Chapter 1
Five years after I broke up with James Carter, we ran into each other at a family gathering.
It was one of those polite, formal dinners. I was there to pay a New Year visit to my boss. James, it turned out, was his son.
The room fell into an awkward silence when our eyes met. Then we both did what adults do best. We smiled, fake and courteous.
James asked how I had been doing all these years, his tone careful, almost gentle.
I answered just as smoothly, told him my family life was happy.
When the night was winding down and people were starting to leave, he suddenly called out to me.
"Hannah. You look… different," he said.
I just smiled, saying nothing.
The truth was, nothing had really changed.
I just didn't need him anymore.
*****
My husband Maxwell Turner's car was parked outside the yard.
I said goodbye to my boss, turned around, and James was standing right behind me.
"Happy family life?" His eyes slowly scanned my face, inch by inch. His voice dropped. "Doesn't look like it."
I didn't bother responding.
He suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Hannah, it's been five years. Are you done playing games yet?"
I yanked my hand away. "Mr. Carter, please show some respect."
"Respect?" He let out a cold laugh. "You left without a word, abandoned me in Crestmoor. Do you even know the meaning of self-respect?"
His eyes burned with hatred.
Just for a second, I almost thought I was the one at fault.
Staring at him, I suddenly felt this whole thing was just meaningless.
How can someone be so brazen?
I stepped around him and made my way toward the front gate.
Maxwell was already out of the car, holding the front passenger door open for me.
He caught sight of James, paused for a second, then gave him a nod, acknowledging him.
I slid into the seat, and Maxwell closed the door, blocking James from view.
The car started up and drove off, leaving the house behind.
In the rearview mirror, James's figure shrank until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.
My son was sound asleep in his car seat, while my daughter hugged her storybook and whispered, "Mommy, who was that man? He seemed really mad at you."
I gently patted her head.
"Just a stranger," I said.
The next day, I got a call.
It was Oliver Bennett. He and James were my college classmates. A mutual friend.
"Hannah, you're back?" he asked.
"Yeah, I've been back for a few years now," I replied.
There was a pause on the other end.
Then he spoke up, with a hint of accusation in his voice. "You saw James yesterday? He told me about it."
"What did he say?" I asked.
"Don't play dumb, Hannah. I know you're doing well now. Married, kids, the whole picture. But the way you left back then was brutal. James almost lost his life over you. Did you know that?"
My hand paused in midair.
"He got into a car accident," Oliver said. "Less than a month after you left. He was looking for you everywhere, totally out of his mind. Then the accident happened.
"The doctors said he had a brain injury. He lost a lot of memories."
My heart sank.
Lost memories?
"So," I asked quietly, "he forgot how he treated me?"
Oliver sighed. "He only remembers that you two had a big fight and then you disappeared. In his mind, you abandoned him.
"Hannah, it's been five years. He's with Chloe now. Since you're back, just… don't stir things up anymore. Please."
Stir things up?
I hung up the phone and felt sick to my stomach.
So that was it. He forgot.
Forgot everything.
That explained why he could hate me so openly, so confidently.
He forgot all those messages with Chloe, the hotel reservations on his phone, and even how he knelt in front of me, begging for another chance.
How convenient. One car accident wiped his slate clean.
He became the victim, and I was painted as the cold-hearted, ruthless woman.