Please Forget Me - Chapter 236

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

I was like a happy puppy seeing the snow, nuzzling my face against his chest, right where his heart beat beneath.

“Am I your heart?”

I asked, unable to help smiling at the answer I wanted to hear.

Just hearing him say I was his heart made my own skip a beat.

“When you weren’t by my side, it was like I was already dead—just stubbornly refusing to die. But now that I have a heart again, if I lost you, I think I’d finally die for real.”

His words thrilled me, but I couldn’t shake my unease. Even now, he refused to hold me close, and instead kept trying to push me away.

“Dana.”

He held my face between both hands, like I was a soap bubble that might burst if he squeezed too hard. He looked deep into my eyes, and though his words were plain, I felt the weight of his heart behind them.

“I was happy.”

It sounded like a goodbye.

“Thank you.”

The softness in his gaze hardened, like he’d made up his mind, like he was steeling himself for death as he pulled away from me.

“I’m sorry.”

As his hands left my face, it felt as if my own heart was being torn out, as if I were falling apart from the inside.

“Killian!”

I flung my arms around him, afraid I’d lose him forever if I didn’t. Desperate, I pressed my lips to his.

“Dana, wait—”

Oh…he actually pulled away from my kiss. That only made me more frantic. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I love you.”

At those words, the tension in his arms went slack.

“No matter what’s going on, don’t forget that we love each other.”

“Ha… That’s what I was about to say. Dana…”

As desperately as I clung to him, he was just as desperate to keep me at arm’s length.

“Why do you love me?”

“….Is that really a question?”

The truth was, I didn’t have an answer. One day, I just woke up to find myself hopelessly, helplessly in love with him.

“Then why do you love me?”

We really were a pair—always answering questions with questions, both afraid of the truth.

“Dana—”

Before he could get another word out, I tried to kiss him again, but he pushed me away once more.

“I’ll love you, no matter what kind of person you are. But you’re not the same. You’re different.”

“What are you talking about? Why would you say something so awful?”

“It’s not awful, it’s just the truth.”

The confession came, as if tearing out his own heart.

“You didn’t love me before.”

“Oh.”

So my memory was right. I felt a mix of disappointment and sadness, but also a strange sense of clarity.

“So what?”

When he finally confessed, I realized: I hadn’t tried to recover my memories to change anything—I’d just wanted to know.

“I love you now. I love the man you are now.”

“You love me because I’m your husband, right?”

“What does that mean? You were my husband before, and you said I didn’t love you then. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Dana, I…”

He seemed just as frustrated, fumbling for words, until finally, looking almost frightened, he squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded softly,

“Dana, please… love me. Not because of anyone else, not for anything else—just for me. Love me because I’m me.”

“Then who do you think I’m loving? Ugh, my head hurts…”

He went from one thought to the next, dodging my questions, refusing to give me a real answer. The only explanation was that he was drunk—hopelessly, confusingly drunk.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”

It was the only clear conclusion I’d drawn all night. So I let him go and stood up.

“Honestly, what are we even doing on such a good day?”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask.”

“Enough nonsense. Go to bed. And tomorrow morning, you’d better apologize for ruining the first day we’re back home together.”

I changed into my nightgown and climbed into bed, glancing over to see Killian sitting on the sofa in exactly the same position, staring blankly at the wall. I threw him a sidelong look as I passed, but didn’t say a word.

I left half the bed empty, waiting, but he never came.

‘I told him to go to sleep. If he doesn’t want to, that’s not my problem.’

I stubbornly closed my eyes, pretending to sleep even though I was wide awake. I listened to the uneven sound of his breathing from across the room, and made myself a promise:

‘If he keeps this up, he’s never drinking again.’

He never used to be like this—was this a new habit? Or had he always had this side, just hidden it until now, only to let loose once we were back home?