My boyfriend lost his memory. And he fell for the one person he’d always despised. He announced it on social media: "Even if I forget the whole world, my heart will remember you." My friends tried to push me. "Aren't you going to fight for him? He got that head injury saving your life, after all." "And before his surgery, he begged you. He said if he came out of it 'scrambled,' you had to find a way to make him love you again." I just shook my head, refusing to speak. In my last life, I endured a year of humiliation to finally make him remember me. In the end, all I got was a cold, dismissive question: "Why not just let this mistake be?" This time, I was determined to walk away. But when I stood with my arm linked through my new boyfriend's, Evan’s eyes went red, his composure shattering. 1 The moment Evan opened his eyes after the surgery, I knew the script of my past life was replaying. His gaze swept over me, distant and empty, without a flicker of recognition. Evan’s father, overjoyed, seized the opportunity to sever all contact between us. The next time I heard anything about Evan was a month later. He posted a photo on his social media account, an embrace with a woman named Faye. The caption read: "Even if I forget the whole world, my heart will remember you." Their love story spread like wildfire. They said the heir to the Thorne family was terrifyingly lucid after his amnesia, wary even of his own parents. But the moment he saw Faye, that cold mask cracked. They stared at each other for a long moment before Evan’s hand trembled and pressed against his heart. "Who are you?" Faye leaned against the doorframe, a sweet smile playing on her lips. "We grew up together. I'm your fiancée, silly." Evan pulled her into his arms. The confusion and terror of his memory loss finally found an anchor. "What took you so long?" he asked, his voice thick with a child-like grievance. 2 Evan’s father had spent three years trying to pry him away from me with threats and bribes, all to no avail. One bout of amnesia, and Evan fell right into the arms of the woman his father had chosen for him. Everything was back on its predetermined track. My friends were furious on my behalf. "Evan cut ties with his family just to be with you and to get out of that arranged marriage with Faye. How could he possibly like her?" "Exactly! Every time Faye tried to get near him before, he looked at her with pure disgust. He must think she's you!" They urged me to go "save" him, insisting that when his memory returned, he’d be mortified, sickened by what he’d done. I just shook my head at their pleas. Because I knew the truth. Evan wouldn't be mortified. He would drown himself in Faye's feigned tenderness and never want to wake up. In my last life, I spent a year enduring his insults and humiliation, all to make him remember me. And when he finally did, he got drunk, scrolling through photos of his sweet moments with Faye over and over. Then he looked up at me, his eyes like chips of ice. "Why not just let this mistake be?" I froze, completely lost. "…But you begged me before the surgery. You lost your memory saving my life." Evan cut me off. "And for that, I haven't treated you poorly." His voice was laced with impatience. "Can't you just… let me go?" I will never forget the searing pain and humiliation of that moment. Now, facing it all again, I would not walk that same path to ruin. I refused my friends’ advice, packed my things, and left the home I had shared with Evan that very night. 3 But fate had other plans. I was with my best friend, running errands. I fell asleep in the car, and when I woke up, she had parked in front of a bar. The moment we walked in, I realized it was the grand opening of a bar owned by Evan’s friend, Samuel. A jolt of clarity shot through me. The script was still playing out. Inside, Evan was the center of attention, Faye nestled in his arm. He didn't seem surprised to see me at all. A mocking smile touched his lips, just as I knew it would. "Miss Rhea, is it? They tell me you're the one I saved." "That's right," I nodded. His brow furrowed. "They also said you intended to repay my kindness with… yourself. I didn't quite believe it at first." He sneered. "But seeing as you've gone to such lengths to track me down here, you can't blame me for being blunt." He shot to his feet, looking down at me, the disdain in his eyes undisguised. "Listen closely, Miss Rhea. You don't have to repay me for saving your life, but you can't repay my kindness with this kind of twisted obsession!" He bit off each word, his face a mask of frost. "Do I make myself clear?" It was identical to my last life. Even the wounding words were the same, word for word. That day, in my last life, the bar was filled with Evan and Samuel's friends. Most of them knew about our history. I naively thought they would stand up for me, confirm our relationship. So when Evan ordered his men