Where the hell have you been all this time?
And every hour we spent with each other only reinforced the belief that she was who I hadn’t even known I was looking for.
She wasn’t anything like the women I’d known.
She was confident, but quietly vulnerable. She was extroverted, but introspective. She never met a stranger… but never seemed to let anyone know her.
Except me.
She let me in.
We talked until our jaws hurt.
Laughed until our cheeks ached.
Shared visions.
Made plans.
Got married to solidify them.
And then there was only more fun, more laughter, more joy.
Until the next morning.
And our celebrations had erased it all. I’d never known memory could be such a cruel thief.
But she looked at me like a stranger. Like a complication to deal with, not a choice she’d made.
The worst part wasn’t that she wanted out. It was that she didn’t remember why she ever wanted in.
Something in my chest caved.
Because she was right there in front of me, alive and breathing, and yet I’d never felt a loss so sharp.
I knew she wasn’t running from me, not really. She was running from something she no longer remembered choosing.
Which was why I’d dug my heels in, why I’d refused to sign the papers.
I wanted there to be time for her to choose me again.
Clear-headed.
Inhibitions fully intact.
Because I could live with her anger, but I couldn’t live with her uncertainty.
I wanted aYesremembered.
I wanted her to wake up one morning and realize she wasn’t trapped; she was home.
“What?” Layna asked, looking over at me, smile wide.
“You’re exquisite.”
Her cheeks bloomed.
“You have to think that. You’re stuck with me now,” she said, flashing her ring finger.
