Chapter 11
I understood Arnold’s implication. After that day, I never reached out to him again.
Then it was March 29th, my birthday.
I called him and said in an utterly calm voice, “I’m so tired, Arnold.”
He keenly noticed the despair buried beneath my calm facade.
“Where are you, Mona?”
“If I could go back in time, I’d wish that our paths had never crossed.”
With this, I stepped on the gas.
I guessed my prayer worked.
I was indeed given a chance to choose again.
This time, I totally forgot about Shaun.
I forgot how we kissed passionately next to a wall of roses, how he walked for so long while carrying me on his back, and how he gently called me Moon.
I forgot about his indifference and harm.
He became the unwanted film footage, vanishing from my life for good.
Honestly. I didn’t know how I felt. It was a mixture of emptiness and vague pain.
Chapter 11.
Overcome with a feeling of loss, I broke free from Arnold’s embrace.
He was even more uneasy.
“You blame me, right, Mona?”
I deliberately pulled a long face to spook him.
Η
“You bet I am. How could you keep something this important from me for three entire years?”
He smiled bitterly.
“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have.
“I’ve loved you for years, and I never had a chance. I admit that when I knew about your amnesia, the selfish side of me got the upper hand.
“I’m so greedy.
“I took advantage when you were the most vulnerable.”
He stumbled backward, leaning against the door.
As he lowered his head, his long eyelashes threw shadows on his face, making him seem both lonely and dejected.
“Mona…”
He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles were turning pale.
“I’m so selfish.”
The white coat he was wearing somehow made him even more fragile.
I surrendered right away.
Chapter 1
“That’s not what I meant.
“Don’t be sad anymore, OK?”
I hugged him, buried my face in the crook of his neck, and kissed his
chin.
I did this to cheer him up.
But, somehow, things began to get out of hand.
He picked me up easily and pressed me against the door, calling my name again and again.
Part of his white coat was pulled down and hung loosely on his shoulder.
His black short–sleeved shirt and his arm with bulging blue veins were exposed in the air as he gripped my butt tightly.
On the surface, he was an honorable doctor with a sacred duty.
Deep down, he was a man with bare, pure lust.
I blushed, and my legs gave way.
Holding me in his arms, he walked to the couch as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Nothing could part us, not even the end of the world.
It wasn’t until I was beaten and on the verge of passing out that he finally stopped with satisfaction.
