My Amnesiac Husband Asked for Divorce, I Laughed and Walked Away Chapter 10

My Amnesiac Husband Asked for Divorce, I Laughed and Walked Away Chapter 10

On the drive back to the villa, the car was quiet. 

Finn drove; I rode shotgun. The heat was high, and 

I was drowsy. 

“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll wake you.” 

I leaned back, watching the streetlights blur past, 

and drifted off. 

I don’t know how long I slept–but when I woke, we 

were parked in front of the villa. He hadn’t woken 

me, hadn’t gotten out. Engine off, he leaned back in his seat, watching me. 

The car was dark–only streetlight falling across his face. 

“You’re awake.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” 

“You were sleeping well,” he said. “Good for you and the baby.” 

I rubbed my eyes and reached for the seatbelt. He caught my hand. 

“Tessa.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I found another page in the diary tonight. July 

2019. Your birthday night. I walked you home, and 

you stood at the door for a long time and asked 

me-” 

“Asked what?” 

His throat moved. “You asked if I’d ever regret it. I 

said no. And you smiled–said you believed me.” 

He let go of my hand and looked out the 

windshield. 

“There was a water stain on that page. Must have 

been-” 

“I cried,” I said. 

He turned to me. 

“That night, I went home and cried myself to sleep 

-cried the whole night through,” I said, managing 

a smile. “Because no one had ever spoken to me 

with such certainty before. You were the first.” 

He looked at me, something churning behind his 

eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“Tessa.” 

When those two words came out, my heart seized. 

“I might not remember everything yet. But I’m 

trying.” 

“You once said something–I wrote it down on the 

last page of my diary.” 

“What?” 

He turned to face me, looking into my eyes. 

“You said: [Finn, if you ever lose me, I’ll be really 

sad. Not mad at you–just sad.]” 

My eyes stung. 

That was our second year of marriage. He’d been 

gone on a month–long business trip. I’d sent him 

that as a voice message. 

He’d written it down. 

“So,” he said, reaching out–thumb brushing my 

tears away-“I didn’t lose you, did I?” 

I nodded through the tears. 

“No.” 

“Then let’s go home.” 

He opened his door, came around to mine, helped 

me out. 

His hand was steady. His palm warm. 

I stood at the villa entrance and looked back at 

him. 

“Are you leaving tonight?” 

He paused. 

“…Do you want me to?” 

I didn’t answer. I pushed the door open and glanced back. 

He stood under the streetlight, a slow smile 

spreading. 

“Okay. I’m staying.”