I Forgot His Name, But Not His Betrayal

The first voice I heard wasn’t my mother’s, or even Callista’s—it was his.

“Well, this works out for us,” a man muttered outside my hospital door, his tone sharp and edged with cruelty. “Lysandra doesn’t remember a thing from that day. Which means she won’t realize that we were the reason she fell. Perfect. At least now she’ll stop following me around. God, I can’t stand her.”

Every drop of blood in me turned to ice. Caelum.

A woman’s anxious whisper followed. “But what if she’s pretending, Caelum? What if she actually remembers everything and is just waiting?”

“I’ll make sure she never does,” he replied firmly, disgust dripping from every syllable. “That’s why we have to keep acting. We need to visit her, smile at her, play nice—so my sister doesn’t suspect anything. She told me herself that I should come see Lysandra.”

I hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming down my face until salt touched my lips. My hands shook violently as I clutched the sheets. This was the man I had loved? The one I dreamed of marrying? He loathed me so much that he was glad I couldn’t remember him.

But here’s the truth: I hadn’t noticed his absence until then.

After the accident that left me sprawled on the ground, my memory had torn open. I recalled names, faces, pieces of my life—except for him. Caelum’s face, his name, the place he supposedly had in my heart—it was a blank hole.

Callista stayed by my side in those early days, quiet and watchful. She thought I was healing well—until she realized I hadn’t once spoken her brother’s name.

“Lysandra, what’s going on?” she snapped, voice sharp and trembling. “Did you actually forget about my brother Caelum, or is this some kind of performance to finally get his attention?”

I blinked at her, confused. “Why would I pretend in front of your brother?”

Her jaw clenched hard. “Because you were in love with him! Don’t you remember? You followed him around for years. Five years, Lysandra. You clung to him even though he shoved you away every single time because his heart was already set on another girl.”

A painful squeeze tightened in my chest. “I… I really did that? I chased after a man who didn’t even like me back?”

Her bitter laugh filled the room. “Yes. Let me prove it to you.”

She grabbed my phone, shoved it into my hands. “Here. Unlock it. You don’t even remember your own password, do you?”

My throat closed. “I… I don’t.”

Her voice was ice. “It’s his birthday. Your password is Caelum’s birthday, Lysandra. That’s how far you went.”

My fingers shook as I typed. The screen lit up. And there it was: a folder named simply, Him.

Inside were pages of entries—about his coffee, his books, the rasp of his voice. Then the rejections, the coldness, the endless refusals. Still, I had written about how I tried again, and again.

One entry stopped me cold.

Today, I saw him with Elara. She held his hand as they stood at the cliff’s edge, and he smiled at her in a way he never once smiled at me. Maybe it’s time to finally let him go… but I don’t know if I can.

The date matched the day I fell.

Callista’s voice softened, though she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You were in love with my brother, Lysandra. But he never returned it. Not once. I’ll call the doctor.” And then she left me with the evidence of my own obsession.

I stared at the words like they belonged to a stranger. Why did the name of a man I couldn’t even picture rip me apart? Why did my heart recognize the wound my brain had forgotten?

And then his voice outside confirmed it all. His contempt. His disgust. His hatred.

Something inside me cracked then, but it didn’t shatter—it hardened, cold and final. Not love. Not longing. Something else entirely.

I picked up my phone with steadier hands than before and dialed the one number I trusted.

“Mom?” My voice shook, but the words came out clear. “I want to come home. I’m ready now.”

“Lysandra? Sweetheart?” Her voice was full of worry. “What happened?”

“My decision’s final, Mom,” I murmured, my voice low but unshakable. “Please… start arranging the marriage.”

Her sharp inhale crackled through the line. “What are you saying? And Caelum—what about him? Weren’t you certain he was the only man you’d ever marry?”

A hollow laugh slipped out of me, bitter as poison. “I must have been delusional to believe that. I won’t keep pouring myself into someone who wouldn’t care if I vanished tomorrow. From this day forward, Caelum no longer exists in my heart.”

My gaze lingered on the bouquet resting on the hospital table. White lilies, palepink roses, and a few wild daisies scattered between them. A small card was tucked among the petals—blank, unsigned, giving nothing away.

Callista came bounding into the room with so much energy that her smile nearly split her face. “Lysandra! Look at this! My brother brought you flowers!”

I blinked, disoriented. “Your brother?”

“Caelum,” she explained matteroffactly, as though the name alone should spark recognition. “He dropped by earlier while you were asleep. Those are from him.”

