Chapter Two
1067 Words
“Can you believe it, James?” Andrew’s voice was quiet, his eyes fixed on the half-packed bag at the foot of the hospital bed. “She never came. My own wife didn’t even visit me in the hospital.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh that ended in a sigh. “What kind of marriage did we have? Was I that terrible of a husband, or was she a terrible wife?”
James looked up from the papers he was folding, his expression carefully neutral. For days, he had rehearsed answers for questions like these, but none felt right. His brother had lost his memories, not his instincts.
“Don’t let that trouble you, Andrew,” James said finally, forcing a reassuring tone. “You’ve been through enough. Focus on yourself, focus on getting better. You made the right choice deciding to grant her the divorce.”
Andrew’s brow furrowed. “That is a wise choice?”
James nodded slowly, avoiding his brother’s eyes. “Yes. You wanted out too, remember? You weren’t happy, brother. Neither of you were.”
Silence settled over the room, heavy and uncertain.
If Andrew had his memories, he might have known his brother was lying. But right now, the only thing Andrew knew was the strange hollowness inside him, a space that words like divorce couldn’t quite fill.
Before he could question further, the door opened and the doctor stepped in with a bright, practiced smile.
“Mr. Howard,” the doctor greeted, scanning the clipboard in his hands. “Good to see you sitting up. I think we can finally get you out of here today.”
“Out?” Andrew repeated, blinking.
“Yes,” the doctor said warmly. “You’ve recovered well physically. The memory loss is temporary, we expect you’ll regain most, if not all, of it soon, or maybe in a few months, depends on the progress. In the meantime, try to help your brain reconnect the dots. Surround yourself with things you know. Visit familiar places, look through photos, talk to people you trust. Little triggers like that can help wake up what’s sleeping in your mind.”
He turned to James. “And you, Mr. Howard, make sure he doesn’t overdo it. Keep him calm, comfortable, and close to home.”
James nodded. “Of course, doctor.”
Andrew offered a polite smile, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The name of his wife, Grace, echoed faintly in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t place. She hadn’t come. He didn’t remember her face clearly, yet somehow, the idea of her absence stung deeper than he wanted to admit.
***
Home came with the scent of new polish and the hush of wealth.
Andrew stood in the grand foyer of his mansion, gazing around like a stranger. The marble floor gleamed, the chandelier glowed, the art on the walls whispered luxury, but none of it stirred recognition.
“This is… home?” he asked, his voice low.
James nodded. “Yes. You’ve lived here for years. It’s all yours.”
Andrew took a slow step forward. The air felt heavy, charged with echoes he couldn’t name. Every corner seemed to hum with memories just out of reach.
He climbed the staircase, running his fingers along the smooth wooden banister. The house was perfect. Too perfect, almost as if someone had frozen it in time. In his study, he found books neatly arranged, his name engraved on gold plaques. In the bedroom, clothes hung in order, cologne bottles lined the dresser, cufflinks gleamed under soft light.
But the room didn’t feel lived in. It felt… abandoned.
He walked to the nightstand and noticed a silver picture frame. Inside was a photograph of him with a woman, her eyes bright, her smile soft and real. She leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder. He was smiling too, the kind of smile that only love could draw out.
Grace.
The name slipped out like a sigh, and for a moment, something inside him stirred. A flicker of warmth in the cold haze of forgetfulness.
He found himself smiling back at the photograph before he realized it. The feeling confused him, how could a woman he couldn’t remember make his chest ache this way?
He set the frame down carefully, almost reverently, and turned toward the closet.
The plan was simple. Get some rest tonight, visit the office tomorrow, and see if that part of his life at least felt familiar. But when he opened the closet, his gaze was immediately drawn to a flash of color, a deep, ocean-blue tie hanging neatly beside a row of suits.
He reached for it instinctively, his fingers brushing the fabric.
Why this one?
He couldn’t say. But the moment he touched it, a strange warmth spread through him. He could almost hear laughter, light and melodic, echoing faintly in his head. He could almost see himself standing before a mirror, adjusting that very tie while a soft voice teased behind him:
“You know I love you in blue, Andrew. It makes your eyes look kinder.”
The memory vanished before he could grasp it, leaving only a faint sense of longing.
He smiled to himself, shaking his head. “Blue it is, then,” he murmured.
James appeared at the doorway. “You sure you’re all right being here alone tonight?”
“I’ll be fine,” Andrew replied quietly. “It’s my home, right?”
James hesitated. “Right. Just… call me if anything feels off.”
When his brother left, the house fell silent again. Andrew changed into comfortable clothes and lay down on the large bed that felt too big for one person. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and something else, something soft and feminine that tugged at the edge of his consciousness.
He stared up at the ceiling, the room dim except for the moonlight spilling through the curtains.
Somewhere deep inside, a thought whispered.
If I truly wanted out of my marriage, why does being home make me feel so incomplete?
His eyes drifted shut, the photo of Grace still on the nightstand beside him.
It was his first night away from the hospital, and though he didn’t know it yet, the pieces of his lost life were already waiting, ready to collide with his present in ways he could never imagine.
- Writer
