Chapter 5 #2
“It is my job to take care of you.” The words came out firmer than before, almost defensive.
I slipped one arm into my blazer, then the other. “Well, congratulations. You can retire from the position.”
His eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, his gaze fell to my bag again. “When did you even manage all this?” His voice changed, suspicion creeping in. “Is that why Felicity asked me to take her to the house? She said you wanted some personal things…”
Understanding flashed across his face, followed immediately by anger. “You planned this. You sent me away so you could do this behind my back.”
A short, sharp laugh escaped me. “Behind your back? You make it sound like I was plotting some elaborate escape instead of making a decision about my own life.”
His jaw flexed, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “This isn’t a decision you get to make alone.”
“Funny.” I gave him a pointed look. “It looks like I just did.”
He looked caught between frustration and desperation, his mouth pressing into a hard line as he fought to keep whatever he wanted to say under control. He drew in a deep breath, held it briefly, then finally let it out.
“You can’t go to work.”
I lifted a single brow, keeping my voice unnervingly calm. “Watch me.”
We held each other’s gaze, neither of us willing to give the other the satisfaction of backing down. The tension between us seemed to pull tighter with every passing second.
Then, unexpectedly, the fight left him.
His shoulders sagged, his features losing their edge as frustration gave way to exhaustion. When he spoke again, his voice carried none of its earlier command.
“Alessia, please. Let’s just go home. I can’t let you go to work like this.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re not letting me do anything. This isn’t your decision to make.”
He took a slow step toward me, the anger slipping completely from his face until his expression was almost unbearably vulnerable. When he stopped in front of me, his voice dropped to a murmur. “Don’t go to work.”
His hand reached for mine, his fingers curling gently around it.
The warmth of his touch startled me. “Please.” His eyes held mine, the plea in them impossible to miss.
“Just come home with me,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you. We can talk. We can figure this out. Just…” He swallowed, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles. “Come home.”
There it was again.
That vulnerability I’d glimpsed before. The desperation he tried so hard to bury beneath all that control.
It almost made me hesitate.
Almost.
I slowly slipped my hand from his, watching his fingers fall uselessly to his side.
“No.”
His eyes closed, defeat settling over his features. He gave a slow, resigned nod before reaching for my bag. “Fine. You win.” He slung it over his shoulder and headed toward the door. “But I’m coming with you. I’ll stay until you’re done, and then we’ll go home together.”
I didn’t move. “I’m not going home with you.”
He stopped mid-step and glanced back at me, impatience flickering across his features. “Then Naija can drop you off, and I’ll follow right behind. Happy?”
I shook my head, keeping my voice steady. “You’re not getting it. I’m not going to your home. At all.”
He went completely still. The bag slipped slightly from his shoulder as he turned to face me properly, his eyes widening as he struggled to process what I’d just said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to my apartment.”
Naija and Felicity had made all the arrangements while he was guarding my door, ensuring I had everything I needed to walk out of this hospital.
His brows pulled together. “What apartment?”
“The one I live in?”
He continued staring at me like I’d just announced plans to relocate to the moon.
Then something clicked.
“You mean the apartment you lived in before we got married?” He stopped short. “You told me you sold that place.”
I blinked.
I did?
I shrugged, unable to hide the relief in my voice. “Guess I didn’t.”
At least past me had some sense.
He looked utterly lost, the color draining from his face as he tried to process what I’d just said. “No. You’re not doing that. You’re coming home. With me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You need someone to take care of you, Alessia.” His jaw flexed, the last of his restraint beginning to crack. “You can’t just walk out of here and pretend you don’t need help.”
“Felicity will be there,” I reminded him.
He shook his head immediately. “Felicity has her own life. She can’t be there twenty-four hours a day. She can’t drop everything whenever you need something. She isn’t me.”
“You’re right.”
A flicker of relief crossed his face, far too early.
“She’s someone I actually know.” I let the words settle before adding, “And trust.”
The relief vanished.
His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek jumping as his eyes dropped for a fleeting second before returning to mine. “You can’t just leave,” he said finally, reaching for whatever argument he had left. “I have a say in this.”
Then came the trump card.
“I am your husband.”
This man had exactly one favorite sentence, and he was determined to use it until I either remembered our marriage or developed an allergy to the word husband.
“That reminds me.” I tilted my head. “Did you know I’m a firm believer in destiny? In fate. In signs. All those little cosmic breadcrumbs the universe leaves behind.”
His forehead creased, caught off guard by the sudden change in direction. He opened his mouth to respond, but I lifted a hand to stop him.
“I’m a very big believer. And after being trapped in this room for two weeks, I’ve had plenty of time to think.” I lifted my fingers, counting through my conclusions one by one. “So here’s what I’ve come up with.”
I raised one finger.
“I’ve lost almost three years of my life.”
A second finger followed.
“I have a husband.” I paused, holding his gaze. “A husband who doesn’t love me.”
His reaction was immediate. Pain flashed across his eyes, unmistakable and unguarded, but I refused to let it derail me.
A third finger joined the others.
“I’ve been neglecting my work. We had a fight bad enough that you thought I’d actually pretend to have amnesia just to punish you.” A hollow laugh slipped from me, bitter enough to sting on the way out. “And somehow, even after all of that, I still wasn’t leaving you.”
Because I was in love with you.
Love could make you overlook almost anything.
It could also make you spectacularly fucking stupid.
My eyes stayed locked on his, refusing to give him even the smallest opportunity to look away.
“Then I had the accident. And when I woke up, I didn’t remember you.
Out of everyone, out of everything I could have forgotten…
you’re the one person my mind erased. I could’ve lost a year.
A year and a half. Even two.” My voice softened.
“But no. I lost every memory that had you in it.”
His expression crumpled. Pain flooded his eyes, completely unguarded, each word visibly striking deeper than the last. His hand lifted without thought, his palm cupping my cheek. His thumb traced gently along my skin.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll get them back. We’ll figure it out together. Please, don’t—”
“It was a sign.”
The words stopped him cold.
His thumb stopped moving. He searched my face, trying to make sense of my words.
“There was a reason I forgot you. Maybe some part of me wanted to forget. Maybe I wanted to leave, but I just…” I shrugged. “I wasn’t strong enough.” I held his eyes. “The accident didn’t take my memories from me. It gave them back to me. It gave me the strength to do what she couldn’t.”
I watched his expression shatter, piece by piece, with every word.
“What are you saying?” he finally managed, the words barely audible.
I reached up and gently removed his hand from my cheek. His fingers lingered against my skin for a second before falling between us.
“I’m saying I want a divorce.”