Chapter 002: The Man Who Forgot Me

Selene's POV

It's been a month since my name changed to Mrs. Ashbourne.

Thirty days of being a wife in name only to a man I had never spoken to before we were forced together by paper and by cruelty.

I sat in the kitchen with my lukewarm coffee, the quiet pressing into my skin like a second layer.

Thirty days of solitude, interrupted only by the sounds of machines sustaining his life and my voice filling the void. I've constantly cleaned his immobile body, brushed his teeth, and cared for a man during his endless slumber. I whispered stories to him as he lay still, like a corpse, anything to make the oppressive atmosphere feel less like a grave.

Even his family cut him off, abandoning him like discarded furniture the moment the doctor spoke of possibilities of extensive brain damage and unlikely recovery. There was no nurse, no international specialist flying in, just me.

Uncle Benedict was clear during his last visit; his word still made my stomach turn.

“You don't have to keep playing Florence Nightingale,” he said, adjusting his pricey watch. “We will settle you off as a young widow soon enough.”

He said it so casually, like he had already written Lucien off.

The irony stings. Lucien Ashbourne, the man who built an empire before turning thirty and who intimidated senators and CEOs, is now discarded as though he were an outgrown suit when he became a burden. This was a man who graced Forbes magazine and whose handshake sealed lucrative deals.

“One crash, and everyone vanished.” I whispered as I waved my head in disbelief. Even Cassia, the woman he was supposed to marry, walked away the second he stopped being a public asset.

So, it was just me. And I didn’t stay out of love. I stayed because walking away from someone who had no one felt like a betrayal. I knew what that felt like.

I reached out to a local doctor, Doctor Williams, using my own limited savings, money I managed to set aside from part-time jobs during college to pay him. After the wedding, my father sent me $20,000 in an envelope, the most he had ever given me, and it needed to last.

Every morning, I prepare herbs as the local doctor has taught me. I learnt to recognise slight changes in his breathing, then turn him to avoid body sores and exercise his limbs to prevent his muscles from wasting away completely.

"I never knew you," I spoke into his sleeping face one night, adjusting his blanket. "But I couldn’t leave someone who had no one."

Three days ago, Benedict had brought more documents.

“Just sign and send them in.”

I nodded, obedient and small like they liked me, and then spent the whole night reading through every clause.

If I had signed what he wanted… Lucien would have lost everything. All of it.

His legacy, his company, his assets.

I didn’t sleep that night. I rewrote every page, fixed every loophole, and protected him in a way no one else seemed willing to. I knew Benedict would find out eventually. I had no idea what he would do.

I jolted back to reality when I noticed my coffee was finished.

It was time for our routine.

I am gradually getting used to my mid-routine, gently wiping his face with a warm cloth while discussing a book I was reading.

"The hero's an arrogant jerk," I said, dipping the spoon into his herbal tonic. "He thinks every woman should worship him. Sound familiar?"

Carefully, I feed him a warm spoonful of herbal tonic, trying to avoid spilling it over the marble floors.

Then, suddenly, he sneezed.

I jumped back, spilling the spoon’s content all over the place, my heart racing, and then quickly I grabbed a towel to clean his face.

His eyes fluttered open faintly like storm clouds, unfocused yet but alive.

"Lucien?" I whispered his name, stepping closer, "Lucien, can you hear me?"

He looked up to the ceiling without giving me a glance, but his breathing had changed. It was deeper, more deliberate.

Instantly, I rushed to call Dr. Williams.

When he arrived an hour later, Lucien’s eyes tracked movement. The doctor examined him with gentle hands, checking the reflexes I had been fervently hoping would return.

"It’s a miracle," Dr. Williams said quietly. "Most families would have given up weeks ago." He looked at me with a hint of respect. "But this woman stayed. She made all the difference."

He prescribed stronger herbs and left new instructions. He left immediately after that and did not linger. Miracles come at a cost, and I was well aware that my funds were nearly empty.

***

Over the weeks, his hands grew steadier. He drinks water without dropping the cup. He neither talks to me nor looks me in the eyes and never attempts to ask me any questions.

I was impressed with every small improvement he made. For the first time he sat up without my help; he managed to eat solid food, and then the day he turned toward the window like he remembered that sunlight existed.

Then, I started keeping journals for every milestone like a proud mother. His reflexes were improving. His coordination was getting stronger. But he remained silent; he couldn't look me in the eyes and didn't ask for my name and didn't reply when I spoke to him.

“Gratitude was never my reward; life was.” I mumbled these words every time and kept going.

***

This morning began like the others, except he was already sitting up.

I entered with a tray of breakfast as usual, anticipating the normal silence.

“What’s your name?” he asked, voice hoarse but clear.

I nearly dropped the tray. Hearing his voice felt surreal after weeks of one-sided conversations.

"My name is Selene," I said, while I laid down the food tray on the table.

He blinked. “Did my grandmother hire you? Where is she? Haven’t seen her.”

The question caught me off guard. "No... I’m your wife."

There was a long pause.

Lucien stared at me harder but cold this time. "You must be kidding."

My chest tightened. "I’m not."

Who the hell are you?" His voice was razor-sharp. "What did you do to Cassia?"

The mention of her name hit like a slap.

After everything...the sleepless nights, the careful nursing, my college savings spent to keep him alive, and he asked for her?

The woman who called him “half-dead” and walked away without looking back?

I stood frozen beside his bed, breakfast forgotten, as the man I fought to save looked at me as a stranger. Like I was the villain in his story.

Like I was the one who abandoned him.