to throw me out, I fought back, desperately trying to tell the truth. I know I must have looked pathetic and crazed, but I couldn't bear to see him deceived, couldn't accept our love ending like this. I held up my phone, begging him to just look at our photos together. He ordered his men to destroy the "fake pictures" with a look of disgust. In the struggle, my collar was torn, exposing my shoulder. Faye let out a tinkling laugh. She turned to Evan, her voice a playful purr. "Evan, darling, what do you mean a 'twisted obsession'? I think she has a rather nice figure, don't you?" Evan ignored my cries, pinching Faye’s cheek with faux affection. "You're asking for it." The crowd chuckled knowingly at their exchange. Not a single person spoke up for me. Even Samuel, who had secretly given me the invitation, looked away uncomfortably. As I was dragged out the door, Evan was cradling the back of Faye’s neck, lowering his lips for a deep, passionate kiss… I snapped back to the present. Evan was waiting for my response, his patience wearing thin. "Since you don't seem to understand, let me be perfectly clear. Your offer to 'repay me with yourself' is the last thing I want." His voice was frigid. "You're not my type. Even before I lost my memory, I wouldn't have given you a second glance. So stop fantasizing about me." The bar fell silent. All eyes were on me. Even those who knew our past were eagerly waiting to see the abandoned woman make a fool of herself. But Evan's condescending, holier-than-thou act no longer hurt me. Instead, it ignited a deep, simmering hatred. I laughed, my tone exaggerated. "So, Mr. Thorne, you've spent all this time dramatically warning me off because you thought I was interested in you?" The crowd stilled, ears perked. Evan scoffed. "Don't play dumb. I know you've been contacting my lawyer, trying to dig up information on me." Faye burst out laughing again, bending over with the force of it. "Oh, Miss Rhea, just how badly do you want my fiancé? You're certainly persistent." The people around them joined in with low, mocking chuckles. I shook my head, my own smile laced with weary amusement. "Of course, I have to be persistent." I slowly reached into my bag and pulled out a single sheet of paper. As I unfolded it, two large words were visible to everyone: I.O.U. "Because if I'm not, your fiancé might just decide to default on the money he owes me!" 4 The IOU in my hand was from three years ago. Back then, Evan had cut ties with his family for me, and they had frozen all his assets. I gave him my entire life savings to start his own company. His eyes had been red as he wrote it out, stroke by stroke. He’d said, "Rhea, I'll spend my entire life paying back what I owe you." I no longer wanted his lifetime. But getting my money back was my right. My declaration sent a shockwave through the bar. First, the idea of Evan Thorne, the sole heir to the Thorne fortune, borrowing money from a humble acupuncturist like me was absurd. But then they remembered he’d been cast out by his family, and looks of dawning comprehension spread across their faces. Second, Evan had just finished publicly berating me for harassing him, loudly warning me to love him less, only for it to turn out he was the one in debt. It was all a self-important fantasy. The crowd’s whispers grew louder. "She's here to collect a debt? Pfft…" "Not a debt of love, a real, monetary debt!" The grins on their faces were becoming impossible to contain. The mob is always like that; they side with whoever has the upper hand. Evan’s face was a thundercloud. He didn't even look at the paper in my hand. "Hah. Clever little trick. But it won't work on me. Get out now, before I really lose my temper." My own face hardened. I held the IOU up high, making sure everyone could see Evan’s distinctive, sharp handwriting. My voice turned sharp, too. "Take a good look at the signature. It even has your thumbprint on it. If your eyes are failing you, I'd be happy to have a professional verify its authenticity." "And besides this note, I have the bank transfer records from three years ago." Evan’s eyes flickered as he stared at the familiar script. For a moment, his rigid composure wavered. He pressed his hand to his temple, his brow furrowed in pain. I let out a cold laugh. "See it clearly now? If you do, then you should understand why I was talking to your lawyer. The legal process is complicated. Perhaps your lawyer understands the basic principle of paying one's debts better than you do." The other patrons in the bar were now fully invested. "Is he faking a headache to get out of paying?" "Wow, I actually thought she was harassing him. Turns out he's a deadbeat who's trying to flip the script." "Looks like a gentleman, acts like a scumbag!" Evan's head seemed to hurt even more. His face darkened, his brow knitting tighter. Faye started to panic. She pulled his hand away from his