Novel & Cerita Never Forget What They Took From Us

Tonight it felt like a countdown clock, and every screech of the wheels was another second slipping away. Expiry. The word lodged itself in me like a splinter. When I reached the nonprofit office, the building looked smaller somehow, as if even the bricks knew the place was living on borrowed time. The eviction notice was still taped to the door. I ripped it down, crumpled it in my hand, and forced myself inside. The children’s drawings on the walls hit me like a punch. Crayon stick figures with wide smiles, shaky words scrawled in bright markers: Thank you, Miss Jane.

The people who stole six years from me had taken many things. They had taken my freedom. They had taken my identity. They had taken precious moments that could never be returned. But they had failed to take one thing. Us. And judging by the look in Adrian's eyes as he squeezed my hand once more, he had finally reached the same conclusion.

“But I think you need reminding.” I hesitated and my hands shook as I reached for the folder. Inside were pictures. Littered Bodies. My father’s cold, lifeless eyes staring blankly up at the camera. The house I had grown up in had been reduced to rubble. I blinked hard as tears blurred the images. “I don’t remember most of it, you know?” I whispered. “I know,” she said, softer now. “That’s why I kept these. So you would never forget why we’re here. So you would never forget what they did.”

Henry shouted, "No! Yelena, I will never divorce you! And the child—why did you never tell me about it?" His voice trembled as he spoke. He was probably regretting it, but what was the use of regret? We could never go back. No matter how hard he tried, it was over. "I will never agree to a divorce!" Henry insisted. "Don't joke with me. This isn't funny at all." So, he thought I was joking.

One unspoken, but etched in their hearts: No more forgetting. No more running. Only choosing. Again and again. Together.

"I wanted to tell you, but weren't you dead?" Mom's whole body stiffened, and she slowly let go of me. Dad's face went pale as he asked, "Rena, when did your memory come back?" "I never forgot." I smiled bitterly. "Do you know how much willpower it takes not to be hypnotized? The hypnotist tied me to a chair, but I dug my nails into my palms until the skin broke, and I bit my tongue until it bled. Do you know how scared I was back then?"

I became pregnant again and again, only to miscarry every time. In less than a year, I lost my ability to bear children. Half my body was paralyzed. My husband, Chris Macken, spent a fortune hiring a foreign research team capable of extracting memories from the human brain. I became an experiment. "Jenny, the day you let my sister die with injustice hanging over her head, you should've known this day would come! "She treated you like family. And you repaid her by working with her killer to destroy her. This is your retribution!"

On the nightstand were a few items: a brand-new ID card, a bank card, and a pale blue note. I picked up the note. In elegant handwriting, it said: "Forget the past, embrace a new life." Forget the past? I frowned, only then realizing I couldn't remember anything at all. What was my name? Where did I come from? Why was I here? All that remained in my mind was a faint awareness of being a werewolf living in the human world; everything else was a blank slate. But strangely, I didn't feel any panic. Instead, I felt a sense of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

Martin fell heavily to the ground, covering his face and crying out loud. Florence was imprisoned for intentional harm, and Martin arranged for someone to make her life in prison a living hell. The Barrack family also quickly went bankrupt under the Steinfeld family's deliberate targeting. Mrs. Steinfeld fell seriously ill after returning home, and she only survived after an emergency rescue. As soon as she regained consciousness, she announced that she was severing ties with Martin. From then on, Martin was truly on his own. Later, Mrs. Steinfeld came to see me once. The once glamorous lady now had a head full of gray hair, which was truly heartbreaking to see. The agony of losing two sons

"Then let's build it from scratch." "How?" "By starting over." "Starting over how?" "By pretending we just met." "That's stupid." "Is it?" "Yes. Because we have history. We have pain. We have baggage." "Then let's deal with the baggage." "How?" "By talking about it." "I don't want to talk about it anymore." "Then what do you want to do?" "I want to forget about it." "You can't forget about it." "Why not?" "Because forgetting about it means forgetting about us."