After My Memory Loss, He Made Me His Lover's Replacement

"Why are you wearing this? White suits you better." Terry Black's raspy voice reached me from behind as l played the piano in the living room, dressed in a dark red slip dress. He had always disliked me playing the piano, insisting it didn't suit me, and especially despised me poring over medical books and texts. He said a doctor's hands should be carefully protected, not occupied with trivial matters. When Terry Black embraced me from behind, his cold scent, mixed with the sharp odor of tobacco, made my chest ache faintly. I lifted my eyes to look at him. He still had the same boyish charm that made my heart race, yet now there was something sinister about him. "Who is Sirena Ferguson?" He visibly stiffened, clearly unprepared for my sudden question. Before I could react, he had already closed the piano lid and stood, pulling me into his arms. Amidst the shifting movements, a faint trace of women's perfume wafted from his collar. His once calm, indifferent eyes now flickered with hints of anger. But within moments, they softened with indulgence as he lightly pinched my earlobe, his voice unreadable. "Which servant was so careless as to make you ask something like that?" I didn't answer him. Instead, I recalled the fragments of memories that haunted me in the dead of night, flickering in the candlelight. Terry Black was my first love-or so he claimed. Three years ago, I lost my memory in an accident. When I woke up, Terry Black had brought me here. It wasn't protection. It was imprisonment. He would tirelessly recount our first meeting and how we fell in love. He could list, one by one, all the things I supposedly liked, though in truth, I didn't care for any of them. I didn't like the roses covering the courtyard, nor did I like the plain white pleated skirts. He never spoke of my friends or my past, only saying it was better if I forgot. Undeniably, he took great care of me- perhaps, as he said, we were once the couple everyone envied. Because, aside from freedom, he granted me everything 1 could ask for. I was like a doll in a display case, there for him to admire, to control. I couldn't leave, and I couldn't escape. “Terry Black, do you think you can keep her trapped forever?” "Your grandpa wants to see you. Go home today...” The woman's makeup was flawless, but her smile was twisted and menacing. She swayed gracefully as she entered my line of sight, stirring deep, buried memories within me. Her red dress clung to her, revealing a hint of her perfect figure. The room was filled with the scent of gardenias, loudly announcing her identity. Sarah Ferguson. The woman who had haunted my dreams more than once, turning them into nightmares. Because of her, I would sometimes remember the burning cigarette tips and the mocking stares of others. The scars that cannot be hidden on my chest told a story of a past no one had ever spoken of. It wasn't a dream-it was reality, my past. A sharp pain shot through my head, so intense that I couldn't make sense of her words. Instinctively, I wanted to get as far away from her as possible. It wasn't until I reached my room, locked the door behind me, and collapsed to the floor that I felt a sense of relief. I tried to reach for the warm water on the table, but my trembling body refused to move. I think I might be sick. Even though I studied medicine, I couldn't heal myself. From downstairs came the sound of a chair being kicked over, followed by the slamming of doors and the sharp screams of a woman. I couldn't make out what they were saying. All I could think of was that my dog was still downstairs. Before I could open the door, Terry Black knocked softly, holding a cup of freshly warmed milk. “Sirena, it's me.”