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Chapter 5

Autor: City Scribe
Vincent frowned.

“Christine, don’t you recognize me?”

The moment I heard his voice, I froze. It felt like someone had said those exact same words to me a long time ago. Then, all at once, familiar voices began echoing in my ears.

“Christine, wherever I stand among men, that’s where you’ll stand among women.

“Christine, I love you. From now on, I want to watch the sunset with you every day from the top of the Empire State Building.”

People say that when you forget someone, the first thing you forget is their voice. However, when Vincent spoke, it was familiar.

I lifted my head again and looked at his striking face. My voice came out slightly hoarse.

“So it’s you, Vincent. Why? Am I, your old flame, that hard to let go of, so much that you had to come see me again and again?”

Vincent let out a soft laugh.

“I came to see if you were dead. I had a dream last night that you were dead.”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

“Well, sorry to disappoint you. People like me live long lives. I’m doing just fine.”

Irritated, Vincent snapped, “Christine, do you have to talk to me like that?”

“Ever since I got out and saw you, I haven’t been able to figure it out. How did eight years change you this much?”

I stiffened for a second and then shrugged.

“Maybe I didn’t change. Maybe you just never really knew me. This is who I’ve always been.”

“Is that so?” Vincent stared straight into my eyes, searching for something, but he found nothing.

Then, almost without thinking, he asked, “So, these past eight years… have you been with anyone else?”

At my side, my hand clenched ever so slightly. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and smiled, almost as if I found him naive.

“Of course. You didn’t think that while you were in prison, I’d wait for you, did you? You always wanted to know why I never visited you once in those eight years, right? It’s because I was busy traveling the world with my second, third, fourth, and fifth boyfriends. You know those places you used to talk about? The Alps, Norway, Iceland—I’ve been to all of them with them. The snow’s overrated. It’s nothing special.”

Vincent could no longer keep his composure. He grabbed my wrist suddenly, his voice low. “Christine! If you’ve had so many boyfriends, then why hasn’t a single one married you? If they loved you so much, why didn’t they give you anything? Eight years later, and you’re still living in a place like this?”

Back when we were in love, I would know from just one look or slight change in his tone whether he was happy, upset, or angry, and I still did; I knew I had hit a nerve.

Vincent had always been possessive. Anything that once belonged to him, even if it had to be destroyed, couldn’t be touched by anyone else, and that included me.

However, I looked at him quietly and said casually, “Mr. Vincent, not everyone thinks a big house is better. Besides, living here makes my boyfriends feel sorry for me. Wasn’t that the case with you back then?”

At that, Vincent slowly let go of my wrist. It was hard to tell from the expression on his face if it was frustration, disappointment, or disgust.

“If I could, I’d want to forget you one day. Do you know? Because of you, I don’t like New York anymore. So, after I marry Elena, I’m leaving with her, and we’ll go somewhere that’s summer all year round. We’re going to Miami,” he said.

With that, he turned and walked downstairs. As I watched him disappear, it felt like a thorn had been driven into my heart. The pain spread endlessly.

I had no idea how long I stood there alone by the door. In the end, I called a cab and went to Mount Sinai Hospital.

Facing my familiar attending physician, Dr. Harrison, I spoke first. “Dr. Harrison, today, I suddenly forgot someone very important to me. Is there any way to make sure I don’t forget him?”

Dr. Harrison’s voice was heavy with concern. “Miss Christine, your condition is in its late stage, and your memory will only keep getting worse. Eventually, you may not even remember yourself, let alone someone else.”

I clenched my hand unconsciously.

“I don’t care about myself. As long as I can remember him, that’s enough.”

Dr. Harrison let out a quiet sigh.

“Who could be more important than yourself? This person you love so much, what’s his name?”

A faint smile bloomed across my pale face as I answered, “Vincent. His name is Vincent Medici.”
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  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 20

    On April 20th, Vincent went to the Queens Cemetery for the last time. He was wearing the same dark gray coat he had on during his first date with Christine. Eight years had passed, and the coat now looked worn, with the cuffs frayed. He didn’t know why he had never thrown it away. Maybe he forgot, or maybe he simply couldn’t bring himself to.He sat down in front of my gravestone and placed the white chrysanthemums carefully beside it.“The weather is nice today,” he said softly. “Better than yesterday and the day before. I sat in the cathedral for the whole afternoon and then went to the Mexican restaurant for dinner. The owner isn’t there anymore. It’s someone new now. The risotto isn’t as good as yours. I only took two bites before I stopped eating.”From his pocket, he took out a diary. The edges were worn from being turned too many times. He opened it to the first page.“Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vinc

