🌙 Chapter 3: A Memory Lost, A Heart Remembering
The sterile air inside the doctor's consultation room carried a quiet stillness, punctuated only by the steady ticking of a wall clock. Seojun sat upright, both elbows resting tensely on his knees, hands clenched together as if in prayer.
Across from him, the doctor sighed softly, folding his hands over the desk.
"Well…" the doctor began, meeting Seojun's eyes. "As you might already be aware, Miss Jiwoo is an amnesia patient."
Seojun's breath caught in his throat.
"Amnesia?" he whispered, voice nearly silent.
The doctor nodded solemnly. "Yes. From what we gathered from her medical history and reaction today, it's likely she experienced a psychological trigger—something from her past suddenly resurfaced. That kind of shock, especially in someone who hasn't regained their memory yet, can easily overwhelm the brain. Hence the fainting."
Seojun's lips parted slightly, but no words came. His pulse thundered in his ears.
The doctor continued gently, "From a medical standpoint, I'd advise against revealing too much about her past all at once. It could result in a stronger mental shock, which might worsen her condition. Sometimes, the mind forgets to protect itself."
"But…" Seojun began, voice tight. "If I can't tell her who she is, how will she ever remember?"
"Memories have a strange way of returning," the doctor replied. "It could be a scent, a voice, a location—anything subtle. I suggest small, patient efforts. Rebuild trust. Be part of her daily life, but don't pressure her to remember. Let her mind heal on its own terms."
He stood and placed a reassuring hand on Seojun's shoulder. "Stay positive. Take care of her. Sometimes… the heart remembers before the mind does."
Seojun lowered his head in a silent bow. "Thank you, Doctor."
With that, he left the office, but his steps felt heavier than before. Each one echoed down the long, dim hallway like a question he didn't know how to answer.
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Seojun's POV
Amnesia.
That one word had never sounded so cruel before.
Jiwoo… my Jiwoo… had lost her memories?
I leaned my back against the cool hospital wall just outside her room, my head tipped up, trying to blink away the burn in my eyes.
She didn't remember me.
She didn't remember us.
She didn't remember Taehyun.
For years, I tortured myself over her disappearance. I blamed her, questioned what I had done wrong, why she left without a trace. I cursed every sunrise that rose without her and every night I spent holding our son, trying to answer questions no child should have to ask.
Why did Momma go away?
When will she come back?
And now—now I was standing in the same building as her, yet she felt farther away than ever.
I took a shaky breath, turned the doorknob, and walked into her room.
The beeping of the monitor, the hum of the AC, the soft white sheets wrapped around her—everything felt quiet. Too quiet.
She lay there with her head tilted slightly to the side, strands of hair spread across the pillow like ink against paper. Her breathing was soft, peaceful. She looked exactly the same—still that same innocent face that I fell in love with the moment I met her.
But now… that face didn't recognize me.
I sat down beside her and took her hand gently into mine. It was warm. Familiar. Fragile.
I raised it to my lips and kissed it gently, letting the tears I had held in for hours now finally brim in my eyes.
"I searched for you," I whispered, voice cracking. "Every day. Every night. For four years. I thought you left me. I thought… you left Taehyun."
I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand. "And now you're here, and I don't even know if I exist in your world anymore. Or if I'm just… a shadow in your lost memories."
I bowed my head, resting it gently on the back of her hand, my shoulders shaking. "I swore I'd never forgive you for disappearing. I told myself I'd make you explain everything when I found you. But now… how can I be angry when you don't even remember me?"
A tear finally rolled down his cheek.
You're here, but still so far away.
And then—just as I was about to slip deeper into that hollow place inside my heart—the door creaked open behind me.
I turned.
"Sir," my personal assistant said gently, stepping halfway into the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you, but… little master was crying and asking for you. I… I had no choice but to bring him here."
Seojun rose instantly as a small blur of energy dashed past his assistant and into the room.
"Appaaaa!" Taehyun cried, tears streaming down his cheeks.
The boy ran straight into Seojun's legs, wrapping his small arms tightly around them. His tiny fingers clutched his father's trousers like they were his lifeline.
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The hospital room lay in heavy silence. Seojun sat beside Jiwoo's bed, cradling Taehyun on his lap. The boy had cried himself into hiccups, his small hands balled into fists against his father's chest. Seojun continued to stroke his son's back gently, trying to calm both their hearts.
The monitor beside Jiwoo beeped softly, rhythmically. She lay still—peaceful, but far away. Seojun's eyes lingered on her face, studying every feature like it was a miracle. His hand reached for hers again, needing to feel the warmth, to ground himself in the reality that she was here.
But the ache wouldn't leave his chest.
Then, a soft voice broke the silence.
"Appa…"
It was faint.
Seojun froze.
His heart stopped. His hand tightened around Taehyun's small shoulder.
The voice again.
"Appa…"
Seojun turned his gaze toward the bed.
Jiwoo's lashes fluttered.
And slowly—like the rising sun peeking past a storm—her eyes opened.
"Jiwoo…" he breathed, standing immediately.
Taehyun jolted, twisting to look at her too, wide-eyed.
She blinked slowly, gaze roaming around the unfamiliar white walls, the ceiling, the machines.
Then… her eyes found him.
Seojun stepped closer, hesitant but hopeful. "Jiwoo… you're awake. Are you alright? Does anything hurt?"
Her eyes locked on his. She stared for a few seconds, brows twitching as though trying to place his face in her mind.
And then—
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Who are you, sir?"
Silence. Thick. Crushing.
Seojun's breath caught mid-chest.
That question. The one he had feared more than anything else. The one the doctor had warned him about. It struck like lightning.
She didn't know him.
She really didn't remember.
Jiwoo stared at him with confusion in her eyes—not fear, not hostility, just… unfamiliarity. As though he were a stranger who had wandered into the wrong room.
Seojun opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His lips quivered around a name he didn't know if he had the right to speak anymore.
Then—
"Momma!"
The small, trembling voice pierced through the air like a spark in the dark.
Taehyun slid off Seojun's lap and ran toward the hospital bed with wide, glistening eyes.
"Appa, Momma came back!" he said joyfully, turning to Seojun with his boxy grin that mirrored his own.