I turned back toward the bouquet. They were beautiful—gentle, carefully chosen, their arrangement deliberate. “That’s… thoughtful,” I muttered softly.

Callista lifted the vase like a trophy, her excitement contagious. “You used to dream about this, remember? You said that just receiving a single flower from him would make you cry. You even swore you’d melt if he ever so much as looked your way.”

A weak smile tugged at my lips. “It’s hard to feel joy when I can’t even recall the emotions that used to overwhelm me.”

Her brightness dimmed. She spoke carefully now. “Which is why we should follow the doctor’s recommendation. The treatment will help bring your memories back. We can start as early as tomorrow—”

“No.” My voice cut through hers with firm finality. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t want to remember your brother. Whatever part of my memory I lost… maybe my mind was protecting me from something I wasn’t meant to keep.”

Callista froze, caught off guard. “You’re… really sure about that?”

I nodded, steady this time. “Yes. Some memories are poison. If forgetting him is a gift, then I won’t undo it.”

Days later, I was discharged. Standing at the entrance of my apartment, the key rattled faintly in my hand. The door creaked open, revealing a space that was mine yet foreign—like walking into the remnants of another person’s life.

Dust lined the corners. Everything sat exactly where it had been left. But when I reached my bedroom, my breath caught.

Photographs. Letters. Sketches.

All of Caelum.

His face pinned neatly on my board, his image folded into my drawers as though I had hidden pieces of treasure. Notes written in my own hand whispered back at me—

He smiled today.

Maybe if I keep trying, he’ll finally notice me.

One day, he’ll love me too.

I sat heavily on the bed, one note trembling in my fingers, heart aching even though my mind carried no memory of the love that once inspired it. How had I been able to love this deeply, this foolishly? Even without memories, pain pressed against my ribs as though my heart remembered every wound.

But then, his words outside the hospital door echoed again—

God, I hate her.

She won’t remember we caused her fall.

And with that, my decision was clear.

I gathered every photograph, every letter, every scrap of my devotion. A single match hissed to life. Flames licked the edges, slow at first, then faster—pictures curling, paper turning black, until the air was thick with smoke and my past collapsed into ash.

Not everything was destroyed. A few trinkets—gifts I had once planned to give him, unopened letters—were carefully packed into a box. I carried it to a courier’s desk and left it there, addressed to Caelum.

A few days later, I found myself at a quiet café near the hospital. The place was familiar, the barista kind enough to know my usual order. It was peaceful—until I felt the prickling sense of being watched.

I looked up.

Caelum stood there. Taller than I expected, his features sharp, hands shoved into his pockets with practiced nonchalance.

“You sent me something?” His tone was blunt, no warmth behind it.

I nodded. “I found those things in my apartment. They seemed like they belonged to you.”

His jaw tightened. “Haven’t I made it clear already? I only see you as Callista’s friend. This obsession of yours—it needs to stop. Isn’t it enough that you nearly died chasing after me?”

The words cut, but I steadied my breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I lost my memory. I thought those things mattered… but I was wrong.”

His expression shifted as if weighing my sincerity. Then, pretending surprise, he asked, “Wait… you really don’t remember anything?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “So maybe you can help me. What exactly happened that day? Were you with me on the mountain?”

He looked away briefly before meeting my gaze again. “You followed me and Elara up there. I kept telling you to stop, but you refused. You got angry, said you’d kill yourself if I didn’t pick you over her. Then you jumped.”

I stared, a laugh nearly escaping my lips. “That’s what I said? That I’d kill myself?”

“Yes,” he pressed, a little too quickly. “That’s the truth. So hear me now—don’t ever do something that reckless again. I’m not worth it.”

I held his gaze, unflinching. “Thank you for telling me. But don’t worry—I’d never repeat that mistake.”

Gathering my bag, I rose from my chair. “For you? No. You’re not worth even a second more of my life. I won’t ever follow you again.”

His eyes flickered, unsettled. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly.

“Well… in that case,” he muttered, softer now, “maybe we can just stay acquaintances. Or even friends. You’re Callista’s best friend, after all. We’ll cross paths whether we like it or not. As long as you… behave.”

I gave him a small, polite smile—the kind reserved for strangers you never plan to know deeply. “Of course.”

“Well, in that case,” Callista said, twisting open a can of soda with a hiss, “then my brother must have feelings for you somewhere deep down. Maybe he hasn’t realized it yet, but hey—doesn’t that sound like progress?”

