Burnt for Her, Saved by Amnesia

I woke up in the hospital with a fractured tibia and a hell of a headache, but the worst part? Amnesia.

They said I'd forgotten someone important, but when my buddy Matt showed up, his face etched with worry, and asked, "You really don't remember Emily?", I drew a blank. Emily who?

Turns out, pre-accident me was obsessed with Matt's sister, Emily. Chased her for two years straight, showering her with flowers, gifts, and even redesigning my whole damn apartment in hopes of impressing her. Total cringe. The kicker? She wasn't interested. Cold, distant, and according to Matt, I was bordering on stalker territory. My phone was filled with creepy candid shots of her, and my notes app looked like a stalker's diary. Likes, dislikes, journal entries detailing every rejection.

I was horrified. This wasn't love; this was a damn train wreck. Who was this pathetic dude?

Then, standing at the edge of a new life, my mom mentioned Chloe, a childhood friend, and a potential architectural project back home at her family's farm. Ditching my city life and all those toxic memories, I vowed to never love her again. Forget getting my memories back; I was starting fresh. This time, with someone genuine.

1

The first thing Jake saw was white.

White walls, white ceiling, white sheets.

A dull ache throbbed in his head.

He tried to sit up. A sharp pain shot through his leg.

"Easy there, Mr. Peterson." A nurse.

"What happened?" Jake asked. His voice was hoarse.

"You had a skiing accident. Nasty fall. You've been out for a bit."

A doctor came in. He had kind eyes.

"Mr. Peterson, I'm Dr. Miles. You have a concussion and a fractured tibia."

Jake nodded slowly. "Okay."

"There's something else," Dr. Miles said, his voice gentle. "It seems you have some memory loss. Specifically, it appears you've forgotten a significant person in your life."

Jake frowned. "A person? Who?"

"We're not sure. Your friend is here. He might be able to help."

The door opened and Matt walked in. His face was etched with worry.

"Jake! Man, you scared us."

"Matt," Jake said, relieved to see a familiar face. "They said I forgot someone."

Matt's smile faded. "Yeah. The doctor told me."

He pulled a chair close. "You really don't remember Emily?"

Jake searched his mind. "Emily? Who's Emily?"

Matt stared at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Emily. My sister."

"Your sister?" Jake felt a blank. "I know you have a sister, but... I don't remember her. At all."

Matt's face tightened. "This isn't funny, Jake. You were obsessed with her. For years."

"Obsessed?" Jake's head throbbed again. "I don't remember."

Matt looked genuinely shocked, then a flicker of suspicion crossed his face.

"Jake, are you serious? You don't remember Emily? Like, at all?"

"No, Matt, I don't. I swear."

"You chased her for two years, man! You'd do anything for her. And now you're telling me you don't even know who she is?" Matt's voice rose.

Jake felt a surge of frustration. He didn't like being doubted.

"I swear on my life, Matt! I don't know any Emily. If I'm lying, let me never design another building."

For an architect, that was a heavy oath.

Matt's shoulders slumped. The fight went out of him. "Okay. Okay, I believe you. Damn."

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Let me tell you about Emily. And you."

He leaned forward. "You met Emily about two years ago. At her coffee shop, 'The Daily Grind'. You said it was love at first sight for you."

Jake listened, trying to connect the words to any feeling, any image. Nothing.

"You pursued her relentlessly, Jake. Flowers, gifts, surprise visits. You remember that little cafe near her place? You practically lived there, hoping to catch a glimpse of her."

Matt paused. "She... she wasn't interested. At all. She was always polite, but very distant. Cold, even. You told me how much it hurt, but you wouldn't give up."

He described how Jake had redesigned his entire apartment hoping Emily might visit one day and be impressed. How Jake learned to bake her favorite muffins, even though he hated baking.

"You even tried to befriend her cat, Mittens, and you're allergic to cats, remember?"

A faint memory of sneezing, but no cat, no Emily.

Jake processed this. A woman who was cold, distant.

"Why would I do all that?" Jake asked, genuinely confused. "Chase someone who clearly didn't want me? That sounds... pathetic."

He looked at Matt. "Was I that desperate? It doesn't sound like me."

Matt winced. "You were... determined. You said you knew she was the one, and you just had to make her see it."

"Did she ever... give me any sign? Any hope?"

Matt shook his head slowly. "Not really. She was always polite, but firm. She told you several times she wasn't interested in a relationship."

Jake felt a strange detachment, like they were talking about someone else. "So, I spent two years chasing a woman who rejected me, made a fool of myself, and for what?"

"You said you loved her," Matt said quietly.

"I need to see this," Jake said. "There has to be proof."

Matt nodded. "Your phone. It's in your bag."

The nurse brought Jake's belongings. Matt pulled out the phone. The screen was cracked from the fall.

"Here," Matt said, handing it to him.

Jake took it. His own phone, yet it felt foreign. "What's the password?"

Matt hesitated. "Try Emily's birthday. 0-8-1-5." August 15th.

Jake slowly typed it in. The phone unlocked.

