Chapter 2 — The Face He Couldn’t Forget
1257 Words
Ariana’s POV
Morning sunlight spilled through the glass walls of Moore & Co. Interiors, turning the air golden. Ariana stood behind her desk, her eyes fixed on the calendar. Two weeks had passed since she had seen him since that moment outside St. Helena Hospital. The moment she’d looked into Ethan’s eyes and realized he didn’t remember her.
Every day since then had felt like walking through smoke everything looked familiar, but nothing felt real.
She’d tried to convince herself it was fine. That she could move on. But her heart refused to listen.
When her assistant, Clara Bennett, a petite blonde with a cheerful smile, walked in with a cup of coffee, Ariana forced herself to smile.
“Morning, Ari. You’ve got the Harrington Estate project review at ten. And your mom called again,” Clara said, placing the cup down.
“Thanks,” Ariana said softly, wrapping her hands around the cup. “Did she sound… worried?”
Clara gave her a knowing look. “She always sounds worried when it’s about him.”
Ariana looked down. “He doesn’t even remember who I am, Clara. What’s there to worry about?”
“You,” Clara said gently. “You’re still in love with a man who forgot you.”
Ariana didn’t respond. Instead, she looked through the window, her reflection staring back at her composed, elegant, but with eyes that told a story of loss and longing.
She didn’t know why she still kept that framed picture of them taken a year ago at the Hamptons. Ethan’s arms around her, his laughter frozen in time.
Sometimes she caught herself whispering his name, hoping the universe would send him back.
Little did she know fate already had.
Ethan’s POV
The ringing of his phone cut through the quiet of his penthouse. Ethan groaned, tossing aside the blanket. His head still throbbed faintly from the accident weeks ago.
“Yeah?” he mumbled into the phone.
“Morning, sir,” came Lucas Green’s voice — his personal assistant. “You’ve got the Harrington Estate investor review at ten.”
“I’ll be there,” Ethan muttered, rubbing his temples.
“Sir, if I may say—”
“Don’t,” Ethan cut in. “I don’t need a reminder of what I’ve forgotten.”
The line went silent for a moment. “Understood, sir.”
Ethan hung up and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cityscape below. He’d woken up weeks ago with no memory of the last two years. No recollection of the woman everyone said had been his fiancée.
He’d seen her once — outside the hospital. Her eyes had held something he couldn’t explain. Something that hurt.
Who was she to him?
Why did her face haunt his dreams?
He’d asked his mother once. Margaret Sinclair, cold and poised, had brushed it off. “She was just a phase, Ethan. You’re better off.”
But his gut told him otherwise. There was something missing not just in his head, but in his heart.
Ariana’s POV
The conference room was buzzing with conversation when Ariana arrived. Clients from Harrington Group sat around the table. And standing at the far end was him.
Ethan Sinclair.
Her pulse stilled.
He was in a charcoal suit, tall and impossibly composed, as if the world revolved around him. His presence drew every gaze in the room.
She froze at the doorway. Clara nudged her lightly. “Breathe, Ari.”
Ariana walked in, trying to appear calm.
“Mr. Sinclair,” she said, extending her hand.
His blue eyes met hers calm, unreadable. “Miss Moore,” he replied.
No warmth. No recognition. Just politeness.
She forced a smile. “Shall we begin?”
Throughout the meeting, Ariana’s voice remained steady, but inside, her heart was breaking. Every gesture, every look reminded her of the man she used to know the one who once kissed her forehead and called her his peace.
When the meeting ended, Ethan walked up to her. “You were… impressive,” he said slowly, as though the words felt foreign.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I used to know what impressed you.”
His brows furrowed slightly. “I’m sorry?”
“Nothing,” she whispered, turning away.
But as she reached the door, he said her name quietly. “Ariana.”
She stopped.
“I’ve seen you before… haven’t I?”
Her throat tightened. “Yes,” she breathed. “Once upon a time.”
Ethan’s POV
That night, Ethan couldn’t sleep. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat by the window.
Her face replayed in his mind the way her lips trembled when she said, once upon a time.
He didn’t understand why it bothered him. Why his chest ached as if remembering something his mind refused to.
He closed his eyes and flashes came.
A white dress. Laughter under fairy lights. A ring box.
Then screams. Rain. Shattered glass.
He gasped, spilling the drink. His pulse raced.
What was that?
He picked up his phone and dialed Lucas. “Find everything you can about Ariana Moore. Now.”
Ariana’s POV
She couldn’t sleep either.
She stepped out onto her apartment balcony, wrapping her robe tighter around her. The night air bit against her skin, but she didn’t care.
Every time she saw him, it hurt worse — because he looked at her like she was a stranger.
But the truth was, she wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.
She reached for her phone and opened an old message thread.
Ethan 💙: You’re my calm in the chaos. Don’t ever leave me.
Her tears fell before she could stop them.
She deleted the chat. Then stared at the city lights, whispering to herself, “You left me first.”
Ethan’s POV
Two days later, Lucas handed him a folder. “Everything you asked for.”
Ethan opened it photos of him and Ariana filled the pages. Dinners. Vacations. Smiles.
But one picture caught his attention a hospital report dated a year ago. Miscarriage. Patient: Ariana Moore.
His chest tightened.
He couldn’t breathe.
He remembered holding her hand. Her sobbing into his chest. The guilt. The promise he made to never hurt her again.
He stood up abruptly.
“Sir?” Lucas asked.
“I remember something,” Ethan whispered. “She lost our baby.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. “Sir”
Ethan didn’t wait. He grabbed his keys and stormed out of the office, ignoring the flashes of lightning tearing through the sky.
Ariana’s POV
Thunder roared outside as she locked up the studio. Clara had left hours ago, and Ariana was alone, heading toward her car when headlights suddenly cut through the rain.
A sleek black car stopped in front of her.
The door opened.
Ethan stepped out, drenched from the rain, eyes wild not cold, not blank , but alive.
“Ariana,” he said, his voice breaking. “I remember.”
She froze. Her heart pounded in her ears.
Lightning flashed between them.
“What… what do you remember?” she whispered.
He took a step closer, rain pouring down his face. “Everything.”
She trembled. “Then why do you look terrified?”
His eyes darkened. “Because I remember who caused the accident… and it wasn’t random.”
Her lips parted. “What are you saying?”
Ethan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Someone tried to kill me and they wanted you dead too.”
- Writer