head. "Evan, darling, if you can't remember, don't try! Stop torturing yourself." Then she whirled around, snatched the IOU from my hand, and ripped it to shreds. "If you spout any more nonsense, I'll make sure you're sued for slander. The Thorne family has the resources to make it stick!" I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Why the rush, Miss Faye? Weren't you cackling like a hen just a minute ago when you heard I was talking to a lawyer? Is a mere eight hundred thousand really enough to give you a headache and make you fly off the handle?" As I spoke, I pulled a second IOU from my bag. "Look closely. I have plenty more, all identical." I tucked the paper into the breast pocket of Evan's suit. "Mr. Big Shot, if you want to skip out on your debt, just say so. I'd at least respect you for being a man about it. Slandering your creditor and accusing her of being blindly in love with you is just pathetic." "You have three days. If I don't see the money, don't blame me for what happens next. A person with nothing to lose has no fear of a man in expensive shoes." 5 The scene that day was ugly. The host, Samuel, finally rushed out, pretending he'd just finished with some urgent business, and tried to smooth things over. I didn't wait for him to speak. I snatched the invitation from my friend's hand and threw it in his face. "Samuel, if you're man enough to covet another man's fiancée, you should be man enough to fight for her yourself instead of starting wars for others and hiding in the shadows like a coward, waiting to pick up the scraps." Samuel’s face turned a sickly shade of green. "Ooh, spicy! Does the owner have a thing for the deadbeat's fiancée?" "That deadbeat's a pretty good actor, though. Look at the sweat on his forehead." Humiliated, Samuel started trying to clear the bar, ushering guests out. The room was in chaos. I turned and walked out of the bar without a backward glance. Behind me, Evan’s gaze was fixed on my back, as if held there by some powerful, unseen force. His eyes burned not just with anger, but with a deep, churning confusion and unease. 6 I heard Evan got sick. He collapsed right after leaving Samuel's bar. He was plagued by headaches for days. As soon as he felt slightly better, he ordered his people to verify the eight-hundred-thousand-dollar debt. In a panic, Faye brought him to a traditional medicine clinic for acupuncture. Her request was simple: relax Evan's mind, stop him from thinking about the past. In other words, don't let him regain his memory. As luck would have it, the renowned specialist was my mentor, Dr. Adler. The day they came, I was at her clinic for physical therapy. We were separated by a thin curtain. They waited outside while I received treatment. Dr. Adler stimulated my fingers with the needles, her voice full of concern. "How could you try to bend a sharp steel plate with your bare hands? The tendons in these fingers were nearly severed. Even after therapy, you may never be able to hold a needle properly again." I managed a bitter smile but said nothing. In this life, when the accident happened, I didn't have my memories from the last one. When I saw Evan, pinned by a steel plate and barely breathing after saving me, how could I have done nothing? I had gone mad, clawing at that plate, my hands a bloody mess, feeling no pain at all. Evan had cried, weakly trying to pry my fingers away. "Rhea, let go! Your hands… how will you ever hold a needle again if you ruin them?" His blood dripped down, blurring his face. "Please, Rhea, let go. I only ask one thing of you. If… if my brain gets scrambled, promise me you'll find a way to make me remember… that I love you!" The fine silver needles pricked my fingers, one by one. I remained silent as my eyes began to burn. Dr. Adler administered the last needle with a heavy heart. "What a tragedy. If these hands can't hold a needle, your career is over." She shook her head and walked out. Evan was settled onto the treatment bed next to mine. Faye chattered away. "Doctor, was the patient next door also in a car accident?" "She was rescuing her boyfriend from a car crash," my mentor replied. "Truck drivers these days are the worst," Faye complained. "If that driver hadn't been driving fatigued, my fiancé wouldn't have been in this mess." She sighed dramatically. "Well, I guess you can't blame him entirely. There was that other driver, the woman. So stupid, such a terrible driver. If he hadn't shielded her, this never would have happened." Her voice took on a tinge of grievance. "Evan, darling, if you could do it all over again, would you still forget me just to save that idiot?" Evan was silent for a long time. Then his voice came, low and firm. "No." Faye was delighted, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. "Of course not! It was all trouble and no reward. Now we can't even get rid of her." Evan said nothing more. Dr. Adler came