champagne problems

36

"What?" my voice sounded so vulnerable as I spoke. It seems like my world had crumbled into pieces once again as her question went to fill my mind and ears.

"I can't... I can't remember anything. Who are you?"

For a moment, I just stood there. I couldn't move.

I heard the doctor's voice from behind me chimed in, "Charlotte's suffering from retrograde amnesia. She might have difficulties in regaining her past memories before the accident, but it would be back in time."

"Is there any chance that she might not recall anything at all?" Tina asked the doctor, her questions hung heavy in the air.

"It's a possibility. As I've said, Charlotte had suffered severe brain injury that caused her brain to experience severe trauma as well. Her waking up is a very good sign, although the question of when will she regain her memories back would be hard to answer for now."

"Accident? Me?" Charlotte asked confused as she roamed her eyes between the people inside her room.

"She remembers her name," the doctor said, "I asked her earlier what she can remember, but she said nothing. She just remember her name,"

You don't remember me at all?" I asked, almost pleading for her to answer no, that she remember me.

"I-I don't,"

-------------------

In the days that followed, I found myself grappling with conflicting emotions. Charlotte's absence of memory felt like a chasm separating us, a cruel twist of fate that I struggled to accept. It was my choice to step away, to distance myself from a situation that felt too painful to confront. Yet, even in my absence, the ache of longing persisted.

I avoided her, convinced that my presence would only confuse her further. It's absurd, no matter how much you try to understand, it's really absurd.

But even just this time, I've let myself be selfish. Just this once.

I was back in New York once again, one year after Charlotte's accident. I haven't called, I haven't said anything to her before I left, thinking it won't matter, she didn't know who am I after all.

But before I left, I had a word with Diana.

She handed me a piece of paper and a key, "This is the key to Charlotte's apartment in Brooklyn. And this," she said pertaining to the paper, "Is Meena's phone number. She's Char's friend. I know Charlotte would definitely want Phalo to stay with you,"

"Phalo?" I asked. Who's Phalo?

"She's Charlotte's pet. Please, take care of her for Char."

"I will," I answered without any hesitation. "Diana," I called to her once more, my eyes glistening with unshed tears as I prepared myself to be away from her once again, and yet again, with uncertainty of ever coming back. "Please, let me know if she remembers,"

---------------

Engfa's POV:

Of course, I will always know where and how to find her. It's as if it had been my life's mission to be wherever Charlotte is, no matter the circumstances.

It feels like we're connected by fate since the very first moment I laid eyes on her. Red strings securely tying us together, maybe that's why it's impossible for either of us to forget each other.

With slow, deliberate steps, I approached a place I've come to know so well over the years of living here. A place sacred to both of us.

My shoes buried in the sand as I walked, the setting sun casting a beautiful orange hue across my face as it dipped towards the horizon of the sea.