As I walked through the shadowy streets of San Francisco toward the hospital, my heart was racing and I was prepared for the worst. My husband Nathan had his head bandaged and his recollection was hazy when I eventually got there. The only person he could remember for certain was his ex-girlfriend Cora, who was standing by. I started to wonder if our love could withstand the hardship of faded memories and a history that would never go away.
As I stood by our cozy apartment’s window, dreaming of the day I would direct my first movie, the warm glow of sunset cast over the metropolis of San Francisco.
All around me, the space mirrored our common interests and way of life. Nathan took amazing pictures, many of which showed me in natural states of thought or amusement, and these were hung on the walls.
The aroma of just-brewed tea permeated the room—a reassuring custom Nathan demanded we keep up every night. We used it as a particular opportunity to catch up after a hectic day, to exchange ideas, or just to enjoy the calm time spent together.
Nathan sat at his workstation editing his most recent photos with laser-like focus. Our shared area was filled with the comforting sound of his keyboard’s quiet clicks.
More than just a place to live, our little but colorful apartment was a creative haven where our ideas came true. It looked out over the bustling streets below.
Nathan’s phone beeped as I looked away from the window. He hesitated, his shoulders tense enough to make the caller appear unanticipated.
After glancing at the screen, he said to me, “It’s Cora.”
His phone was now showing Cora, his ex-girlfriend, who asked for a favor and whose name he had not spoken to in years.
“Hi, Clara, Unaware of the uneasiness that was darting across my face, Nathan remarked, “Cora’s in town for a gallery event and she’s asking if I can help with a photoshoot tomorrow.”
“A picture shoot? accompanied by Cora? It was difficult for me to contain my envy as I attempted to speak calmly.
Reaching over, Nathan took my hands in his.
“Although it may sound strange, it’s entirely professional. Recall that we are approaching our anniversary. Please don’t allow anything to interfere with it.
I nodded and tried to grin, but my heart was heavy.
“Just now… Nathan, it’s not easy. She and you both… and this is it now?
You are my present and future, Claire, he said, holding me tight. Cora is only a memory from my past. Okay, trust me.
The next day, I made an effort to focus on my assignments, but images of Nathan and Cora cuddling up to each other kept coming back. I went to the photography place late at night, unable to control my curiosity and anxiety.
When I got closer, I could see them through the big studio window: Cora posing in her short dress, her laughing light and flirty as she grinned at Nathan, and Nathan with his camera.
Suddenly, Nathan’s eyes met mine through the glass. Our gaze met. I turned and ran from the sight, overcome with panic.
My senses were sharpened by the crisp evening air that struck me as I leaped onto the street. Driven by an urge to get away, I sprinted across San Francisco’s streets.
I continued walking until my beloved sandal shattered on the heel, sending me staggering into a peaceful lane. Refusing to cry, I sat on the chilly ground.
I said to the uninterested shadows, “This is the worst night of my life.” I had no idea that there would be worse things to come.
That night, while I waited in my apartment, the scent of Nathan’s favorite dish cooking on the stove filled the space with the cozy glow of candles.
In preparation for our first anniversary, a moment I had been looking forward to, I had carefully laid out the table. I set a little, nicely wrapped present down next to his plate.
With a loud ticking sound, every minute seemed to take a lifetime. Nathan was running a bit behind schedule, and my thoughts raced with possible situations.
Or was he preparing a surprise? Alternatively, may he still be with Cora, lost in the past?
My well-thought-out ideas crumbled as the night went on.
Our anniversary was tomorrow, and by midnight, I was exhausted. I slept on the chair next to our festive table, still waiting for Nathan, even though I was nervous.
I woke up the following morning with a startling ring. Feeling lost, I grabbed for the phone, anticipating Nathan’s voice. However, it wasn’t him; the person on the line was a local hospital nurse.
“Accident,” “emergency,” and “come quickly” were all muddled together in her speech. I hurried into the early morning light, my heart sinking as I grabbed my coat.
Cora was waiting for me eagerly at the hospital, sitting by Nathan’s bed in her short dress, comforting him with stories about their history. Bandaging his head, Nathan lay there gaunt and dazed.
With a pounding heart, I stepped closer to Nathan while Cora sent me a disdainful glance.
Nathan turned to look at me and said, “Who are you?”
