Chapter 2

Marcus POV

People said power was strong and that it would give you the peace, the strength that you think you lost, but no one warned me that regret always wrecked far more.

Regret of something that could have been avoided from happening.

For five years, I had carried those horrible feelings.

My reflection stared back at me from the mirror inside my private offer. The image of a perfect mayor. A man who had everything under control. Who can do and undo things just in a blink of an eye.

Lies. 

All of it.

All I did was form out a smile like I am fine and everything would be alright to them. 

None of them knows about my predicament or what I face behind the scenes.

“Sir?” A soft knock came between my thoughts.

And he came in. My personal assistant, Jonah, the one person besides my doctor who saw the glimpses of my pain.

“We should leave for your checkup.”

I exhaled slowly. “Right.”

I grabbed my coat and stepped out of the office, ignoring my secretary, Melissa, the strange woman who suddenly came from nowhere one evening, claiming she was pregnant and we are finally having a baby. 

Having a baby? When she wasn't even my Elena.

Perhaps I had lost my memory about her but I also do not want to remember the part that involved her.

Yes, I lost part of my memories. 

Five years ago, I got diagnosed, and suddenly didn't remember anything anymore, except for my personal assistant and my wife, Elena.

“Mayor Ashford, I can have your coffee ready in the car…”

“No.” My voice cut through her words sharper than intended.

I watched as she froze. “Do you need anything else?”

“Yes.” I didn't look at her. “The one thing you can't give me.”

Her brows furrowed. “But…but I am carrying your ba…”

“Shut the fuck up!” I walked up to her, annoyed and almost strangling her. “Whenever you mention that kind of thing to me, I will make sure you do not see the end of that day before you are out of my life. You slut!”

Jonah walked over to me, his hand resting on my shoulder as if to calm my nerves. 

He was my best pal, someone who sees me for who I am. If I could say.

“Calm down, Mayor. Let's leave.”

The car ride was quiet except for the occasional buzz of my phone. Searches, Alerts, background checks on dead ends. For five years my team had scoured through databases, employment records, flight logs, hospitals, even churches for that one woman that I have wronged. 

Elena Ashford.

But there was nothing. 

I wasn’t sure when my search shifted from guilt-driven responsibility… to desperate need.

Maybe it was the first night I woke up gasping, forgetting where I was.

Maybe it was the day I called my personal physician because I lost three hours and didn’t remember a single one of them.

Or maybe… maybe it was the moment I realized that the only memories I never forgot—no matter how sick I became—were the ones of her.

Her laugh, her eyes, her voice.

Her whispers of endless ‘i love you ‘s

My condition — Memory Erosion, the doctor called it. A neurological degenerative pattern triggered by trauma and stress. 

I had both in abundance.

The blackouts were getting worse. Longer and even deeper. Sometimes I woke up still dressed from the day before, not knowing the date, not knowing a meeting I had attended, not knowing what my own mother had told me on the phone.

But I remembered Elena.

Every fucking detail.

It was the one constant I clung to.

The doctor’s office had a vague scent of lavender, perhaps to make the place less antiseptic and suffocating. Dr. Wallace stood waiting with that too-calm expression doctors wore when reading bad news.

“Mayor Ashford,” he greeted, motioning me inside.

“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered.

I sat still, unblinking, as he studied the latest results.

When he finally exhaled, my stomach twisted into fear. “It's worsening,” he said gently. “We predicted this, but it's progressing faster than expected.”

Of course, it was.

“Are the memory episodes…”

“More frequent,” I finished for him. “Longer.”

He nodded. “That tracks.” He sighed heavily and I somehow knew where this was going. “Marcus… you need someone who can help you anchor your memories. Someone from your past. Someone familiar. Someone you can never forget even in your memory loss. If not for emotional grounding, then for medical necessity.”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t have anyone familiar.”

The lies.

Dr. Wallace gave me a long, knowing look. “I said what I must. What you do with it is your choice.”

My mind drifted to the stack of incomplete case files from private investigators. The thousands I spent every month searching for a woman who didn’t want to be found. A woman I had no right to look for. A woman who probably hated me so thoroughly she never spoke my name again.

And yet…

Her memory was tighter in my head.

“Your interview is in an hour,” Jonah reminded quietly as we left the clinic. “The network is expecting you.”

“Let’s go.”

~~

The studio lights were blinding hot. The makeup artist leaned in to dab powder on my cheek, and for a moment, the faint scent of her perfume, vanilla, stabbed through my ribs.

It was Elena's favourite. She used to love vanilla.

I closed my eyes, the memory of how she would fantasize, asking me to buy her the perfume just made my heart sink in sadness.

‘Your memories keep coming like tide waves, yet, I cannot find you. Why? Why ? Where have you hidden yourself? Elena Ashford?’

“Mayor Ashford?” The host called as she approached, tapping me out of my trance. Her smile was immaculate. “Ready to swirl the world with your charm?”

“As I'll ever be.”

We shook hands, the cameras rolled, and the red light blinked alive. Millions of viewers watching, waiting, expecting the perfect political performance I always played.

But maybe today wasn't going to be about politics.

Maybe opening up to the world about my predicament can yield something.

The interview opened with the usual well to do questions, city improvements, healthcare reforms— of course, I talked mostly about healthcare reforms and the needs to improve things, social projects. I answered all of them flawlessly. Years of training made it so easy for me.

I had once in five years, lost memory of who I was but videos, Jonah's help had made me revive what I thought I had lost. 

However, then came the question I always avoided.

“Mayor Ashford,” the host said softly. “We've seen many sides of you publicly. But mostly, the ‘happy sides.’ However, we want to know the man behind the scenes. Behind the office. Not the one who would just have to smile on cameras and hide behind facades. Would you mind telling us your greatest regret? What's your greatest regret?”

My breath froze and Jonah walked in at the moment, waving hands and asking the interview to stop immediately but I instantly waved my hands in approval to stop him. 

Regret?

Regret was Elena crying, signing divorce papers, walking out and gone without a trace or name.

A hard lump formed in my throat at the pain that coursed through my heart.

Perhaps, acting all fine won’t do. I finally decided to make my first appearance. Finding Elena would be easier and perhaps, selfish of me.

“My greatest regret,” I began slowly. “Is losing my ex-wife and never having children.”

The host blinked, stunned and the same goes to every other person in the room. Including my personal assistant. I wasn't supposed to say that. 

No one knew I was going to say that. 

Not even me.

“I admit. I hurt her,” I continued, voice thickening. “More than she deserved. I made choices I can never undo, and I've paid for them every day since. She was my backbone. The woman behind my smiles but ever since I let her out of sight, my smile has never been the same.”

I could feel tremor in my hands as I spoke about my pains.

The host swallowed. “Do you ..still think about her? Elena Ashford? The one who shook the internet about the divorce and disappearance?”

“Every day! I wronged her.”

“Do y…”

The host was yet to finish up her questions when a cough from me interrupted the whole program.

My face went blurry and I suddenly lost track of myself.

I coughed so hard, falling to the floor and slowly losing my existence.

Perhaps, having to say the truth in death, means a good sign.

“Mayor Ashford! Mayor Ashford!” 

Everything went blank.