over to begin his treatment. "Just the head needs acupuncture, correct?" "That's right. Only his head was seriously injured. We were lucky. He was pinned across the chest, but my fiancé is blessed. That sharp steel plate only broke a few bones." "The doctors said several ribs were fractured. It barely missed his organs." … Dr. Adler was quiet for a long moment. She seemed to be looking at their registration form. A moment later, Faye’s voice turned shrill. "Doctor, why are your hands shaking? How can you perform acupuncture like that?" My mentor’s tone was sharp. "If you don't trust me, you can request a refund. I'm not the right person to treat your fiancé's condition." "How dare you! Why you…" Faye was about to argue further, but it seemed Evan stopped her. The voices outside fell silent. After a moment of quiet, there was a sharp swish. The curtain by my bed was ripped open. 7 Evan stood beside my bed, his eyes blazing with fury. "You really are relentless, aren't you?" "Going to all the trouble of bribing a doctor to stage this little drama for me. Tell me, what will it take to finally get rid of you?" He finished, his gaze falling on my hands, which were bristling with silver needles. He let out a choked laugh. "You really commit to the part, don't you? You're certainly not afraid to hurt yourself." Without warning, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. "Today, I'm going to see for myself which of your tendons are 'severed'!" "Don't!" Faye shrieked. Too late. The grotesque scars on the inside of my fingers were laid bare for Evan to see. Four fingers, marked with deep scars of varying sizes—all from keeping that steel plate from piercing his chest. Evan froze. Panic flared in his eyes before he snatched my other hand. The same. Four fingers, each one scarred. He looked dazed, a wave of uncontrollable terror washing over him. "This is impossible! Impossible!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Seeing him press his temples again, Faye had a flash of inspiration. "Evan, darling, he saved you! Isn't it only right that she helped hold the plate for a second?" "Calm down. Her old tactics of clinging to you didn't work, so now she's trying to play the victim. You can't feel sorry for her." Just like last time, Faye’s words were the lifeline Evan desperately needed. In my last life, I had humbly used the scars on my hands to prove our love. Evan had been moved at first. I thought that small flicker of emotion would be enough to make him investigate the truth. I was wrong. Perhaps he was too cowardly to seek the truth, or too arrogant to bother. In any case, Faye’s explanation gave him the perfect excuse to run. He deliberately chose to hurt me. "So what if it's true? I trust my own feelings. Even without my memory, my heart tells me who I love." He had touched his chest, his smile cruel. "And right here," he’d said, "I feel nothing for you." I had cried with such despair that day. I tried to tell myself to give up, but the memory of Evan, his face covered in blood, wouldn't let me go. The good Evan and the bad Evan tore me apart until I was on the verge of a breakdown. But this time, facing his attitude, my heart was a placid lake. After hearing Faye’s words, the confusion in Evan's eyes dissipated. He was saved, free to take the easy way out. His brow relaxed; the headache seemed to vanish. But his attitude toward me had shifted slightly. His tone softened, and he avoided looking at my hands. "If you were trying to guilt-trip me, you've succeeded." "Name your price. Anything but my affection, I can give you." I burst out laughing. I leaned back against the headboard, looking him up and down with open contempt. "Guilt-trip you? Let me tell you something, I wouldn't stand by and watch a stray dog suffer, let alone a human life, no matter how worthless. And 'anything I can give'? That's a big promise. How about you pay back the eight hundred thousand before you start making grand declarations?" Evan’s face flushed a deep red. He opened his mouth to argue but was speechless. Just then, Dr. Adler came to remove my needles. She did one hand, and I did the other myself. As my fingertips closed around a silver needle, Evan flinched back, a conditioned reflex making him hide his hands behind his back. When he realized what he’d done, he froze, his breathing growing ragged. I watched him, a wicked smile playing on my lips as I slowly, deliberately, pulled the needles from my hand, one by one. With each needle, the color drained further from his face. The body’s instincts don’t lie. Three years ago, when I used to practice on him, he developed a fear of my needles. Whenever I held one, he’d hide his hands. Now, he stared at my movements, his expression shifting from shock to pure panic. He grabbed Faye’s hand, his voice fragmented and broken. "We need to… go home. Now."
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