I said, fervently hoping that Nathan would recognize me as Clara.
A medical professional came over and said, “He has partial amnesia and a concussion, which is typical following such incidents. He is feeling shocked. We must observe him throughout the night.
The physician made sure I understood the gravity. He can be released in the morning if he stabilizes and his tests come back normal. To help him heal, though, he need a quiet space and rigorous bed rest at home.
Cora drew me away before I could say anything further to Nathan. Nathan is reminded of me and our good moments. There’s no room for you right now,” she said icily in a whisper.
Defiant, I met her stare. “You’ll have to go because his memory will come back.”
Cora smirked and squinted her eyes before saying, “We’ll see.” I’ll make him adore me to the point that he won’t desire another woman till then.
My anger shot through me, “Cora, this is my husband’s room.” It is best for you to go.
The physician stepped in and said, “It could help him heal if he recognizes her.”
Looking between us, Nathan finally said something. “My partner is Cora.” He reached out to her and begged, “Please stay.”
“I’m your wife, Nathan,” she sobbed. I promise to return for you. You’ll come to recall.
“I… I don’t remember,” he said, keeping his distance.
I knew I had to get out of there before I made Nathan’s situation worse by observing his fear and anxiety. “I’m going, but I’ll be coming back early.”
“Please take good care of him,” I turned to face the physician.
“Of course,” he comforted me. After you’ve had some sleep, come back tomorrow. Maybe some space would help.
I reluctantly walked out, anxiety rushing through me. But I made up my mind to come back ready to assist Nathan remember our time spent together.
Cora followed me out and snarled, “I won’t lose this chance.”
Nathan’s bed was vacant when I arrived at the hospital early the next morning, my heart thumping with both worry and hope.
“Nathan, where are you?” Trying not to panic, I questioned a nurse.
“This morning, he was released early. She said empathetically, “A woman named Cora took him home.”
Upon noticing the location mentioned in his discharge documents, my heart fell. I had to find out where Nathan was.
As I made my way to work, despair set in. I declined to make a scene or drag Nathan home by force. His recuperation required a cautious approach.
My employer welcomed me to work with a chilly manner.
He responded coldly, “We’re letting you go due to your absences and missing a key presentation.”
All I need is some time to figure things out. I begged, citing a personal emergency.
“Commitment is necessary. I apologize,” he stated forcefully.
She turned her back and started crying. The office no longer felt like a place of aspiration.
I muttered to Nathan, “I need to fix this for us.” I was prepared to battle for our love since I really believed in it.
I transformed our living room into a temporary studio throughout the course of the following week. Fueled by hope and desperation, I found fortitude and labored through the nights, determined to use my art to bridge the distance between Nathan and me.
One week later, as dusk approached, I was standing outside Cora’s house with a projector in my hands. With hopes of calm, I rang the bell.
When Cora spotted me, her expression stiffened. How come you’re here, Clara?
“I have to see Nathan,” It matters,” I begged.
“You must go. “Nathan is moving on,” she whispered as she shut the door.
Pointing it at the wall of the garage, I set up the projector on the grass. A gentle light was created as the first video flickered to life.
The video played and captured our trips, Nathan and I browsing marketplaces, his laughter resonating throughout.
“Take a look at us! We had such an exciting time! Despite the strain, I smiled and said.
The sound of the waves mixing with our vows during our subsequent beach wedding in secrecy.
“I recall this day,” I mutely uttered. “In the sand, we vowed to last forever.”
Scenes from our apartment’s daily existence came next. Nathan frying pancakes, then he burst out laughing.
“No, not the pancakes,” I said. I snickered.
Subsequently, a silly dancing competition took place in our living room.
“You really believed you could dance more well than I could?” I made loud jokes.
Nathan stood outside with tears in his eyes, pulled by our happy recollections.
He turned to face me when the movie was over. “Clara, I don’t remember all of this, but it’s beautiful.” He spoke these passionate words: “Even though I can’t remember her, I want to be with the woman I chose.”
“You truly believe it to be good?” Despite the pain in my heart, I asked, optimistic.
Warming me against the chilly night air, he said, “It’s incredible, your best work.”
I felt optimism when I looked at our narrative glowing on the wall under the sky. What the intellect forgets, love may actually recall.