I Can't Remember To Forget You Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She snaps back. Quinn is cradling her head to his chest. “ I wish I could remember who he is, and why I chose to forget him.” she says in a sad tone. He knew that one would make her sad but it should be a strong memory. “You’ll remember soon enough” he smiles at her kissing the top of her head. “Let’s get some rest okay? Big day ahead little one” he says.

That wrecked him. He limped toward me, reaching for my hand. I stepped back like it was nothing. "Mister, keep this up and I'm calling the cops." His eyes were wild, voice cracking as he yelled, "I don't believe you forgot me! Rhea, you said forever! I only forgot you because of that temporary amnesia—but I remember now! I know you're the one I love!" I laughed. Hard. What a clown. Acting like some tragic lover. Would he have "remembered" so fast if I hadn't walked away for good? Doubt it. He'd still be playing house with Juliet and her stupid little props.

Chapter 7: Love’s Reaction Annie stood still, her mind suddenly actively remembering a moment in her past. Right from the first moment Aaron and she met, the trust and love was instant. She can see he was struggling but it was clear he doesn’t understand his behavior. She badly wants to tell him who she was but also knows he must remember on his own…

On the third day, my memories started to decline. I constantly forgot what I was just doing or thinking. There were many times a day when I suddenly froze on the spot. With much difficulty, I finally remembered that I wanted to keep the Lego set that Raven had destroyed. Although I no longer had any hope my family would come to accept me, Grandma and I built the Lego set together. It was an important memory I had of Grandma. I would not allow them to throw such memories into the trash.

"Yes. And the funny part was that I did not even know." I looked up at him. "I forgot everything," he continued. "Everything about you, about us, about what we had. It was just gone. And this book sat in a box in my apartment for years and I never thought to look at it because I did not remember that it mattered." I wanted to call him a liar. Wanted to throw the book at his face and tell him that whatever story he was trying to sell, I was not buying it. But I could not speak. Could not do anything except sit there with my diary in my lap and my throat tight and my eyes burning.

As the fire between us flared, burning everything, hearts, souls… I was thinking about only one thing, with bitterness and sadness. It’s not too late. He’ll forget. Sooner or later, he’ll forget me. He has to. And I… I’ll remember forever.

Like he's making sure I never forget. And I forget how to breathe. And I forget how to think. And I forget everything except him. Except us. Except this. Except forever. Except our future.

She dumped out all the dirty kitchen waste inside and searched through it piece by piece, trying to put together the notes she had thrown away, as if doing so could turn back time. "It's me, your husband. Don't be afraid." Looking at the familiar handwriting, she clamped her teeth around her wrist. Only then was she able to stop herself from crying. After stopping the medication, Giselle's rationality slowly returned. Although her condition couldn't be entirely cured, she was no longer under anyone's control. She used every connection she had, even selling off most of her shares, and searched the entire world for me like she had gone mad. Three months later, in a remote coastal town, she fou

“My mother says people leave things behind.” Lana glanced at him. “What things?” “Stories,” he said. “And memories.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t remember everything.” “That’s okay,” he replied. “You don’t have to.” He looked at the empty space between them. “I can stay here, if you want.” She frowned slightly. “Why?” He shrugged. “Because no one should sit alone when they’re sad.” His simple answer caught her off guard. After a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

My husband Charles always had selective amnesia. Anything that had to do with me, he would forget, then promise he'd make it up next time. On my thirtieth birthday, I prepared an elaborate dinner at home and waited for him and our family to come celebrate. But the hour came and went, and no one showed up. Burning with a high fever, I went out to look for Charles and called everyone else. Isabella's voice was warm with laughter. "Charles is here with me picking out your birthday present. We'll be back soon." My best friend said, "Traffic is awful. I ran into Charles on the way, so we're heading over together." Even my own brother told me, "I ran into an old friend with Charles on the road and