My Amnesiac Husband Asked for Divorce, I Laughed and Walked Away Chapter 04
Zoe Morgan’s wedding came quickly.
At the hotel entrance, Zoe and her husband were greeting guests. When she saw me, she pinched my waist. “Tessa—are you pregnant? You’re starting to show.”
I blinked. Pregnant? No way.
“When was your last period?”
“I don’t remember. It’s always been irregular—sometimes two or three months between.”
“Don’t brush it off,” she said, poking my forehead. “Go get a blood test. Don’t be stupid about this.”
She suddenly waved behind me. “Hey! Mason! Over here!”
I turned. A man in a white shirt approached, holding a camera. It was the guy from the photo—Mason Hale. Tall. Standing next to me, his shadow swallowed me whole.
“Mason started an MCN company,” Zoe said. “He needs a content director who knows photography. Didn’t you love shooting back in college? Talk to him—you two might hit it off.”
She winked and moved on to other guests.
Mason and I found a quiet corner. He looked even younger than in the photo—white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, lean forearms showing.
“Tessa, you look better than your photos.” His voice had a raspy warmth to it. “Zoe showed me your feed. I could tell you’ve got an eye.”
He leaned in when he talked, no sense of distance. When the conversation turned to photography, he lit up, tracing compositions on the tabletop with his fingers, stars in his eyes.
He had something completely different from Finn. Something alive. Unfiltered. Burning.
We talked film cameras and new lenses, the words flowing. I hadn’t laughed this freely in ages.
Then a commotion at the entrance pulled my attention.
Finn walked in—black suit, tailored. Serena on his arm, moon-white dress. They were heading this way.
The necklace around her neck hit me like a fist to the chest. Pink diamond. I knew it too well.
Last year at a charity gala, I’d worn the same necklace as Mrs. Whitmore. She’d ripped hers off and thrown it in the trash. “Bad luck.” I’d cried in the bathroom for an hour.
When Finn heard about it, he held me and promised to design me a necklace that would be one of a kind. He’d spent over six months on the sketches.
Now that necklace was finally made—and hanging around someone else’s neck.
My chest went tight. The music, the laughter, everything faded.
Then the world went black.
As I fell, I heard Finn’s voice—changed, panicked: “Tessa!”