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When I Remembered His Name
After my surgery, I lost my memory. My fiancé kept me abroad for seven years.
During those seven years, he never let me interact with the outside world.
But that day, I found a Forbes magazine in his office.
"Ethan Shen..."
Such a familiar name.
I stared at the man in the pages—pristine, untouchable, described as a "self-made tech mogul"—and my heart inexplicably ached.
I asked my fiancé who he was.
His eyes flickered. "You don't know him."
1
I'd only asked who he was.
Why did Lucas instinctively say I didn't know him?
Sure, I'd lost my memory, but that didn't mean I'd lost my ability to reason.
Especially looking at the man's detached, calm face in the photo—the blank spaces in my mind suddenly felt like they were cracking open.
My gut told me I must have known Ethan Shen before.
I had to find him.
But for some reason, Lucas was resistant to me returning to the States.
He said he'd already arranged everything with both families—we were getting married this month.
Using concern for my wellbeing as an excuse, he restricted my movements.
This only made me more suspicious that he was hiding something.
I pretended to be compliant, secretly retrieved my documents, and bolted the day before the wedding.
After seven years, setting foot on home soil again, I couldn't contain my excitement.
Maybe because I was closer to him.
I stood in the center of San Francisco International Airport, looking at the address printed in the Forbes magazine I'd taken from Lucas's office.
I was about to call an Uber.
Someone brushed past me.
My phone and the magazine clattered to the ground.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry—are you okay?"
I crouched down to pick up my phone and magazine, looking up with a smile. "It's fine."
But as my gaze shifted, through the crowd of passing figures, the man from the magazine was actually standing there, just ten feet away from me.
He'd spotted me first and had stopped walking.
Long brows, detached. Eyes, serene.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
His refined features, made more aristocratic by his indifferent expression.
In that moment, my heart—dormant for seven years—began to pound violently.
I was absolutely certain he knew me.
From before I lost my memory.
I was about to walk over to him.
A woman suddenly appeared at his side. "We should board."
Was he leaving the country?
I glanced at the ticket in the woman's hand—he was going to London, where I'd spent the last seven years.
Panic rising, I called out, "Sir..."
He froze, looking at me with disbelief in his eyes, his face a shade of pale mixed with anger.
Something lurked in the depths of his gaze, like a desolate winter landscape.
Was he... angry?
Oh, right. If we knew each other, calling him "sir" would definitely make him angry.
I brightened, offering a friendly explanation. "I lost my memory, but you look familiar. Do we know each other?"
Under the cold fluorescent lights, he walked right up to me, his tall frame looming, staring me down.
I smiled even more sweetly back at him.
Then he parted his lips, voice dripping with sarcasm. "No."
Expressionless. Cold as ice.
My smile froze.
I watched him turn and stride toward the airport exit, the woman following close behind. "Boss, we're not going abroad anymore?"
He didn't answer, seeming perpetually angry.
What a strange man.
2
But I wasn't about to give up.
After dropping my luggage at the hotel, I immediately took a car to his company.
The magazine had listed his company's address.
"Can you help me schedule a meeting with your CEO, Ethan Shen, from Aurora Tech?"
The receptionist looked me up and down. "Do you have an appointment?"
"I don't have his contact information—how would I make an appointment? Can I make one now?"
The receptionist looked at me like I was an idiot and ignored me.
I felt a little helpless.
Growing up, whenever I wanted to visit my father's company or Lucas's company, I never needed an appointment—someone would always escort me up.
How was I supposed to know how appointments worked?
I sat in the lobby for ages. Employees started leaving for the day, and I still hadn't seen Ethan Shen.
I was getting hungry—I hadn't eaten all day.
I decided to grab food and come back tomorrow.
But the moment I stood to leave, Ethan Shen appeared.
He didn't even look at me, striding past with long steps. Desperate, I reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
All around us, employees leaving and still working stopped, eyes wide, gasping audibly as they stared.
He stiffened slightly, didn't turn to look at me. His hand at his side clenched tight, veins visible.
"Can I help you?"
"Ethan Shen—that's your name, right?"
His breathing grew heavier. Suddenly he whipped around, glaring at me. "You come looking for me, and you're asking who I am? Amelia, are you messing with me? Is this fun for you?"
"You do know me!"
My eyes lit up, looking at him with delight.
His expression seized up. He turned his head away, closing his eyes as if forcibly restraining something.
