This is not a love story.
It's about a girl, who no longer wants to shine in the spotlight.
A girl who no longer wants to be the villain.
A girl who no longer wants her husband.
A girl who finally took off her blindfold, and embrace her second chan...
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A V A
I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised because that was an unexpected answer.
The memory loss isn't a big deal.
Is it?
Then, I ponder.
What would happen if I never lost my memories?
Would I still be the same, or would I be a completely different person?
Would having Elijah Wood in my life change me?
"What's wrong?" Mom hangs the twinkling lights, "You've been oddly quiet ever since we came back from the hospital."
I pin the stocking on the wall above the fireplace. After the unusual memory loss conversation between Eli and me, mom appeared. It didn't give me a chance to ask him why he responded the way he did.
There shouldn't be any reason why Eli wouldn't want me to have my memories back.
"It's nothing," I respond. There's a chill in the air. Ever since winter recess starts, I haven't heard from Eli.
Mom rearranged the lights above the fireplace, "Is it, Eli?" We've been getting closer ever since I've returned. Mom isn't as cautious as she was during my previous life.
My fingers halted its motion, and I curled the material around my fingers. "Eli said he doesn't want me to get my memories back."
It's funny. Comedic to the point that it's almost sad.
The memories I wish I can forget are forever engraved inside me, while the memories I wish to return continue to rest in the darkness.
It's gone.
"I see," mom responded. She opens another holiday box, "He must have a good reason why."
I nod, "Yeah."
"Why don't you call him and ask to meet up," she suggested. "If it bothers you so much, you can confront him about it."
"Isn't that odd?"
"What's so odd about it? I mean, at the moment, it may feel weird, but at least you know the reason. Maybe, for him, those words aren't a big matter as it is to you. Maybe, for him, the reason why he didn't want you to regain your memories is simple."
The thought that I may be overthinking things gave me the comfort I desired. Yes, I may be thinking too deeply into this situation. "Thanks, mom."
She smiles, "Always happy to be the parent of the year."
The front door opened, and Trevon wobbled inside with his thick boots. He pulled down the scarf, "I-I-I don't understand w-w-why I have to be the one who scoops up all the s-snow."
"Because you're a big strong man," I said in a baby voice.
He glares at me, "I'm done." He wobbles toward the stairs, allowing the snow to melt all over the floor.
