WonNovels

Ethan Jiang fell down the stairs and lost several years of his memory.

When I rushed to his hospital room, I heard him protesting emotionally:

"How could I possibly marry a woman I met through a blind date? Dad, are you lying to me?"

We'd only been married for six months. Looked like we were heading for divorce.

Or so I thought.

But the moment I appeared in the doorway, my amnesiac husband looked up, his breath catching:

"Dad, do you believe in love at first sight?"

1

When I arrived at the hospital room, I could hear heated arguing from inside.

"Old Jiang, you've got to be kidding me. So I took a tumble down the stairs, and suddenly I'm 25 instead of 18, and I'm married?" Ethan's voice was agitated. "I'm in the prime of my life at 25—why would I get married? Did I lose my mind, or did you force me into some arranged marriage?"

My father-in-law, the aforementioned Old Jiang, sounded equally worked up:

"Stop blaming your old man. You were the one who insisted on getting married. I didn't force you into anything. You wanted it or you didn't!"

The conversation inside made me pause mid-step.

When my father-in-law had called me, I'd still been on my way back from a business trip.

He'd stammered through an explanation: my husband of six months had taken a fall down the stairs, hit his head, and couldn't remember anything after age 18.

I'd met Ethan when he was 23.

Which meant the man lying in that hospital room had no memory of me. He didn't know who I was.

"Impossible," Ethan's voice continued. "There's no way. I mean, getting married this young? Tell me—which wealthy heiress did I supposedly marry?"

The Jiang family company was well-known locally. Ethan's great-grandfather had been new money, but by his generation, they'd accumulated real wealth and status.

They were definitely upper class.

And regardless of background, people like them believed in matching social standing.

"She's not some heiress. Your wife comes from an academic family—both her parents are university professors. They're solidly middle class."

Old Jiang paused, then added, almost lazily: "Oh, and your wife is three years older than you. Pretty good-looking, though. You two met through a family setup."

"What?" Eighteen-year-old Ethan exploded. "How could I possibly marry a woman I met through a blind date? Dad, are you lying to me?"

He seemed to touch his face. "I didn't get disfigured, did I? I haven't gotten ugly in the past few years, have I? How did I end up needing family setups?"

"I'm eighteen years old—a virgin, for crying out loud! Just yesterday I was trying to decide between taking the SAT or studying abroad, and now you're telling me I married a 28-year-old woman?" My amnesiac husband voiced his dissatisfaction with this marriage. "Old Jiang, you should've stopped me!"

"When it rains, it pours, and when a son wants to marry, there's nothing a father can do! Didn't I tell you? You were the one who insisted on marrying her. You proposed multiple times. She wasn't even planning to marry you—you practically offered to become a kept man just to convince her!"

Old Jiang twisted the knife further: "And don't think you can act like a teenager just because you lost your memory. You're 25. Dating someone three years older is supposed to bring good fortune. What exactly is your problem with it?"

"I don't care. My 25-year-old self must have been under a spell," Ethan said decisively. "I want a divorce!"

The room fell silent for two seconds.

Old Jiang took several deep breaths, then let out a mournful sigh:

"What did I do to deserve this? I finally got you to grow up a bit, to get married and settle down, and one fall later your brain's scrambled. How am I supposed to explain this to your mother..."

Ethan's mother had died of illness when he was in middle school. Old Jiang had raised his rebellious teenage son alone, never remarrying, never having other children.

I stood outside the hospital room, lost in thought. This six-month marriage was probably not going to last.

No one knew when—or if—Ethan would recover his memory.

After taking a deep breath, I stepped forward anyway.

I pushed open the door and looked inside. Ethan wore a hospital gown, his head wrapped in thick bandages. I couldn't tell how serious the wound was.

Eighteen-year-old Ethan really did carry himself differently from his 25-year-old self.

That youthful quality in his eyes couldn't be faked.

He truly had amnesia.

I was about to speak when I saw Ethan staring at me, his breath catching.

He tugged on his father's sleeve and murmured: "Dad, do you believe in love at first sight?"

2

Ethan stared at me for a long time. Just when I thought he might be remembering something, he still looked confused.

"Dad, who is this?"

He still didn't remember me.

Old Jiang looked at his son's pathetic display and let out a cold snort.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the doctor walked in.

The doctor immediately launched into Ethan's condition:

"The amnesia caused by the concussion will require time to observe and recover. Don't overtax his brain for now. As for when his memory will return, you all need to be mentally prepared."

The doctor explained that Ethan's seven lost years could return quickly, or it might take much longer.

It could be as short as a week or a month, or as long as six months, a year, or even two years.

The human brain was complex. No one could make guarantees.

"Wait, so you're saying I might not remember anything after age 18 for years?" Ethan caught on first.