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 19

    It was April, and spring had finally sprung in New York. In Queens Cemetery, the grass had begun to turn green again. A few unnamed wildflowers had grown beside my gravestone, as if they had decided to stay where I once was.Vincent came every afternoon. Sometimes, he brought a book; sometimes, he brought nothing at all, but he would sit by the gravestone for hours. John would sometimes follow him, standing far away at the cemetery gate. From there, he watched Vincent’s silhouette. The man who once made New York’s underworld tremble now spent his days sitting in front of a grave, quietly letting an afternoon pass him by. Sometimes, Vincent would speak to the gravestone. Other times, he just sat in silence, like two stones facing each other.One day, after returning from the cemetery, Vincent called John into the study.“John. Do something for me.”“Whatever you need.”“Sort out all my assets. Everything.”Taken aback, John asked, “Everything?”“Everything. Family shares, real es

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 18

    Today was March 11th, and it had been nearly three months since I jumped from the top of the Empire State Building. Vincent went alone to Rockefeller Center. The observatory telescope was still there. He dropped in a coin but didn’t look through it. Instead, he stood on the viewing platform outside for a long time.Today was the day we first looked at the stars together. Back then, I was twenty-four, working as a waitress in that Mexican restaurant, while he was twenty-five, heir to the Medici family. He made up the name of a star to fool me, yet I believed him with my bright smile. Every March 11th after that, I came here. No matter whether I remembered the way or even remembered the star’s position, I always came.Vincent took my diary out of his pocket and turned to the last page of the day I had come.“March 11th. Rockefeller Center. Today, I didn’t see the star. The clouds in New York were too thick, but it’s okay. I remember what Vincent said. That star is called Christine, an

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 17

    In mid-January, Vincent received an email from Mount Sinai Hospital. The sender was Dr. Harrison.“Mr. Vincent, while organizing Miss Christine’s records, I found a video she recorded last year. I had suggested she make it at the time to document the progression of her condition. She stored it in the hospital system and instructed me to deliver it to you after her passing. The video file is attached—Harrison.”The attachment was large. It took Vincent a full ten minutes to download. He sat in his study, the curtains drawn tightly shut. The computer screen was the only source of light in the room.The video began. I was sitting in Dr. Harrison’s office. I wore a gray sweater, my hair tied back, revealing a thin, almost fragile face. My gaze was slightly unfocused, but I was trying my best to look into the camera.“Today is… wait. Let me ask. Dr. Harrison, what’s the date today?”Off camera, Dr. Harrison said, “March 11th.”“March 11th,” I repeated and suddenly smiled. “Today is Ma

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 16

    On December 25, Christmas Day, New York had its first snowfall of the winter. Vincent went alone to the Queens Cemetery. A thin layer of snow had settled on my gravestone. He gently brushed it away and placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in front of it.On the stone was engraved that same sentence, “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world.”He crouched down and traced the carved letters with his fingers.“It’s Christmas today,” he said softly. “You used to love Christmas. Every year, you’d hang lights all over the apartment. I used to say, what’s the point of decorating a two-hundred-square-foot place like that, but you said the bigger, the better. It was so that when I came back, I could see it from far away. Then, I came back, but your lights weren’t on anymore.”The snow grew heavier, falling on his hair and shoulders. He didn’t have an umbrella. He just stayed there, crouched in front of the grave.After a long while, footsteps came from behind him. John

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 15

    After Elena left, Vincent stayed in the Mexican restaurant for a long time. The owner eventually came over and asked if he wanted anything else. Vincent simply shook his head, left a few bills on the table, and stood up to leave.Outside, New York’s night wind hit him along with flashes of neon light. The streets were crowded, but no one paid attention to the man in the black shirt walking through them. He walked slowly, almost aimlessly, until he found himself at the Brooklyn Bridge. Cars streamed across it nonstop, their headlights shining. On the pedestrian walkway, joggers passed by, and couples stopped occasionally to take photos.Vincent walked to the middle of the bridge, the exact spot where I had once crouched down. He crouched there now, resting his hands on his knees, just like I had done that day. From that angle, the Brooklyn skyline flickered in and out of the night. I had written about this place in my diary.“Today I crouched down on the Brooklyn Bridge for a long ti

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