After Losing His Memory, He Begged My Forgiveness Novel Chapter 4 – The apartment door closed behind Lily, leaving her stuck with John standing uncomfortably in her living room. He wasn’t wearing his hospital clothes anymore – now he had on old sweatpants and a MIT sweatshirt she forgot he left there long ago. Seeing this made her feel emotional.
“Mommy?” a little voice asked behind her. Lily turned to see her daughter holding her favorite stuffed rabbit, Mr. Bun. “Why is he here?”
John’s breathing changed. He started to step forward but stopped when Lily gave him a sharp look. “I…I just wanted to see you both,” he said quietly.
The little girl hid her face against Lily’s leg. “I don’t like him.”
Lily touched her daughter’s hair gently. “Go play in your room, sweetheart. I’ll come tuck you in soon.”
As the child ran off, John’s shoulders dropped. “She really hates me.”
“You gave her many reasons to,” Lily said, walking to the kitchen. She wanted space between them, wanted the kitchen counter as a barrier. The sound of the floor told her John was following.
He stopped at the kitchen door, holding onto the frame. “Tell me what I did. Please.”
Lily closed the fridge door harder than needed. “You really want to talk about this now?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded hurt. “The doctors say memories might come back faster if I hear things that trigger them. I need to understand why my own daughter gets scared when I move suddenly.”
The microwave clock counted thirty quiet seconds before Lily spoke. “You missed her fifth birthday. You said you had a business meeting. We found you at the Ritz-Carlton with Melissa the next morning.”
John’s face went white. “I wouldn’t—”
“You did.” Lily dug her nails into her hands. “When I asked you about it, you said…” She paused. “‘She’s just a girl. What does it matter?'”
John made a painful sound. He stepped back like someone hit him. “No. No, I couldn’t have—”
The bedroom door opened. “Mommy? I’m scared.”
Lily was already moving. She picked up her daughter and kissed her head. “It’s okay, baby. Just bad dreams.”
Looking over her daughter’s shoulder, she saw John on his knees, crying quietly in the kitchen light. His mouth moved but she couldn’t hear – maybe saying sorry, maybe praying.
“Come on,” Lily said softly, carrying her daughter toward the bedrooms. “Let’s read—”
A loud crash came from the kitchen. Lily turned quickly to see John holding his head, broken glass on the floor where he knocked over a cup.
“John?”
When he looked up, his eyes scared her. There was something different in them – something clear and aware behind the pain.
“I remember,” he whispered.
Then the doorbell rang.
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