The Name He Wasn’t Supposed to Remember

The first time Nathaniel Vale called my name, I knew something was wrong.

Not because he said it.

But because he wasn't supposed to remember it.

“...Elena.”

Napahinto ako sa pag-aayos ng mga dokumento sa ibabaw ng mahogany desk.

For three seconds, wala akong ginawa kundi tumingin sa kanya.

Nathaniel was lying on the hospital bed, a small cut near his forehead and his right hand wrapped in bandages.

His face was unusually pale.

Pero kahit may mga pasa sa mukha niya, intimidating pa rin siya.

The same man who could silence an entire boardroom with one look.

The same man who had never called me by my first name in the three years I'd worked for him.

“Sir?”

Bahagya niyang iminulat ang mga mata.

Then he looked at me.

Not like an employer looking at his assistant.

Not like a man looking at a stranger.

He looked at me like he had been searching for me.

For years.

“Where... have you been?”

Napakunot-noo ako.

“I've been here, sir.”

“No.”

Mahina ang boses niya.

But certain.

“You left.”

I swallowed.

“Hindi po ako umalis.”

His fingers tightened around the blanket.

“You promised me you wouldn't.”

Napatigil ako.

“Promised you what?”

Hindi siya sumagot.

Instead, he closed his eyes.

Akala ko tapos na ang usapan.

Until he whispered—

“Not again.”

Nanlamig ang mga kamay ko.

Because I had heard those words before.

I just didn't know where.

---

Three hours earlier, everything had been normal.

At least, that's what I thought.

“Ms. Reyes.”

Napalingon ako sa receptionist.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Vale wants you in his office.”

“Now?”

Tumango siya.

I checked my watch.

8:47 a.m.

“May meeting po siya at nine.”

“I know.”

She lowered her voice.

“He specifically asked for you.”

Napabuntong-hininga ako.

“Of course he did.”

Three years of working for Nathaniel Vale had taught me three things.

Never be late.

Never forget his coffee.

And never ask questions he didn't want answered.

I picked up the folder on my desk and walked toward his office.

The glass door was already open.

I knocked twice.

“Come in.”

Pumasok ako.

“Sir, you asked for me?”

He was standing beside the window.

Black suit.

White shirt.

No tie.

Pero hindi iyon ang napansin ko.

It was his face.

Nathaniel Vale looked uneasy.

No.

Not uneasy.

Afraid.

“Close the door.”

Sinunod ko.

“Sit.”

Umupo ako sa chair in front of his desk.

He remained standing.

For a few seconds, he simply stared at me.

Then he asked—

“Do you know why I hired you?”

I blinked.

“Because I was qualified?”

“No.”

Typical Nathaniel.

Direct.

Cold.

He walked toward his desk.

“You were the only applicant who didn't lie during the interview.”

Napangiti ako nang bahagya.

“That's a strange compliment.”

“It wasn't a compliment.”

“Okay.”

He stopped.

Then he reached into a drawer.

And placed something on the desk.

A photograph.

My smile disappeared.

It was old.

Very old.

Two children stood beside each other.

A little girl in a white dress.

And a boy beside her.

The edges of the photograph were faded.

I leaned closer.

“Who are they?”

Nathaniel didn't answer.

Instead—

“Do you recognize the girl?”

I looked at the photograph again.

Shoulder-length hair.

White dress.

A thin bracelet around her wrist.

Something inside me shifted.

A strange feeling.

Like recognizing a song I'd forgotten I knew.

“No.”

“Look again.”

I did.

Still nothing.

“No, sir.”

Nathaniel took the photograph from my hands.

“Good.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

He opened the drawer.

“Because if you recognized her, I'd have to fire you.”

My stomach dropped.

“Excuse me?”

Before he could answer, his phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

And all the color drained from his face.

He answered.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then his jaw tightened.

“I told you not to call this number.”

Another pause.

His eyes slowly moved toward me.

“She's here.”

My heart began beating faster.

Whoever was on the other line said something.

Nathaniel's expression hardened.

“Don't touch her.”

The call ended.

I stood.

“Sir, what was that about?”

“Go home.”

“What?”

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“But the nine o'clock meeting—”

“Cancel it.”

“Sir—”

“Elizabeth—”

He stopped.

His eyes met mine.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he corrected himself.

“Elena.”