The doctor was careful with his words: "Don't worry too much. Your case isn't severe. There's a good chance you'll recover your memory. It's just a matter of how long it takes—that varies by individual."

"Dad, did you hear that? If I never remember, you want me to live with a complete stranger?"

The eighteen-year-old was much more emotionally expressive. He said, "That's unfair to both of us. Better to just get divorced now!"

Old Jiang looked at me, wanting to speak but holding back. With the doctor present, he had to restrain himself from yelling at his son.

The doctor said: "By the way, the patient is physically fine. He's been under observation long enough and can be discharged. A family member can go handle the paperwork and pick up his medications."

As my father-in-law made to follow the doctor out, I spoke up: "I'll go, Dad."

"Dad?" Ethan's brain clearly caught on that detail. "Old Jiang, do you have a secret daughter this old? How is that fair to Mom!"

Old Jiang, who'd been exercising patience since his son woke up, finally snapped at being falsely accused: "Ethan Jiang, enough! This is your wife!"

The word "wife" made Ethan freeze like someone had grabbed him by the throat. His beautiful eyes widened involuntarily, his gaze landing on me again.

His expression made it clear this was shocking news.

"My... my wife?" His voice dropped, as if confirming this fact with me and his father.

Ethan was fair-skinned, and if I wasn't mistaken, his ears turned red within seconds.

Old Jiang watched his son's pathetic display and settled in to enjoy the show.

"That's right. The wife you met through a family setup. Weren't you just demanding a divorce?"

Ethan: "..."

He suddenly went mute, lowering his head as if he didn't even have the courage to look at me.

Was he embarrassed? Shy?

I didn't know the eighteen-year-old Ethan. To him right now, I really was a stranger.

I'd barely taken two steps out of the room when I heard Ethan's voice: "Dad, the woman I just fell in love with at first sight—that's really my wife?"

Old Jiang's tone was flat: "No, that's your soon-to-be ex-wife."

"..."

3

After handling Ethan's discharge paperwork, my father-in-law and I took him home together.

For the past six months of our marriage, Ethan and I had been living in the marital home his father had purchased—a penthouse apartment in an upscale neighborhood. Just the two of us.

Old Jiang was in good health and didn't want to live with his son and daughter-in-law.

My father-in-law and I had discussed where Ethan should stay now. I'd suggested letting him recuperate at the family estate for a while, where he'd be more comfortable.

But Old Jiang had insisted:

"Lucy, I know Ethan's situation is putting you in a difficult position. But he can't work right now, and I need to handle the company. I don't have time to look after him at the estate. Better to keep things as they were—maybe if he sees you every day, he'll remember sooner."

Old Jiang's reasoning made sense. Plus, Ethan had stopped demanding a divorce and had gone quiet. So I agreed.

In the car, the driver was driving, Old Jiang sat in the passenger seat, and Ethan and I sat in the back.

I'd spent the past few days in Europe on business, constantly busy. The return trip had been exhausting, and when I'd heard about Ethan's hospitalization, I'd rushed straight to the hospital without even adjusting to the time difference. Now I could finally close my eyes and rest.

Even with my eyes closed, I could feel someone's gaze on my face.

But when I opened my eyes, it seemed like just my imagination.

Maybe the driver was an exceptionally smooth operator, or maybe I was just too exhausted—either way, I fell asleep without realizing it.

When I opened my eyes again, the sun was setting outside.

The driver and my father-in-law were gone, and my head was resting on the shoulder next to me.

Ethan opened his eyes the moment I lifted my head. When our eyes met, he looked lost for a second before finally speaking: "You fell asleep."

This was the first time he'd spoken to me since losing his memory.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Ethan didn't answer the question: "We just got here. My dad had something to take care of and left."

After getting out of the car, Ethan followed behind me quietly and obediently. Without any memories after age 18, he naturally had no idea which building or which floor our marital home was in.

As we walked, I wondered how I was supposed to interact with this husband who'd lost seven years of memory.

Ethan didn't remember me. To him, I was just a stranger who happened to have a marriage certificate with his name on it.

4

Ethan and I had met through a family setup.

When I turned 26, my parents leveraged their extensive network from their teaching careers and started arranging various blind dates for me.

They held relatively traditional views on marriage. They'd spent years treating each other with respect, rarely arguing, probably because they were colleagues at the same school and had plenty to talk about.

I remembered that as a child, I'd moved to my own room early because my parents would gossip in bed every night before sleep—about colleagues, administrators, and occasionally students.

Not that they were always talking trash. The couple just had an insatiable need to share everything with each other.

And as a kid who needed proper sleep, I naturally couldn't participate in their nightly gossip sessions.

I hadn't dated before 26 simply because I hadn't met anyone I wanted to date. But this baffled my chatty parents.

In their eyes, their beautiful daughter had no business being single at 26.