He stared at the numbers. "Her birthday? As my password?"

Matt just looked at him.

The phone unlocked. The wallpaper was a candid shot of a woman laughing, her head thrown back. She was beautiful, with warm brown eyes and a cascade of dark hair. But she looked... vaguely familiar, like someone he'd seen in a magazine, not someone who was supposedly the center of his universe.

He felt nothing. No spark, no recognition.

Jake opened the photo gallery.

His breath caught.

It was filled with pictures of Emily. Hundreds of them.

Many were clearly taken without her knowledge. Emily at her coffee shop, wiping down the counter. Emily reading a book in the park, a frown of concentration on her face. Emily walking down the street, her expression serious.

In almost every picture where she seemed aware of the camera, or at least, aware of him nearby, her eyes were guarded. Sometimes annoyed. Often, just plain cold.

There was a stark contrast between the obsessive number of photos and the lack of warmth in her gaze.

"I... I took all these?" Jake murmured.

Matt nodded. "You called her your muse."

Jake scrolled, a knot forming in his stomach. This wasn't romantic. It was... unsettling.

He closed the gallery and looked for a notes app. He found one titled "E."

He opened it. It was a meticulous list.

Emily's Likes:

Dark roast coffee, no sugar.

Indie music, especially The Lumineers.

Old bookstores.

Rainy days (if she's inside).

Sunflowers.

Emily's Dislikes:

Crowds.

Loud noises.

People being late.

My persistent attention (he'd actually written this, followed by a sad face emoji).

Coconut (allergy?).

Then, there were journal entries. Short, painful.

October 12: Saw E today. She smiled at a customer. Not at me.

November 5: Tried to talk to E about the new park design. She cut me off. Said she was busy.

December 24: Left a gift for her. Saw her give it to Matt later, unopened.

January 10: She asked me to stop. Again. Why can't she see?

Jake felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment and a strange sort of pity for the man who wrote these notes. This wasn't love. It was an obsession, and a painful one.

Jake closed the app, his hand trembling slightly.

He looked at Matt, his eyes clear and firm.

"I don't want to remember this, Matt."

Matt looked surprised. "What do you mean? The doctors said with therapy..."

"No." Jake cut him off. "This... this obsession. It's not healthy. It's not me. Or at least, it's not the 'me' I want to be now."

He took a deep breath. "I'm not going to try to get these memories back. This is a fresh start. A chance to be someone else. Someone better."

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, then seemed to think better of it. "If that's what you want, Jake."

"It is," Jake said, a sense of resolve hardening within him. He felt strangely liberated.

Suddenly, Matt's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression changing.

"Sorry, Jake. I gotta take this. It's the bar. Something's come up."

He stood. "I'll be back later, okay? You need anything?"

"I'm good," Jake said. "Go."

Matt nodded, gave him a quick, worried smile, and hurried out.

Jake was left alone with the silence and the faint, persistent throb in his head. He thought about the photos, the notes. The man he apparently used to be.

He didn't like him very much.

A few minutes later, Jake's own phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number, but he answered it.

"Jake, darling, it's Mom."

"Mom! Hi." A wave of warmth spread through him. At least he remembered his mother.

"How are you feeling, sweetie? I heard about the accident. I was so worried."

"I'm okay, Mom. Broken leg, bit of a headache. Doctors say I'll be fine."

"Oh, thank goodness. Listen, Jake, I know this is probably bad timing, but remember Chloe? From the Miller farm?"

Chloe Miller. He remembered her. A childhood playmate. Bright, energetic, always laughing. They used to build forts in the woods behind her family's farm.

"Yeah, I remember Chloe," Jake said, a small smile touching his lips. It was a good memory, untainted.

"Well," his mother continued, her voice a little hesitant, "her parents and I were talking... you know, about that old understanding we had. About you two."

An arranged marriage? Or something close to it. He vaguely recalled his parents and the Millers joking about it when he and Chloe were kids. He never thought they were serious.

"They're expanding the farm, Chloe's taking over more of the business side, and they need a lot of architectural work done. New barns, a guesthouse... She was asking about you. Thought maybe you could help, and, well..." his mother trailed off.

Jake thought about the blank space where Emily was supposed to be. He thought about the obsessive, unhappy man in the phone. He thought about Chloe, a genuine, warm memory from his past.

A new life. A real one.

Jake made a decision. It felt sudden, yet right.

"Mom," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Tell the Millers I'm interested. In the project, and... in getting to know Chloe again."

He could hear his mother's sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Jake! Really?"

"Yes," he said. "And Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I... I think I was in love with someone before the accident. Someone who didn't love me back." He didn't mention her name. He didn't need to. "I don't remember her now. And I don't want to."

He paused, then added, with a conviction that surprised even himself, "I promise you, I won't fall for her again. I'm done with that."

Whoever "her" was, she was part of a past he was choosing to leave behind.

"Oh, Jake," his mother said, her voice thick with emotion. "That's... that's wonderful news."

He wasn't sure if it was wonderful, but it felt like a step forward. A step away from a life he didn't recognize and didn't want.