Chapter 1

"I'm your husband. We've registered our marriage."

I stared at the man in front of me, Quentin Oliver, who claimed to be my legal husband, my mind all blank.

Seriously, it didn't ring a bell.

After the car accident one month earlier, I remembered everyone. I didn't even forget Paul Lamb, my primary school classmate.

However, I couldn't recall a thing about this one here, who was said to be my lawfully wedded husband.

But what really blew my mind was seeing all four of our parents sitting in a row, and they all chimed in at once. "That's right. Quentin is your husband. You two are deeply in love!"

I was just stunned. "Seriously, how did I forget just him?"

Quentin, with that ridiculously handsome face of his, looked pretty conflicted. He probably didn't get it either. He let out a sigh, his voice tinged with a hint of hurt. "Maggie, I want to know too. How did you forget me?"

With that, he sat down by my hospital bed and reached out, trying to take my hand.

Honestly, I didn't do it on purpose. I mean, come on—this guy I'd only known for like ten minutes suddenly wanted to hold my hand? My reflexes just made me pull away.

His hand just froze there awkwardly in midair.

The next second, this big guy looked all hurt, and his eyes went full-on abandoned puppy mode.

Quentin said, "So, just because you don't remember me, does that mean you don't love me anymore?"

Excuse me? What kind of question was that?

"But I..." I started, but Quentin jumped in, "We've known each other since we were kids. We were practically joined at the hip growing up. And now you remember everyone else, but you forgot me. Maggie, it breaks my heart that now you won't even let me hold your hand."

Seriously? We were childhood friends? Grew up together?

Man, that really made me feel like a total jerk for forgetting him.

If I'd forgotten everyone, at least it would've been fair. But I even remembered the name of my neighbor's dog, and yet he was the only one wiped from my memory. How did I even begin to explain that?

I bit my lip, steeled myself, and reached out to grab his hand that was still awkwardly hanging in the air. "Sorry... I just haven't gotten used to this yet. Honestly, you feel like a total stranger to me right now. But hey, the doctor said my memory should come back eventually."

His face instantly brightened, all that hurt vanishing in a flash, and he grinned like he'd just hit the jackpot. "Alright, but you better hurry up and remember everything."

Yeah, if I could just flip a switch and get my memory back, I'd do it in a second to end this awkward mess.

After a few more days in the hospital, I finally went home with Quentin.

I remembered having my own cozy little apartment before I got married. But after the wedding, where did we end up living? Quentin wasted no time showing me—a luxury neighborhood where I probably couldn't even afford the down payment if I worked my whole life.

"You bought this house, didn't you?" The moment I stepped inside, with one look at the decor and the location, I knew right away. I tried to help with the luggage, but Quentin just plopped me down on the couch and told me to look around—maybe something there would spark a memory.

I wandered all over the house, checking out every nook and cranny, and finally came back to the living room. I looked at him, pretty sure of my conclusion.

He was hanging up my clothes in the walk-in closet, and when he heard me, he paused and shot me a look, eyebrow raised. "Why do you ask?"

"Come on, with this location and this much space? Not a chance I could ever afford it," I said, no doubt about it.

Quentin finished hanging up the last piece of clothing, then strolled into the bedroom. When he came back out, he was holding the property deed.

"Take a look," he said.

I took it from him, still a bit skeptical, and opened it. And there it was—my full name, Margaret Fields, staring right back at me as the only owner!

I snapped the property deed shut with a sharp "thud," closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths, barely managing to calm the storm of emotions inside me.

"I think I might've forgotten more than just you," I said.

"What?" He looked at me, cool as ever.

"Did I pull off some secret money-making scheme before I lost my memory or something? Otherwise, how could I possibly afford a place this fancy?" Ten million dollars for a house, who would give it away just like that?

Quentin flashed a smile, smoothly snatched the deed from my hand, and said with a laid-back shrug, "Sure, you make good money, but you're still working the same job as before. As for the house, I bought it as a wedding present for you."

He said it so nonchalantly, sounding like he was giving me a lollipop from the convenience store, not dropping ten million dollars on a house.

Right then, the whole "he's my husband" thing suddenly felt fifty percent more legit. Who else but someone hopelessly in love would pull off such a wealthy, love-struck move?

After holding it in for a while, I finally blurted out, "Oh, you're totally lovestruck, aren't you?"

Quentin looked a little taken aback, then laughed. "Lovestruck? Isn't this just what a husband does when he's crazy about his wife?"

Even though it sounded kind of like a humblebrag, I had to admit it warmed my heart.