On the eve of our engagement, my boyfriend suddenly regained his memory. I learned that before he lost his memory, he was an undercover cop. And he had a childhood sweetheart—a fiancée. She found me, crying like a wilted flower: "If he had returned safely from that mission, we would have been married." "Please, give him back to me..." I was silent for a long time before whispering, "Okay." Then I accepted a transfer from my company and moved to another city. Three years later, I was held at knifepoint on the street. He saved me, and just as I was about to slip away, he handcuffed my wrist. His voice was cold: "Planning to leave without saying goodbye again?" 1 It was evening, and the rain was pouring down. A sharp dagger pressed against my neck, bringing a damp, stinging pain. Behind me, a desperate criminal shouted, "Don't move, or I'll kill you!" That was the scene when I saw Luke again. He was wearing a crisp uniform, standing sideways to me, talking to his colleagues. Rainwater dripped down his jawline, making his expression even sterner. A moment later, he began negotiating with the man holding me hostage: "What are your demands? State them." The criminal's face was twisted, his voice distorted: "I want a wife! You guys give me a wife, make her give me a son!" Of course, that was impossible. The rain fell harder. Negotiators came and went. Someone must have said the wrong thing. The criminal suddenly snapped. He gripped the knife handle tight and screamed, "Since I can't have a wife anyway, taking a pretty woman down with me isn't a loss!" The sharp blade cut into my skin. Severe pain and the terror of imminent death filled my heart in an instant. The next second—bang. A bullet cut through the dense rain and struck the criminal's forehead. When Luke lowered his gun and strode towards me, I was already clutching the wound on my neck, staggering up from the ground. Due to blood loss, my vision went black in patches. I stumbled forward two steps. And fainted into Luke's arms. I woke up in the hospital. The wound on my neck was bandaged, but the pain was still sharp. Luke stood by the bed, his hair soaked from the rain, still dripping water. I spoke with a raspy voice: "The little girl I swapped with..." "She's fine. Her mother is protecting her well." Luke stared at me deeply. "That man had a knife. Even if you wanted to save someone, you shouldn't have put yourself in danger." I curled my lips into a smile, but it quickly disappeared as the wound pulled. "Sorry about that. But protecting the weak is human nature. That's what you taught me, Officer Sterling." 2 This hostage situation had nothing to do with me originally. I was just on my way home from work when I saw the little girl with a knife to her neck. The criminal was kissing the top of her head and shoulder frantically. She was crying in terror. I suddenly thought of Luke. Three years ago, before we broke up. He saved a little boy and got hit by a falling billboard, injuring his back. It took six stitches. In the hospital, I was so worried I almost cried, poking his forehead and scolding him: "Next time you save someone, can you ensure your own safety first?!" He sat under the light, looking up at me. His lips were pale from blood loss. But when he smiled, there was still light in his eyes: "Protecting the weak is human nature." I, who had always been selfish, suddenly choked up. I couldn't say a word. He held my hand and looked seriously into my eyes: "But getting hurt and making you worry was my fault." "I'm sorry, Sarah." How much Luke and I loved each other then was matched only by how messy our breakup was later. Because a few months later, his childhood sweetheart, Emily, suddenly showed up. I learned that Luke was an undercover cop. His identity was exposed during a mission. After being tortured nearly to death, he managed to escape. But due to severe injuries, he lost his memory. "While he was with you these past two years, I've been looking for him." Emily sobbed in front of me. "Please, give him back to me..." She showed me many things. Photos, gifts, rings. It was her past with Luke, twenty years of intimacy. So, I ran away. 3 On the day I was discharged, Luke and a young cop came to pick me up. He sat in the back seat with me, looking serious. I touched the gauze on my neck, trying to lighten the mood: "People might think I committed a crime, leaving the hospital in a police car." Luke kept a straight face, his tone flat: "No, just going to give a statement." The young cop took my joke seriously and quickly comforted me: "How could that be, Miss Miller? You disregarded your own safety to save someone. The bureau is discussing giving you an award for bravery!" "Just an award, no reward?" I hooked the corner of my lip. "Like rewarding me with a young, handsome cop as a boyfriend or something." In the rearview mirror, the young cop's ears turned red. He stammered, "Well, we..." Before he could finish, Luke interrupted. He said coldly, "Focus on driving. Don't get distracted." "Yes, Captain Sterling." I lowered my eyes and said nothing more. After giving my statement, it was already noon. Because another case came up suddenly, Luke went out to handle it. I was warmly escorted to the door by others, ready to leave. I ran right into a very familiar face. Emily. She was wearing a white dress, dressed gently, holding a lunch box. Her quiet smile vanished the moment she saw me. Others greeted her: "Miss Emily, here to bring lunch to Captain Sterling again?" "Captain Sterling is so lucky. Unlike us, coming back late from missions to cold food." "Are wedding bells ringing soon?" She lowered her head as if shy: "We're getting married soon. I'll send invitations to everyone then." A fog-like emotion rose in my heart. I pursed my lips and walked out quickly. But Emily chased after me. "Sarah Miller." She blocked my path, looking unhappy: "You promised you would give Luke back to me." "Are you going back on your word now because he got promoted to Captain?" "I'm not going back on my word." I said indifferently, "I wish you and Luke a happy life together." She smiled with satisfaction: "Thank you." 4 On the way back, the taxi stopped at a red light. I looked out the window. A girl fell, and her boyfriend picked her up, holding her tightly in his arms. Tears fell without warning. Just one drop, and I wiped it away. I suddenly thought of when I had known Luke for seven months. He rejected my third confession, saying he had lost his memory, his identity was unknown, and he couldn't give me happiness. But he still accompanied me home to pack my things. Halfway through packing, my stepfather came back. Reeking of alcohol, just like many times in the past, he cursed and lunged at me. I tried to kick him away, but he choked me and slapped me. Luke, who was fixing my wardrobe in the inner room, heard the noise and strode out. He grabbed my stepfather by the collar, dragged him off me, and punched him hard several times. I lay on my back on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. My vision was blurry; I couldn't even see Luke's face clearly. "Sarah." He called me, "Sarah Miller!" I curled my lips slightly: "Ten years. The first time someone saved me, Luke." His expression was indescribably sad. He picked me up from the floor and walked out the door. "Don't look back. Don't look." He covered my eyes. "You don't need to come back to this dangerous place. I'll handle it for you." "Sarah Miller, I accept your confession."
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