After a long moment, he turned back, face blank as he stared at me. "We were just classmates. We're not close. Please don't come here again."
This was the first time since losing my memory that anyone had spoken to me like this.
But for some reason, the scene felt oddly familiar.
Like someone had once said to me with this same stern face, "Can you please stop looking for me?"
3
I was lost in thought for a moment, and he'd already walked away with long strides.
People around me stared with strange expressions.
My ringtone pulled me back.
It was Lucas. He must have discovered I'd returned to the States.
I walked out of Ethan Shen's company while answering. "Lucas."
"Why?" His voice was tight with suppressed fury. "Haven't I been good to you? Why run from our wedding?"
"I just wanted to come back to the States for a visit. We can have the wedding anytime."
"How can it be the same?! Amelia, can you stop being so selfish? The whole world is waiting for this wedding, watching—and you just left. What am I supposed to do?"
I stopped walking, anger rising. "You didn't ask me when you decided on the wedding. You decided everything on your own. If that's the case, why should I have to ask you when I leave?"
"...So you don't want to marry me?"
I didn't answer, because I'd spotted Ethan Shen again.
He hadn't gone far.
Our eyes met abruptly. I thought he'd ignore me again, but instead he walked right up to me.
He spoke. "You wanted to see me? Come with me now. Yes or no?"
I was stunned.
I couldn't even pay attention to Lucas on the phone—erupting in fury, shock, demanding answers after hearing Ethan's words.
Ethan stared straight at me, as if urging me to hang up.
I obediently ended the call and followed him to his car.
And the man who'd asked me into his car fell silent once I got in.
He wore a black dress shirt, impeccably tailored. His refined profile was tense, blurred by the glow of streetlights outside.
I quietly studied him, from top to bottom, very carefully.
He finally couldn't hold back. "Why did you come back?"
"To find you," I blurted out.
His hand on the steering wheel jerked, and he shot me a look that was both flustered and resentful.
I felt a bit wronged.
He pulled over to the side of the road, loosening his tie. When he turned to me, his eyes were already red. "Amelia, what are you trying to do this time?"
Below his neck, his smooth, pale skin had an almost sickly pallor. God, it was so attractive. I stared, a little dazed.
Until someone grabbed my chin, tilting my face up. "Where are you looking? Answer my question."
I blinked. "I'm not trying to do anything. I just lost my memory, saw your photo in a magazine, thought you looked familiar, so I came back to ask—did we know each other before?"
"Lost your memory?" He let out a cold laugh. "Is that the excuse you made up for disappearing for seven years?"
"You don't believe me?"
I pulled out my phone from my bag. "I can prove it!"
I opened my photo album, wanting to show him evidence from when I was hospitalized, my medical records.
He only glanced at it before turning away, lips pressed tight. "Trying to trick me again. You even made fake evidence."
Above his slightly reddened eyes, his lashes trembled lightly.
I couldn't figure out this stubborn, strange man.
The smell from the food court nearby wafted over. I was hungry.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. The moment I moved, he suddenly locked the car doors, looking at me with barely concealed anxiety.
"You said you lost your memory. So why are you looking for me? To get back together? What about your fiancé? Or are you planning to keep one in London and one in America?"
Get back together?
I caught the key phrase. "So we used to be lovers?"
He choked.
I leaned closer, staring into his eyes. "I knew it. My taste isn't that bad—this face is exactly what I like."
"..."
The tips of his ears turned red. I couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.
"But why did we break up? Who ended it?"
"What do you think?" His tone was irritable.
I hesitated. "...Was it me? That can't be right, can it?"
He huffed coldly, turning his head away, ignoring me again.
He looked utterly cold, but somehow there was a hint of grievance underneath.
4
"Ethan, I'm hungry."
He looked surprised, as if confused by the sudden topic change.
But I pointed toward the food court. "Let's go eat there?"
He followed my gaze, and something flickered across his face—surprise mixed with melancholy.
"Does the heiress still eat street food these days?"
"I haven't had any in seven years. They wouldn't let me."
"They?"
He paused, his voice taking on a hoarse edge. "Your fiancé?"
I didn't answer, just unlocked the door and got out.
His brow furrowed, but he followed me out anyway.
The food court was near the university district. I'd gone to Stanford.
If I remembered correctly, Stanford was around here too.
"Did we come here before?"
"No."
"So we did come here."
He choked again.
