The wife he forgot, the enemy he married

Chapter 7

Kathie’s POV

The door shuts behind him, and this time, I hear it, not loud, not angry but final. I stand in the living room staring at the wedding mood board spread across the coffee table, cream roses, champagne fabric samples. The venue brochure for the Grand Meridian Ballroom.

Three months until I become Mrs. Bradley James, that’s if she doesn’t ruin it. My phone is still in my hand, when i check his location again.

He had turned it of, he never turns it off, and that makes me connect the dots of what might have caused the change.

Except tonight. “Don’t panic,” I whisper to myself. Panic makes mistakes, strategy wins wars. I grab my coat and set out. His car is exactly where I expected it to be, parked outside her building.

Of course, I sit inside my own car for a full minute, watching the entrance. My heart is beating too fast, but my face in the rearview mirror is calm, he chose me so, so i should at least keep calm.

I am the kind of woman a billionaire proposes to, the kind of woman who doesn’t lose. I step out, the security code hasn’t changed. It rarely does in buildings like this.

Predictable, unlike love. I take the stairs instead of the elevator. I don’t want them hearing it ding. When I reach her door, I don’t hesitate.

I knock once, then harder, still no response so i decided to pound, then the door opens. Bradley stands there. His expression isn’t guilty.

It’s worse, conflicted and then behind him was Angel. Standing too close. “How dare you?” I say before either of them speaks.

“How long have you been lying to me?” he shoots back.

The accusation throws me off balance. “About what?”

“About us.” The word tightens my chest.

“We’re engaged,” I snap. “There is no ‘us’ to lie about.”

He studies me, not lovingly but suspiciously. He was studying me, like he’s measuring truth. Angel says nothing, she just watches. That calm expression again.

It irritates me. “You’re getting married in three months,” I remind him, my voice firm. “To me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know.”

“Do you?” The silence stretches, he looks at Angel. That look, the one he used to give me before the accident, soft, searching. I step in fully, forcing space between them.

“You don’t belong here,” I tell him. He exhales sharply. “I needed answers.”

“From her? Why didn’t you ask me”

“She was there that night.” The words hit like a slap. “What night?” I ask carefully.

“The hospital.” Of course, Angel’s lips part slightly, but she didn’t speak.

“She told me we mattered,” he continues.

I turn to her sharply. “You’re still feeding him that story?”

“It’s not a story,” she replies quietly.

“Stop,” Bradley cuts in. His voice carries authority.

But not certainty, and that gives me hope. “You don’t remember loving her,” I say calmly, looking directly at him.

“No,” he admits.

“And you remember proposing to me.”

“Yes.”

“Then what exactly is the confusion, you should trust yourself and your memory, that’s the answer you need?” He hesitates, and that hesitation feels like a c***k in glass. “I don’t know why I feel…” He trails off.

“Feel what?” I press.

“Pulled.” The word makes my stomach twist. I turn to Angel slowly.

She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t look triumphant, just looks… sad.

And somehow that’s worse. “You’re engaged,” I remind him again, softer this time. “We chose flowers last week. You told me you wanted something simple, Intimate, you promised to give me my dream wedding and marriage Bradely.”

He frowns slightly. “I did?”

“Yes.” The lie slides out smoothly, because if he can’t remember, then reality is what I say it is. Angel watches me carefully, too carefully.

“He needs stability,” I continue. “Not confusion, so stay out of your boss’s relationship, Miss Secretary” I say sarcastically.

“I’m not confusing him,” Angel says.

“Meeting up with your boss at midnight isn’t clarity.” Bradley steps back slightly, tension visible in his jaw.

“This isn’t helping,” he says.

“You’re right,” I agree immediately. “So come home, with me”

Angel’s fingers curl slightly at her side, I see it. I see the flicker of pain she tries to hide, that makes me feel elated, at least she would have a taste of how i feel, whenever they are together.

“You’re marrying me,” I say quietly, stepping closer to him. “Not her.”

His eyes lock with mine, there’s doubt there. But there’s also familiarity. Public and structured familiarity. The kind built on months of routine after the accident. “She’s your assistant,” I add gently. “You’re projecting feelings onto proximity.”

Angel inhales sharply but stays silent. She is quite smart. If she pushes, she loses.

Bradley finally nods once. “I need space,” he says.

My chest tightens. “From who?”

“From everything.” That answer I don’t like.

He walks past me, not toward Angel or me.

Just out, I turn slowly toward her. The apartment feels smaller now.

Quieter, “You think he’ll remember,” I say.

“I’m not asking him to,” she replies.

“Well, your actions says otherwise and, that’s what makes you dangerous.”

She doesn’t deny it. “You should resign,” I tell her calmly.

Her eyes lift to mine.

“No.” The refusal is soft, but firm.

“You’re getting married,” she continues. “If you’re confident in that, I shouldn’t be a threat.”

The audacity. “You’re not,” I lie. But we both know that’s not true.

Because it’s not memory that scares me, It’s instinct, and instinct doesn’t need proof, whatever happened between them, wasn’t something little, even his amnesia couldn’t totally resist it.

As I walk back to my car, one thought settles cold in my chest, He remembers proposing to me, he also remembers our engagement party and the ring.

But when he looks at her… He looks unsettled, he looks at her even in ways he never looks at me, like he is trying so hard to remember her.

And if it does, three months won’t matter, a wedding won’t matter, public image might not even be able to prevent the disaster that might happen. Because some loves don’t live in memory. They live in the body. And his body still reacts to her, I grip the steering wheel tightly.

“No,” I whisper. He chose me, even though he did it, when he has lost his memories but, it doesn’t matter, he chose me is what matters, even if I have to remind him why.