I raised a brow, incredulous. “Progress? Callista, he literally told me we could stay friends if I behaved myself. How is that supposed to be good?”

“Exactly!” Callista’s grin widened like she had just unlocked some universal secret. “Five whole years he treated you like you were invisible wallpaper. And now? He’s setting conditions instead of flatout ignoring you. That’s a huge change! Maybe he finally knocked some sense into himself and is starting to see your worth.”

A dry laugh slipped past my lips. “No. It’s not worth celebrating. He’s only acting this way because of guilt. He thinks I tried to end my life after he rejected me. Of course he’s suddenly being nice—he believes I threw myself off that cliff over him.”

Callista’s expression faltered instantly. “Wait—what? You jumped? I thought it was just a slip… an accident.”

I froze. My chest constricted, because I knew the truth now.

They wanted me gone.

I turned away, tightening my grip on the glass in my hand. “Drop it, Callista. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t care what happened that day. I’d rather not remember anything at all. What I want now is to move forward—and your brother isn’t part of that future.”

Callista’s sharpness softened into sadness. “That’s a shame. You were the only girl I ever wanted as my sisterinlaw. Ugh, I can’t stand Elara. If only my brother had chosen you instead of her…”

A faint smile curved on my lips. “The heart chooses who it wants, Callista. We can’t command it otherwise. But don’t worry about me—I’m not broken. In fact, I want you to join me tonight. We’re going out.”

She blinked. “Going out? For what reason?”

I stood, forcing a grin. “To celebrate. What else? I’m celebrating being free.”

The club pulsed with life, the bass shaking the floor as lights of every color washed over the crowd. Bodies moved like waves, synchronized to the rhythm, and for the first time in weeks I could actually breathe.

I laughed, tossing my head back, Callista spinning me around as the music thrummed through my veins like lightning.

I was no one’s shadow anymore.

I was myself again.

We danced until our feet ached, until sweat slicked our necks and our hair clung to our faces.

Then, as I stopped to catch my breath, Callista tugged at my arm, eyes wide with excitement. “Guess what?”

I gave her a side glance. “What now?”

“My brother’s here,” she said, practically bouncing. “He came with some of his friends. They’re across the room. Come on, let’s go greet them—”

“No.” The word left my lips sharp and immediate. I didn’t even let her finish. “I don’t want to.”

She frowned but didn’t push me, and I silently thanked her for it.

So instead, I threw myself harder into the music—moving freer, wilder, every step reclaiming another piece of myself. And then, even through the chaos, I felt it. His gaze. Heavy. Unrelenting. Caelum watching me like a predator across the room.

I ignored him.

Later, I slid into a booth to rest, sipping from my glass. That’s when I caught the sound of laughter—familiar voices only a few tables away. Caelum’s friends.

“Oh, look who’s back. Your stalker, Caelum,” one sneered. “Guess she still hasn’t moved on, no matter how many times you told her off.”

Another chuckled. “Pathetic, isn’t it? I thought you told her to stop already.”

“She’s been calm lately,” Caelum’s voice cut through, cold and dismissive. “But who knows? Maybe she’ll try her little tricks again. Remember when she sneaked into my room and kissed me? God, she was crying—begging me to kiss her back.”

The table erupted with laughter.

I stared into my drink, pulse pounding in my ears. My hands trembled, not from weakness but from disgust. That… was me? I had cried for him? Begged him?

And now he sat there, turning my pain into his comedy show.

Another voice chimed in, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “So, Caelum, you inviting her to your birthday? Let her give us a little show. Based on the way she danced tonight, she’s got some talent.”

Caelum laughed. “Oh, she’ll come. She wouldn’t dare say no.”

My teeth clenched. Fury burned hot beneath my skin. But I forced myself to remain still, silent, invisible. Let them think I hadn’t heard.

Minutes later, Caelum swaggered toward me, that smug smirk plastered across his face—the same smile that once made my heart race. Now it only made my stomach turn.

“I wanted to personally invite you to my birthday party,” he said, feigning casualness. “And maybe you can give us another performance, like earlier. You were… entertaining.”

I met his gaze headon, voice sharp. “I’m not coming.”

His smirk faltered. “What?”

“I said no.”

“You’re refusing to come to my birthday?”

I tilted my head, tone icy and unyielding. “Yes. Why? Did you think your birthday meant anything to me? I have far better ways to spend my time.”

His jaw clenched. “Better ways? Like what?”

