Who's Alyssa?

After I got out of the ICU, I was moved to a regular hospital room. My childhood friend, Mark Beckett, came to visit me every day, chattering nonstop in my ear.

He said that Alyssa Reinhart was a snake—pure evil. Not only did she not save me, but she didn't even bother to visit while I was in the ICU. Instead, she was off on vacation overseas with her old flame.

Lying in bed, I was really confused. 'Who the hell is Alyssa? Is she some new idol from a reality show? Why don't I remember a single thing about her?'

"Come on, Connor. Are you seriously telling me you have amnesia? Do you at least remember who I am?" Mark stared at me, worried.

"Get out of here! I don't have amnesia. I remember everything. It's just this girlfriend you keep talking about—the one I am supposedly head over heels for, Alyssa—I don't have the faintest memory of her."

Shocked, Mark called the doctor to run more tests. In the end, they confirmed it was real amnesia—selective amnesia.

I had selectively forgotten the most intense pain in my memory, along with the person who caused it.

"Eh, maybe it's for the best. Forget her. Now you can live a normal life."

Mark actually seemed relieved, like the accident had been a blessing in disguise.

"You have no idea. Back then, you were a total lovesick fool. A good-looking guy, sure, but a complete idiot. You let Alyssa walk all over you without a single complaint. To keep her, you'd trail behind her and her old flame like a pathetic dog—a total lost cause."

Listening to Mark's story, I was blown away. Was I really that much of a sucker? Such a lovesick fool that I'd help my girlfriend chase after her old flame?

Suddenly, the hospital door burst open. The sharp, rhythmic click of high heels hit my ears before anything else.

I turned to look, and a delicate, beautiful face came into view. Big eyes, bold red lips, loose, wavy hair naturally spilling over her shoulders. So stunning I couldn't look away.

I was mesmerized. Now this—this was the kind of woman I could see myself being lovesick over.

But before my racing heart could even get started, she walked straight up to me, raised her hand, and slapped me across the face. The sound rang out like a bell, drowning out the whole room.

"Connor!"

Her pretty face twisted into something ugly. Her eyes locked onto mine, and her shrill voice seemed to fill the entire floor.

"You coward! You pathetic coward! What, you got a little hurt? And that useless friend of yours had to blow up my phone every day, begging me to come see you? And now, you're pretending to have amnesia? Well, you're not dead yet, are you? You could've at least died before calling me here!"

Then she jabbed her index finger into my forehead and shoved me hard back onto the bed.

The stitches on my waist hadn't healed yet. With that kind of force, blood started seeping through the bandages.

I let out a low groan, gritted my teeth against the pain, and looked up at this woman who'd appeared out of nowhere. Totally baffled, I asked, "Who are you?"

She seemed shocked. She let out a scoff of disbelief.

"Keep pretending. Keep it up. I just went overseas to celebrate Dylan's birthday. Is that really worth you acting like you're dying, Connor?"

Judging by her reaction and the way Mark had shrunk back into the corner like a bystander, it finally clicked. So this was Alyssa—the one Mark had been talking about.

The girlfriend who pushed me, her actual boyfriend, into a fire to save her old flame, then didn't look back. The one who was vacationing overseas with her old flame while I was in the emergency room.

I couldn't help but laugh coldly. At first, yeah, I was drawn to her looks. She was the kind of woman who'd make your heart skip a beat if you saw her on the street.

But then, she opened her mouth. Then, she raised her hand. And that good first impression went straight out the window.

I didn't see some stunning, captivating beauty anymore. I just saw a low-class, trashy bully. Every bit of that initial attraction vanished on the spot.

"Miss, I really don't know you. I think you've got the wrong person. If you keep acting crazy like this, don't blame me for having security escort you out."

My voice was cold. I stopped looking at her. But she didn't seem willing to let it go. She grabbed my collar and yanked me up again.

She leaned in close, her tone softening, almost like she was trying to sound sweet.

"Connor, you used to love it when I hit you and yelled at you. What's wrong with you now? Are you actually mad? I told you before—Dylan is just an old friend from school. There's nothing going on between us. I just went to celebrate his birthday. You're the one I've always loved."