Chapter 02

That night, I had that "dream" where my heart was pounding like a deer in the headlights and I experienced a joy I had never known before.

Did I cheat on you?

I'm not in love with Clement anymore. I'm in love with someone else?

I tried to remember, but couldn't recall anything about the man in my dream, only to be rewarded with a sharp headache and panic attack.

The next day I woke up with milk and sandwiches ready in the kitchen.

Clement, wearing an apron and carrying a small trowel, tends to the flowers in the front yard.

I stood on the balcony and watched his gentle back with a pang of guilt.

At lunch, Clement saw that I was distracted and asked me what was wrong.

I hesitated for a long time, but I still couldn't hold back and asked, "Clement , tell me honestly, before I lost my memory, did I do something wrong to you."

Clement The smile on his face freezes for half a second and he doesn't speak.

My heart sank as I continued, "Who was that man?"

Clement put down his chopsticks and looked at me with gentle eyes, "Alva, we're in love now, and that's enough."

I saw that he didn't want to talk much, so I stopped talking.

In the evening, I went to my room and flipped through the photo albums, hoping to retrieve my past from them.

I flipped through page after page, realizing that there were very few photos of myself as a child, and that there were more photos after I went to college, mostly of me and Clement.

Quickly, my hand paused.

A photo of a dimly lit bar, Clement and I cuddling and toasting, with a bartender standing at the bar not far away.

Even though there was only a blurry side view of his face, somehow I recognized it instantly, he was the man I had dreamed about last night!

I kept digging and came up with another picture of me and Clement fishing at the lake.

There was a car parked not far behind us that I recognized as being driven by Clement, and despite my memory loss, I had seen photos of the crash site during my hospitalization.

Inside the car was a man in the driver's seat, recognizable, albeit in a small frame, as the man from my dream.

Some blurry images flashed again: me sitting in the passenger's seat, a ballad playing in the car, the man concentrating on driving, me reaching out to feed him fries in an intimate gesture.

I was breathing heavily and my heart was racing.

Who the hell is this man?

I have to figure it out.

The next day, I lied to Clement and said I wanted to go out on my own for a walk to take a break.

I took a trip to the nearest 4S store to investigate the use of the car.

The car was owned by Clement , but until six months ago, the car had been driven and maintained by a man named Alfred.

Suddenly I realized why that man was in the photo at the crash site.

Most likely he's the driver of my house.

In the evening, I came home.

Clement had made a good meal for me, but I had no appetite and was restless.

I ventured a speculation in my mind:

Clement and I don't drive and it's not easy to commute from the suburbs to the city, so we got our driver Alfred to drive us.

After this, maybe something happened, anyway, Alfred and I fell in love, and most likely, Clement found out about us.

Clement fired Alfred, deleted all information about him, and took driving lessons himself.

Who knows, we had a car accident while we were out and I lost my memory.

My stomach lurched at the thought.

Something is clearly wrong between me and Clement, and he's glossing over it, pretending it never happened.

I put down my chopsticks and looked at Clement .

"What, no appetite?" Clement's voice was gentle.

"Clement , there's something I want to ask you. "

"You say."

"Who is Alfred?" I opened the door.

Clement blanched.

I pressed, "Was he the family chauffeur before."

Clement is muted, his body tense.

"Did I talk to him ......"

"Enough!" Clement, as if irritated by something, swished to his feet and turned into the kitchen.

I was so freaked out that I didn't move half the time.

Clement, who was just now, seems to be a different person.

All night, Clement refused to communicate with me, and I had a hunch that I had guessed at least part of the truth correctly.

It was late at night when Clement came knocking on my door.

I opened the door and the corners of his eyes were red, like he'd been crying, and he smelled of alcohol.

"You've been drinking?"

Without answering, he wrapped his arms around me and started kissing me fiercely.

I panicked and rushed to push him away, "Clement , don't, don't do this ......"

Clement is so bewildered, it's like he can't hear you.

"Stop!" I pushed him away as hard as I could and slapped him.

He touched his face and looked at me incredulously, "Alva, get it right, I'm your husband, who are you to do this to me?"

"I forgot everything, don't make me ......," I said, a little frightened.

"Yeah, you've forgotten everything but Alfred," he suddenly laughed out loud, his face a very complex agony, "Alva, Alfred is long dead! You forget about him, he'll never come back!"