I let a slow, sweet smile spread across my lips. “Like going on a date.”

And without giving him the satisfaction of a reaction, I rose, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked straight out of the club—leaving Caelum Green rooted to the spot, stunned and humiliated in front of the crowd.

My phone buzzed as I ran a brush through my hair. Mom’s name lit up the screen.

I hesitated for a second, then answered.

“Lysandra,” her voice was warm, soothing, “everything’s ready. The house, the plans… we’re just waiting for you to come home.”

A lump rose in my throat. “I’ll be back soon.”

Her tone shifted, laced with worry. “Are you sure nothing happened?”

The pause was too long. I didn’t want her to know about the accident, so I forced a light laugh.

“No, nothing. I just… woke up. Finally realized he was never going to love me.”

Silence. Then her soft sigh. “That’s good, sweetheart. He was a storm you never needed.”

I smiled faintly, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her voice brightened again. “Now you can think about your wedding dress! Go to the boutique today. I’ll start arranging the dinner next week. Your groom’s still busy with business, but soon.”

I nodded though she couldn’t see me. “Okay. I’ll go today.”

When the call ended, I stayed frozen, phone in hand.

I didn’t even know who this groom was—a family friend, maybe? Someone Mom trusted. A way to reset my life, like flipping a switch.

Didn’t matter. As long as it wasn’t Caelum.

The boutique was still my favorite place, nestled between a florist and a café. White lace glowed in the window like spun sunlight.

Inside, rows of gowns waited, shimmering like ghosts of fairy tales. I trailed my fingers along one, whispering a sigh.

Maybe if I pretended hard enough, if I wore a beautiful dress, I could trick myself into feeling whole again.

But then a voice sliced through the stillness.

“Well, well. What are you doing here?”

I stiffened. I knew that venom.

Elara.

She stood tall, flawless, draped in a champagne gown like it was part of her skin.

“Stalking me again?” she sneered.

Calmly, I shook my head. “No. I’m here to try on wedding dresses.”

Suspicion darkened her eyes. “Trying to steal him again? First throwing yourself at him, now copying me?”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m not here for Caelum. I’m really getting married. This has nothing to do with you.”

Her laugh was sharp, cruel. “You? Married? Please. No one would want you after the spectacle you made. This is just another pathetic stunt to ruin my wedding.”

My fists clenched, but my voice stayed level. “I don’t care about Caelum anymore. He’s yours.”

But she wasn’t finished.

“Don’t play innocent. You begged him. Cried for him. Tried to crawl into his bed. And now you’re strutting around like some broken doll in a bridal shop? Pathetic!”

I turned away. Enough.

Then—

A crash.

I spun back just in time to see her lifting a decorative vase, her face twisted with fury.

“Elara—”

Crack.

Pain split my skull. The floor tilted, spinning out from under me.

Through the haze, her face loomed above me.

“I told you,” she hissed. “He’s mine.”

Darkness swallowed me whole.

My eyelids fluttered open slowly, vision sharpening to the sight of a sterile, pale ceiling. The world felt muffled, heavy. When I tried to lift my arm, my body resisted, weighed down as though I were sinking into quicksand. A dull ache throbbed at my temple, and when I reached up, I felt the rough edges of bandages wrapped tightly around my head.

“Lysandra?”

The voice pulled me from the haze. I shifted my gaze—though even that tiny movement sent pain shooting through my muscles—and saw a familiar figure leaning over me.

“Callista…” The word came out hoarse, broken, but it steadied me. Just hearing her voice felt like grasping a rope in the middle of drowning waters.

Her appearance startled me more than my own injuries—dark circles sat heavy beneath her eyes, and the rims were swollen red. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, her lips trembling with relief now that I was awake.

“Oh, thank heavens,” she breathed, clutching my hand with desperate strength. “I thought you were gone. You’ve been unconscious for hours, maybe longer. They had to put in fifty stitches—do you understand? Fifty! I nearly lost my mind watching them work on you.”

Callista’s gaze flicked to the ugly sutures on my forehead, and anger hardened her features. “That monster. Don’t tell me it was anyone else—was it her? Was it Elara?”

My throat burned as I forced the word out. “Yes. She struck me… with a vase. I went down before I even realized what happened.”

Callista pushed back her chair and began pacing, hands fisting at her sides. “That venomous witch really tried to kill you. I swear, Lysandra, I’ll drag her through the fire myself. She won’t get away with this—I’ll make sure she pays for everything.”

