After Losing His Memory, He Begged My Forgiveness Novel Chapter 7 – The Man in My Living Room
When Lily woke the next morning, sunlight was slipping through the curtains in long golden stripes. Her daughter was still curled up beside her, clutching Mr. Bun with one arm and the hem of Lily’s shirt with the other.
She stayed in bed a moment longer, staring at the ceiling.
There was a man in her living room. A man she once loved. A man she no longer knew.
She finally got up and walked quietly out of the bedroom.
John was asleep on the couch, curled awkwardly under a too-small throw blanket. One arm was slung over his eyes. The other dangled off the edge, fingers twitching in sleep. The first-aid kit was still on the coffee table. The glass he’d shattered last night had been swept up. Poorly. She noticed a few jagged pieces under the radiator.
There was a note on the table, written in messy, unfamiliar handwriting.
“I’m sorry for the glass. I’m sorry for everything. Let me make it up to her—even if I can’t make it up to you.”
She read it twice before folding it and slipping it into the drawer by the couch. She didn’t know why.
He stirred a little when she walked into the kitchen, but didn’t get up. Lily started making breakfast—quietly. Habit. She boiled eggs. Toasted bread. Cut up fruit. Poured juice.
Her daughter appeared, yawning, in the doorway.
“Is he still here?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
Lily nodded.
The little girl looked annoyed. “Why?”
Lily tried to think of something to say. “Because… he remembers.”
Her daughter frowned. “Remembers what?”
“Enough.”
A pause.
“Can I have two eggs today?”
Lily smiled and nodded. “Sure, baby.”
John finally shuffled in, looking groggy and unsure of himself. He paused at the kitchen door like he was waiting for permission to exist.
Lily didn’t say anything. She plated the eggs.
Her daughter glanced at him, then at her mom. “Can I eat in my room?”
Lily hesitated. “One episode of your cartoon, then back out here.”
She scurried off, plate in hand.
John sat across from Lily. He looked terrible—unshaven, eyes puffy. The cut on his forehead had dried overnight. She resisted the urge to check it.
“She won’t even look at me,” he murmured.
“She looked,” Lily said. “She just didn’t like what she saw.”
He nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t either.”
They ate in silence. He didn’t touch the toast.
After breakfast, Lily started gathering dishes. John stood up to help, but she stopped him with a look. “You’re going back to the hospital today.”
“I know.”
He paused.
“Thank you for not sending me away last night.”
“I almost did.”
He gave a small, bitter smile. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
As she loaded the dishwasher, she finally asked, “Do you remember everything?”
“Not everything,” he said quietly. “Just the worst parts.”
She turned to him, arms crossed. “And what are you going to do with that?”
He looked at her—really looked at her. His voice was hoarse. “Try to be the man I should’ve been before I forgot.”
Lily said nothing.
But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t tell him to leave.
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