There it was again.

My name.

But this time, his voice wasn't cold.

It was afraid.

“Go home.”

“Why?”

He stared at me as if he was trying to decide whether telling me the truth would put me in more danger.

Then he said quietly—

“I don't know who has found you.”

---

I should have listened.

I didn't.

Ten minutes later, I heard a crash from the parking area.

Then screaming.

Then—

a gunshot.

---

The next thing I remembered was waking up on a hospital floor.

There was blood on my sleeve.

Someone was shouting.

Someone was crying.

And Nathaniel was lying several feet away from me.

Unconscious.

That was how we ended up here.

And that's why, at 11:36 that morning, I was standing beside his hospital bed when he suddenly called me by a name he wasn't supposed to know.

---

“Doctor?”

The doctor entered the room and checked Nathaniel's monitor.

“His condition is stable.”

“Is the memory loss serious?”

“It's difficult to say. He experienced significant trauma.”

“But he said my name.”

The doctor glanced at Nathaniel.

“That's a good sign.”

I almost laughed.

“It isn't.”

“Why?”

I looked at Nathaniel.

“Because he has never called me by my first name.”

Before the doctor could respond, Nathaniel's eyes opened.

He looked directly at me.

“Who are you?”

My chest tightened.

“You don't remember me?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

Three years.

I had worked for him for three years.

I knew his schedule.

His coffee.

His habits.

His temper.

I knew when he was angry.

I knew when he was lying.

And now—

he didn't know me.

“I'm Elena Reyes,” I whispered.

Nothing.

“Your executive assistant.”

He looked away.

“Okay.”

One word.

That was all I got.

I forced a smile.

“Get some rest, sir.”

I turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Napahinto ako.

“Sir?”

Nathaniel was staring at me again.

“I've seen you before.”

“Of course.”

“No.”

His voice became quieter.

“Not here.”

I slowly turned around.

“Where?”

He pressed his fingers against his temple.

“I don't know.”

His breathing changed.

Then—

“There's a house.”

Nanlamig ako.

“What house?”

His eyes squeezed shut.

“Fire.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“Everything was burning.”

He inhaled sharply.

“There was a woman.”

“Who?”

“She was screaming.”

“Who was she?”

He opened his eyes.

And looked straight at me.

“I don't know.”

A pause.

“But she called you by another name.”

Hindi ako makahinga.

“What name?”

His lips parted.

He hesitated.

Then—

“Mia.”

---

I left the hospital without saying another word.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit.

Maybe I was scared.

Maybe I didn't want to hear anything else.

Or maybe—

because there was something Nathaniel didn't know.

Mia wasn't a stranger to me.

It was the name my mother used to call me when I was little.

A name I hadn't heard in years.

A name I thought I'd forgotten.

Until that moment.

I got home at 7:18 that evening.

My mother was already asleep.

I went straight to my room.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit, pero hindi mawala sa isip ko ang sinabi ni Nathaniel.

Mia.

I opened the drawer beside my bed.

Inside was an old metal box.

I hadn't opened it in years.

I didn't even remember putting it there.

Pero nang makita ko iyon, alam kong kailangan ko itong buksan.

I unlocked it.

Inside were old photographs.

A hospital bracelet.

And a small silver necklace.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the first photograph.

A family picture.

My mother.

My father.

Me.

I turned it over.

Nothing.

I picked up another.

Then another.

Until one photograph slipped from my fingers.

It landed face-up on the floor.

I froze.

It was the same photograph Nathaniel had shown me that morning.

The little girl.

The boy beside her.

The white dress.

The bracelet.

But there was something Nathaniel hadn't shown me.

I turned the photograph over.

Four words were written in my mother's handwriting.

Never find him again.

My heart began pounding.

Who was she talking about?

I turned the photograph around.

And looked at the boy's face.

For the first time, something inside my memory cracked open.

A flash.

Smoke.

A little boy's hand holding mine.

Someone screaming.

And a voice—

“Run, Mia!”

Napaatras ako.

The photograph slipped from my hand.

Because I knew that boy.

Not from the photograph.

Not from the hospital.

But from somewhere buried so deep inside me that I had spent years forgetting it existed.

The boy standing beside little Mia...

was Nathaniel Vale.

And suddenly, I understood why my mother had spent my entire life telling me to forget him.