But as she raged, something inside me shifted—like a door I didn’t know existed suddenly swung open.

“I—” I stopped, clutching my head as a sharp pain cut through it. “Callista… my memories. I think… I think they’re coming back.”

She froze midstep. “What do you mean?”

Fragments crashed into me—like shards of glass piercing through the fog. Me trailing behind Caelum and Elara like a shadow. Watching them laugh while my chest split in two. Following them even when I knew I should stop. That day at the cliff. His cold eyes as he shoved me away. My own scream tearing through the wind.

“I see it now,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “All of it. The way I clung to him, followed him everywhere like a fool. How desperate I was. How I begged him to notice me, to love me. God… how pathetic I was.”

Callista’s face crumpled, pain written across every feature. “Lysandra…”

The door opened then, and the doctor stepped in, brows rising as he glanced at me. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable,” he said, astonished. “Her memory is resurfacing this quickly? It’s highly unusual. Cases like this exist, but they’re rare. You could call it nothing short of a miracle.”

Callista let out a shaky laugh, tears glistening in her eyes. “Then that means she’s back. She’s really back.”

But deep down, I knew—I wasn’t the same person anymore. Something fundamental had changed.

“I’m going to tell Caelum,” Callista declared suddenly, straightening her shoulders. “He has to know what Elara did. He’ll protect you once he finds out.”

“No,” I interrupted firmly, my voice steady like ice.

Her head snapped toward me. “What are you talking about? Of course he needs to know—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” My tone was flat, devoid of the desperation that used to define me. “Especially now. Especially now that I remember.”

Before Callista could argue, the door banged open with a force that rattled the frame.

Caelum.

His eyes burned like a storm about to break, his jaw tight with fury. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Confusion prickled my chest. “What?”

“Elara’s hurt,” he snapped. “Her hand’s bleeding. She told me you started it.”

“You’ve got to be joking!” Callista shouted, stepping in front of my bed protectively. “She was the one who bashed Lysandra’s head in! She’s the reason Lysandra is lying here, covered in stitches!”

Caelum turned that furious glare on her. “So now you’re siding with her too? Perfect. Seems you’ve learned all her little tricks—how to manipulate, how to twist everything to look innocent.”

“Caelum, listen—” I tried to explain.

He cut me off, voice sharp and merciless. “Enough. You’ve pulled this stunt before. Accusing Elara of pushing you, of burning you—always some story to make yourself the victim. I kept quiet because you were close to my sister, but I’ve had enough. Stay away from me. Don’t you dare bring up marriage again—do you have any idea how insane that sounds? You? In wedding gowns, dreaming you’d be my bride? Pathetic. Laughable. Never.”

With that, he spun on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind him with finality. No chance to defend myself. No chance to speak the truth.

Something inside me cracked like shattered glass.

A scream tore from my throat, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the sterile room. No more aching heart. No more pleading hope. All that remained was hatred.

I swore then—I would never let Caelum Green near me again. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

Third Person POV

The celebration unfolded with glittering extravagance, fitting for a man of Caelum’s stature. The restaurant gleamed in black and gold, chandeliers scattering light across the polished floors. Guests in tailored suits and shimmering gowns clinked glasses, laughter rolling through the air while champagne poured like liquid gold. At the center table sat Caelum, surrounded by admirers, casually opening the pile of gifts stacked before him.

Then his hand landed on a plain white box. No ribbons, no card on the outside. Strange.

He lifted the lid. Inside was a single folded invitation, the handwriting elegant and precise.

He opened it—and froze.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Lysandra Gray and Kael Valen.

Caelum’s greatest rival. The man whose name alone was enough to make his jaw clench. Ruthless. Powerful. A businessman whose influence mirrored his own, someone Caelum never wanted to see anywhere near Lysandra.

For a heartbeat, Caelum forgot how to breathe.

Then fury consumed him, sharp and hot. “She’s crossing the line now,” he muttered under his breath, crushing the invitation in his fist. “A sham marriage? Just to pull me back in?”

Snatching his phone, he dialed her number, rage vibrating through his body.

The call didn’t connect. Instead, a message appeared.

Congratulations on your wedding, Caelum. Don’t worry—I’m not marrying you. I finally remembered what happened on the mountain. I remembered how you tried to kill me.

The words seared into his mind.

Caelum stared at the glowing screen, and suddenly the chatter of the party dulled, the clinking glasses muted. Something twisted in his chest—an unfamiliar, suffocating weight.