After all, aside from not supporting young romance, they'd been pretty open-minded about my education.

I went on all the dates they arranged.

The men my parents vetted were genuinely good prospects—any of them would be considered a catch in the dating market.

Among them were former students of theirs, colleagues' sons, and younger relatives of various professionals they knew.

Setting aside personal character, every single one had excellent external qualities and credentials.

They just... weren't quite right.

There were some good-looking ones with pleasant conversation and manners. We'd become decent friends, and I'd even invited them to my wedding.

People could have different kinds of relationships—it wasn't always romantic.

Ethan stood out among those prospects. He was my last blind date.

He wasn't a former student of my parents or their colleagues, nor was he a friend's son. A matchmaker had approached us.

The matchmaker had mentioned that a local businessman wanted to find a wife for his son and had asked her to help. The prospect's credentials were excellent, and when she mentioned the businessman was Old Jiang, my parents thought this date was worth going on.

My father-in-law had a good reputation in the city. He'd donated generously to various causes.

His only headache, apparently, was his son's marriage prospects.

Our family had known Old Jiang before we knew Ethan.

I was Ethan's first and only family-arranged date.

When I first saw him at the restaurant, I was surprised. Twenty-three-year-old Ethan had graduated from college less than two years ago and still carried a collegiate air about him.

He was far better looking than I'd imagined—he didn't look like someone who'd be desperate for dates at all.

That day, Ethan wore a white dress shirt, which gave him an refined, elegant appearance.

Sometimes people had inexplicable sixth sense hunches. When I met Ethan for that date, something told me we would have a story together.

After dinner, Ethan asked if I wanted to see a movie or take a walk. These were subtle signals during a date, indicating he was interested. And by accepting, I was signaling the same.

But meeting through a family setup made it hard not to evaluate each other's credentials—not just his, but my own as well.

Given Ethan's family background, he could easily have chosen someone from a more equally matched background.

From getting together to marriage, I'd turned Ethan down several times.

But he really was exactly my type physically. That biological attraction, combined with his persistence, led us into a relationship.

From meeting to marriage took only two years.

5

Married life had been sweet—until the accident.

Ethan wandered around our marital home. Without his memories, he didn't even know the layout of the place.

We'd only been married six months. Some of the wedding decorations were still up.

Ethan stared at the three-dimensional red double happiness sticker on the wall, lost in thought.

"Ugly," he blurted out.

Only after commenting did he remember I was nearby. He glanced at me. My expression was blank: "You insisted on putting it up."

Before our wedding, Ethan had absolutely insisted on hanging this three-dimensional red double happiness sticker in our Chinese-vintage-styled apartment.

It hadn't been the only decoration, but most had been taken down after the wedding. This one remained.

Ethan fell silent. He looked at me, then at the sticker, his aesthetic sense thrown into confusion.

"You—" He hesitated for two seconds before remembering the important part. "What's your name? And are we really married?"

I didn't know what he thought of this marriage now, or what he thought of me as his wife.

Even though I knew we were legally married, and Ethan's amnesia would likely be temporary, the stranger's look in my bedmate's eyes was still unsettling.

I went into the master bedroom and pulled out two marriage certificates from a drawer, handing them to him: "These are our marriage certificates. My name is Lucy Song."

Ethan flipped through both certificates with curious eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking—I only saw him look down at the certificates for a few seconds, then look up at me.

With his memory stuck at age 18, Ethan still hadn't adjusted to being married.

The doorbell rang. It was the housekeeper Old Jiang had arranged to cook for his son during this recovery period.

She got busy in the kitchen, and soon a meal was ready. Ethan and I ate quietly together.

After dinner, he didn't stay idle, walking around the apartment until he stood at the master bedroom door for a while.

"Can I go in and look?" he asked.

"Of course. It's your room too."

My amnesiac husband slowly entered the bedroom where we'd been living as a married couple.

The first thing he saw made him freeze. He turned to look at me, his voice incredulous: "I sleep on pink sheets under a pink comforter now?"

"What's wrong with that?" I'd seen him perfectly content with them before, even the little floral pattern.

The eighteen-year-old probably didn't know yet that married men had zero say in bedding choices.

I didn't know what eighteen-year-old Ethan had been like, but judging from his current expression and behavior, he seemed more assertive, with a bit of a cocky attitude. Now he was staring at the pink bedding set, looking conflicted.

Too cool for pink, huh?

"Ethan, look around. I'm going to shower, and then I'll change your bandages."

What I didn't know was that after I said this and went to shower, the man in the room became completely restless.

But I was genuinely exhausted. From learning about Ethan's accident to his discharge, my nerves had been shot. All I wanted was to shower and sleep.

When I finished showering and opened the bathroom door in my pajamas, I caught Ethan pushing the nightstand drawer closed. Even from behind, I could read panic in his movements.