
Every shift in her reaction.
Nothing.
No hesitation.
If she was lying…
She was extraordinarily good at it.
Something about her story felt too clean.
Too convenient.
I stepped closer.
“So you built a new life.”
“Basically.”
“And you never tried to investigate your past?”
She looked away briefly.
“I did.”
Her fingers brushed nervously against her sleeve.
“But there was nothing much to find.”
I stared at her intently.
“The hospital you claimed treated you?”
“Yes?”
“What was the name?”
She hesitated.
“Crane hospital.”
“Crane hospital?” I asked
“Yes,” she said quickly. “That was where I woke up.”
I watched her carefully.
“Then tell me the name of the doctor who treated you.”
She hesitated.
For a moment I thought she would say she didn't remember.
Then she spoke.
“Dr. Lucas Armand.”
Marcus immediately pulled out his phone.
“I'll start looking.”
“Do that,” I said.
Marcus nodded once before leaving the room.
Now only Eliora and I remained.
She looked at me cautiously.
“I think I should go too,” she said quietly.
She turned to leave.
But my voice stopped her.
“Stay here tonight.”
She blinked.
“...what?”
“Until we figure out who you are.”
She laughed nervously.
“You expect me to stay in a stranger's house?”
I looked at her like the answer was obvious.
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“No way.”
I leaned closer slightly.
“You might be the key to discovering what happened to my wife.”
My voice softened a little.
“And you deserve to know who you truly are.”
She hesitated because deep down I knew she wanted the same answers.
She stared up at me.
Completely stunned.
“Oh.” She muttered
The more I looked at her, the stronger I couldn't control my feelings.
The scar.
The eyes.
The voice.
Everything.
My hand lifted slightly before I could stop myself.
For a brief moment, my fingers hovered near her face.
She froze.
“What are you doing?”
I gently brushed a strand of hair away from her eyebrow.
Revealing the small scar beneath it.
The exact same scar.
A chill crawled down my spine.
“This scar,” I murmured quietly.
“You got it when you slipped in the kitchen during our first year of marriage.”
She stepped back immediately.
“I told you I don't remember that.”
Her voice rose slightly now.
I didn't move.
I simply watched her.
Because something about her reaction felt real.
Too real.
Marcus suddenly entered the room.
“Sir.”
I didn't take my eyes off her.
“Yes.”
“We received the hospital records already.”
“Already?”
Marcus handed me a thin file.
“Yes, sir.”
I opened it slowly.
“The hospital you mentioned,” I said, closing the file slowly.
She frowned.
“What about it?”
“It doesn't exist.”
Silence fell instantly.
Her brows knitted together.
“What do you mean it doesn't exist?”
“I mean exactly that.” My voice remained calm, though my mind was racing. “There is no hospital with that name in the city.”
“That's impossible!”
Marcus spoke quietly beside me.
“I checked the entire medical registry. There is no hospital with that name.”
“What,” she muttered quietly.
“And the doctor?” I turned to Marcus
“Still working on it sir,” he replied
“Okay, go do that.” I said.
Eliora exhaled sharply.
The confusion on her face didn't look fake.
But my mind refused to settle.
Finally I spoke.
“I'll show you your room.” I said calmly.
“Okay,” she muttered, clearly exhausted.
We walked up to the grand staircase in silence.
Her footsteps were hesitant behind me.
I stopped in front of one of the guestrooms and opened the door.
“You'll stay here.”
She stepped inside slowly.
Everything looked untouched.
A large bed near the window.
Elegant furniture.
A vanity covered with perfume bottles and jewelry.
I watched her reaction carefully.
“Does anything seem familiar to you?” I asked.
“No.”
She walked around cautiously.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes landed on something in the dresser.
A framed photograph.
She picked it up slowly.
The picture showed me standing beside Aurelia in the garden.
We were both smiling.
It had been taken during our second anniversary.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
She looked at the photo.
Then at me.
Her face slowly drained of colour.
“That's… that's her.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“This… this can't be real,” she whispered.
I watched her carefully.
“You really weren't exaggerating,” she said slowly
“No.”
“Why do I look exactly like her?”
I didn't answer.
Because that was the same question haunting me.
She stepped back from the photograph.
“Maybe she was… was my sister or something,” she said weakly.
“I investigated Aurelia's entire family before I married her,” I replied calmly. “She had no sisters.”
She looked at the picture again.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
“Go to bed now.” I muttered. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” She replied faintly.
- Writer
