Chapter 3: Risking It All for Love

Just as I was about to unlock my hotel room, the door suddenly swung open from the inside.

I was pulled into the darkness, startled. A hand clamped over my mouth.

“Babe, it’s me.”

Evan’s voice—instantly, I relaxed.

I tried to turn on the light. He grabbed my wrist.

He must have just showered—the scent of mint body wash clung to him.

His damp hair brushed my neck, light and ticklish.

“Evan—”

I tried to wriggle free, but no luck.

“Mm.”

“We’re already divorced. Please leave.”

He didn’t move. He just buried his head in the crook of my neck, his breath growing warmer.

His voice was muffled:

“Babe, my head hurts. Don’t make me leave.”

Evan really did look uncomfortable.

I helped him to the bed to rest. Then, after a beat, I went to the bathroom to shower.

Warm water poured down. I couldn’t help but wonder—why did Evan’s attitude change so much after losing his memory?

He used to love Savannah so much, hated me so much. Now it’s like he’s flipped completely.

Did his memories get mixed up, so now he’s putting all those feelings for Savannah onto me?

I was lost in thought when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Babe, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

I froze for a few seconds. Then, quickly, I wrapped myself in a towel and opened the door for him.

Evan glanced at me, then walked straight to the toilet.

I stepped out—because every time Evan got drunk and wanted to puke, if I tried to help, he’d just snap at me.

“Emily, can you not touch me?”

“Just because you look like Savannah, you think if you show me a little care, I’ll fall for you? Dream on.”

Back then, I’d freeze. My hand would just hang awkward in midair.

It was humiliating. Ridiculous.

But this time, just as I reached the door, Evan called out to me.

“Babe, pat my back.”

He looked up at me, eyes watery and a little red, like he was afraid I’d turn him down.

I bit my lip, hesitating for a second.

Although Evan had always treated me badly, he’d helped my career a lot. I went from a D-list to a C-list actress, partly because of him.

Just think of it as helping a friend, I told myself.

I gently patted his back a few times.

But he didn’t really want to throw up at all. He suddenly turned and pinned me against the wall.

“Evan, you were faking it?”

I shoved him off, angry.

He pressed close, his body hot, slumping into my arms.

He muttered, “Babe, I want—”

He paused.

Then looked up at me. The warm orange bathroom light reflected in his eyes, soft and dreamy.

“You.”

“No.”

I shot him down.

Evan never touched me during our marriage—there’s even less reason now that we’re divorced.

He hung his head like a sad puppy.

“Why? I like you, babe.”

I slipped out from under his arm and said, calm as ever:

“We got married because Savannah dumped you and you wanted revenge. We divorced because Savannah came back and you wanted to get back together with her.”

I leaned against the door and gestured for him to leave.

“So, you should go to her, not come to me.”

After saying this much, even if Evan had amnesia, he should understand everything.