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Huh? Is this a confession?
His genuine smile took me by surprise, and I quickly shrugged all of my concerns off my mind. I grasped
his hand and nodded as a tiny smile played on my lips.
…
After spending another fortnight at the hospital for a series of therapies, the doctor finally agreed to
discharge me from the hospital.
As it was early winter, the weather was just about right.
I put on a jacket over my patient gown and took a seat next to Marcus, who was in the driver’s seat.
Irked by my hair that was shoulder-length, I ran my fingers across it, drooping it behind my shoulders
when the car was brought to a halt at the traffic light.
It took a little longer than usual for the traffic light to turn green. Bored, I wound down the window to
survey the surroundings that felt familiar yet odd at the same time. “Have I always been in frail health? It
feels like I have made countless trips to the hospital. I can vividly recall this particular route to the
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇthospital..”
Marcus stared at me in the eyes. A few seconds later, he stared dead ahead and said, “I neglected you
and your condition back in the day, but I won’t leave you alone anymore.”
His words felt like a double innuendo, but before I could probe further, he showed no signs to carry on
with this conversation. Hence, I had no choice but to stop poking my nose into his business.
Suddenly, a limousine pulled over by the road. The lavish vehicle caught my attention because of its
ostentatious appearance.
The passenger inside the limousine wound down the window and a mellifluous tone could be heard as a
child yelled, “You’re a fascist who can’t even keep his word! I don’t want to see you anymore!”
It was an adorable sight because the child had uttered harsh remarks that were unbefitting of the image
of a child.
A few seconds later, a little boy who looked about five or six-year-old craned over and tried to jump out of
the car.
The boy had relatively chubby cheeks and his hair styled up, making him seem increasingly mature as
compared to his peers. The checkered suit he had put on made him seem like a miniature version of a
gentleman. He had been blessed with great features, befitting his identity as the owner of the limousine.
As he was merely a step away from sneaking his way out of the car, my heart sank.
Suddenly, a gigantic hand could be seen lifting the little boy’s collar and bringing him back to the car. The
boy seemed like a defenseless prey that had fallen victim to a vicious predator.
When the little boy saw me, his eyes widened in disbelief. “Mommy!”
The man behind the little boy glanced at me and asked rhetorically, “Excuse me, Gregory Hall? Have you
always considered your father a man with bad taste?”
The handsome man had flawless facial features that seemed to be out of this world. His abysmal pair of
eyes seemed to be able to easily intimidate and seduce others according to his will.
Unsure of the reason behind the overwhelming sensation washing over my body, I had a hard time
catching my breath. I could feel my heart sinking as the time flew by. I placed my hand on my heart in an
attempt to catch my breath, yet it seemed to be of no avail. No matter what, I couldn’t tame my
rampaging emotions. In the end, I unwittingly leaned forward.
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Once the traffic light started flickering green, Marcus started the car again, but he soon noticed
something was wrong with me. “Are you not feeling well?”
“No, I’m fine.” I shook my head and lied, not wanting to return to the hospital.
As soon as we got on the move again, I felt so much better and returned to my usual self within a few
seconds.
Perhaps it was one of the aftermaths of transient global amnesia—my emotions were flooding in and out.
After shooting another glance at the limousine, I noticed the other party had headed over in another
direction. It seemed as though our paths would never cross again.
The little boy was probably blessed with an abundance of wealth the moment he was born. He’ll probably
be a renowned figure in the future.
Although I was an amnesiac, I could vividly recall that I wasn’t a member of the upper echelon. When I
recalled the man I saw, I secretly repeated his words in mind.
Have you always considered your father a man with bad taste? What did he mean by that? Do I look
bad?
Most importantly, is that the way he’s supposed to talk to his son?
Can a woman really stand a man with such an intimidating look and an arrogant manner?
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