I smiled up at him. "What did we used to like to eat? Take me there?"
His face was stern, as if annoyed.
But he still obediently led the way.
The wing shack tucked deep in the alley was packed.
But when Ethan Shen appeared, the owner still came over to greet him.
"You haven't been here in ages. What brings you in today..."
His words cut off halfway. He turned, saw me, and looked shocked. "Hey? Isn't this your college girlfriend? You came back to the States?"
Understanding dawned, and he looked at Ethan. "I figured—you suddenly called to reserve a table today. Your girlfriend came back, huh?"
Ethan had reserved a table in advance?
I was wondering when he'd made the reservation when Ethan quickly interrupted. "Same as always. The usual."
He paused, glancing at me. "No spice."
I immediately protested. "I want spice! How can you have Buffalo wings without spice?"
The owner laughed, confused. "Right? You guys always ordered the spiciest level before."
Ethan frowned. "Didn't you have brain tumor surgery? You still dare to eat spicy food?"
"Oh, so you did see it?"
He choked again.
I hid my smile.
Earlier in the car, he'd kept looking away, refusing to look at my phone. I'd thought he really hadn't seen the photos.
Turned out he'd caught every detail.
I'd figured it out—Ethan Shen was the type to say one thing and mean another, but he was attentive.
"It's fine, really. It's been seven years—I can eat it now. Don't worry."
"Who's worried about you... Do whatever you want."
He looked like I'd caught him red-handed, a little embarrassed and defensive.
But he didn't try to stop me again.
Except I'd really overestimated my spice tolerance.
After just a few bites, I couldn't breathe, my lips were swollen, my face flushed bright red.
Ethan frowned at me and silently handed me a cup of water.
I took a sip and immediately wrinkled my nose. "Why is it warm?"
"After eating spicy food, drinking ice water is bad for your stomach."
"I'm literally dying from the heat—who cares about their stomach?" I gasped for air, urging him, "I want ice, ice..."
The spice had gone to my head, making me forget the seven years and amnesia between us, forgetting the awkwardness.
Almost instinctively, I grabbed his arm, my tone taking on a slightly wheedling quality.
Ethan clearly froze. After a long moment, he replied softly, "Okay."
He got up and brought me ice water.
5
In the end, I still gritted my teeth and finished most of those wings, washing them down with ice water.
When Ethan drove me back to my hotel, my stomach was already bothering me.
But I was too embarrassed to tell him.
After all, he'd warned me not to get the spice, and I'd insisted on being stubborn.
In the middle of the night, I woke from the pain and managed to call the front desk.
But when the door opened, along with the hotel staff, I saw Ethan Shen.
He was still here?
"You—"
"Don't talk."
His face was tense, visibly anxious and worried as he scooped me up and carried me out.
Eventually, with Ethan and the hotel staff's help, I was taken to the hospital.
When I woke up, Ethan was sitting by my hospital bed.
His gaze was deep, fixed on me. I didn't know how long he'd been watching or what he was thinking.
When our eyes suddenly met, it startled me.
And then came the awkwardness.
I couldn't help it—I started hiccuping and couldn't stop.
He watched me silently.
"I—hic—appendix surgery—hic—hiccuping is totally normal after—hic!"
I tried to explain, but with every word, another hiccup.
"I can see that. Very normal indeed."
"..."
Catching the suppressed laughter in his eyes, I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl into a hole...
I pulled the blanket up, covering my entire head, trying to escape.
But the next second, he pulled it back down. "Your stomach isn't healed yet—trying to suffocate yourself?"
His face was stern, like he was about to lecture me.
Remembering my stubborn behavior last night, I was about to apologize.
Then I heard an unexpected "I'm sorry"—and it came from Ethan.
I looked up at him in surprise.
His expression was guilty, his voice low and slow. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be suffering like this."
Huh?
"I must make you feel like you can't trust me, right? That's why, whether it was seven years ago when you got sick or last night when your stomach hurt, you didn't choose to tell me first. You'd rather suffer alone than tell me?"
"It's not like that..."
"Does it still hurt?"
He interrupted, his cool eyes rippling with gentle warmth, so tender it seemed he could wring water from them.
I felt a little dazed, my heart skipping a few beats.
Even with my lost memory, I could understand why I'd fallen for him before.
"Hic—"
A loud hiccup suddenly rang out, instantly breaking the atmosphere in the hospital room.
I looked at him, mortified, wanting to