My Amnesiac Husband Asked for Divorce, I Laughed and Walked Away Chapter 11

My Amnesiac Husband Asked for Divorce, I Laughed and Walked Away Chapter 11

The last day of the cooling–off period. 

Finn arrived at the villa early. I was in front of the 

mirror, two jackets in my hands–off–white or light 

gray. 

“Which one?” I asked. 

He leaned on the doorframe. “Off–white.” 

“Why?” 

“It looks good on you,” he said. “I remember.” 

My hand stopped. 

“What do you remember?” 

“I remember you had an off–white coat. One winter, you wore it to the office. I watched you all day.” 

He took the coat from the hanger, shook it out, 

and draped it over my shoulders. 

“This one.” 

I didn’t tell him I’d given that coat away three years. 

ago. But when he said “I remember,” his voice was 

so sure–I believed him. 

We didn’t talk much on the way. He drove 

smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console–close to mine. 

At a red light, he reached over and took my hand. 

“Nervous?” 

“No.” 

“Your hand is shaking.” 

I looked down. It was. 

“…I’m cold.” 

He smiled and turned the heat up. 

Outside the county clerk’s office, he parked and 

turned to me. 

“Today’s decision is yours.” 

I looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot–another 

sleepless night–but his gaze was steady, his lips 

curved slightly. 

“Decided?” 

I took a breath and opened the door. 

“Remarry.” 

He blinked. Then he smiled–a smile I hadn’t seen 

in a long time. His eyes crinkled, his whole face lit 

1. up. 

He led me inside. The staff checked the file, 

looked up: “Your cooling–off period isn’t over- 

today’s the last day.” 

“I know,” Finn said. “We’re not here to divorce.” 

“We’re here to marry.” 

The staff blinked, checked the system. “Mr. 

Caldwell, if you’re withdrawing the application, 

you’ll need to fill out-” 

“I’ve got it.” He pulled a completed form from his 

briefcase. “I printed it last night.” 

I leaned over to look–every field filled, date 

already signed. 

“When did you fill this out?” 

“Last night.” 

“All night?” 

“Mm.” 

His handwriting was precise. Like he was drafting 

a major proposal. 

The staff checked it, tapped a few keys. 

“Application withdrawn. Your marriage remains 

valid.” 

Just like that. Under ten minutes. 

I held the withdrawal receipt, turning it over and 

over. Finn took it from me, folded it, and put it in 

his pocket. 

“Stop looking. It won’t fly away.” 

“I’m afraid this is a dream.” 

He paused. Then he pulled me into his arms, chin 

resting on my head. 

“It’s not a dream.” 

“Tessa. Let’s go home.” 

I clutched his coat front, buried my face, and sobbed openly. 

He let me cry, gently patting my back. 

“Finn,” I said through tears, “if you lose your memory again, I’m really running off with the baby. Eight million dollars is enough for three lifetimes.” 

He laughed, his chest vibrating against me. 

“I had my assistant make three copies of the diary. One in the office safe, one in my study, one in your nightstand. If it happens again, I’ll read it every day -memorize it if I have to.” 

I laughed through the tears, nearly smearing snot 

on his jacket. 

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Light. 

“Home.”