Chapter 1
When my husband, Arthur Baxter, woke up after the car accident, he didn't call my name.
He gripped the bed railing, pale-faced, and asked, "Where's Callie?"
I held our daughter, Ella Baxter, and stayed by his bedside for three days and nights.
As soon as Ella saw Arthur open his eyes, her face lit up, and she hurried over, calling out in her sweet little voice, "Daddy."
The next second, Arthur jerked back as if he'd seen something disgusting. "Don't touch me."
He frowned at me, his eyes filled with unfamiliarity and annoyance. "Who are you? Whose kid is this?"
The doctor said Arthur had selective amnesia.
Before I could cry, half an hour later, I overheard him laughing with his mom in the fire escape behind the hospital wing.
Arthur said, "Faking amnesia is a lot more decent than admitting I cheated.
"As soon as she gives me the fund authorization, I'll divorce her right away."
Suddenly, I wasn't sad anymore.
I wiped my tears and headed back to the hospital room.
Callie Dawson was sitting by Arthur's bedside, her eyes red, looking like a wronged ex-lover.
I walked over, took off my wedding ring in front of everyone, and slipped it into her hand.
I smiled gently. "Since he only remembers you, from today on, you can take my place as Mrs. Baxter."
*****
The hospital room was so quiet that I could hear the steady drip of the IV.
I stood by the bed, holding Ella in my arms, frozen in place.
Arthur had just woken up, his face ghostly pale, but his eyes instantly found their focus on Callie.
"Callie." His voice was hoarse as he reached out for her.
Callie's eyes were red as she walked quickly over, holding flowers, her hand finding Arthur's almost without thinking.
"I'm here, Arthur," she said softly.
Arthur's mother, Clare Baxter, stood nearby, wiping away tears, as if a weight had finally been lifted off her shoulders.
Ella, cradled in my arms, was frozen in shock.
She was dressed in her bunny pajamas, the ones I grabbed in a rush that night. She'd been so sleepy that she could barely keep her eyes open.
But the moment she saw Arthur awake, she instantly perked up, reaching her little hands toward the bed, eager to get closer.
"Daddy, I'm here to see you," Ella chirped.
But Arthur instinctively recoiled, his brows knitting in discomfort. "Don't let her touch me."
Ella's little hand hung in the air, frozen.
The sparkle in her eyes dimmed bit by bit.
She turned to me, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb anyone. "Mommy, why doesn't Daddy want me?"
My throat felt stuffed, so tight that I couldn't say a single word.
The doctor came in to check on Arthur as usual and started asking him the basic questions.
He asked, "What's your name? How old are you? What year is it? What's your job?"
Arthur answered every single one.
But when it came to questions about his family, he put a hand to his temple, stayed quiet for a long time, and finally said only one name. "Callie."
The doctor turned to me and hesitated.
He said, "Ms. Hayden, the patient most likely has selective amnesia.
"This condition is usually triggered by a strong shock. It's hard to tell when he'll recover."
Clare's eyes grew teary as soon as she heard that.
"Will there be any lasting effects?" she asked.
The doctor offered a few words of comfort, advised them to let Arthur rest and avoid any stress, and then left the room.
The room fell silent again.
Arthur leaned back against the headboard, and finally, his gaze landed on me.
But in his eyes, there wasn't a hint of warmth between husband and wife, only coldness and irritation.
Arthur frowned. "Who are you? Do we know each other?"
Before I could answer, Ella wriggled free from my arms, stood on her tiptoes, and held up the crumpled drawing she'd been clutching.
"Daddy, look. I drew this. It's us, our family," she chirped, her voice bubbling with excitement.
She'd drawn it at home a couple of days ago.
There was a wobbly sun, two grown-ups holding hands with a little girl whose hair was pulled up in a bun.
She'd been waiting for Arthur to wake up so she could be the first to show him.
But Arthur glanced at it, his expression icing over as he leaned back, like being called "Daddy" was a slap in the face.
"I said, keep her away from me," he said coldly. "And stop making jokes like this."
It felt like someone had ripped my heart out.
It turned out that he never forgot.
He just wouldn't admit it.
He didn't even try to pretend to care about his own daughter.
Half an hour after Arthur woke up, everyone in the room was fussing over him.
Clare went to ask the doctor what to be careful about. Callie was hovering by his bedside with a glass of water, and nurses were in and out.
It was like the whole floor let out a sigh of relief when the Baxter family's heir finally woke up.
Meanwhile, I stood there holding Ella, like I was an outsider who didn't belong anymore.
Ella buried her face in my shoulder, feeling all hurt and refusing to say anything.
I gave her a gentle pat and tried to soothe her in a soft voice. "Ella, be a good girl, okay? Mommy will get you a cake."
She nodded.