A planned car accident takes her memory away but what happens when life throws her back in the same track?
#Chaelisa #Original #Wattpad #Romance #Angst #Cheater
***
Roseanne Park remembers nothing from her past. All she knows is that she wakes up...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Roseanne
I stare at her. We're at the funeral and she just wouldn't look away. Instead, as someone climbs up the stage to deliver yet another tedious eulogy, the pilot throws a smirk my way, her hand making a lewd remark.
I roll my eyes at her behaviour and look away. From my peripheral vision afterward, I am positive that she laughs.
"How much longer?"
I tilt my watch and observe the hour. It has been more than 45 minutes. No wonder my ass is cramping.
I need to regulate the blood circulation sooner or the next thing I know, I'm being wheeled out of this hall in a wheelchair.
Jennie laughs at the absurdity of that scene playing in her mind.
"Well," she licks her lower lip. "I'm sure this is the last one," she mumbles, stealing a glance at my right where my other sister, Harin sits with her fiancee, Ella.
"Isn't it, Harin?" Her tone catches Harin's attention.
"Yes," the hotelier responds dreadfully. Hand weaving through her neat hair as she speaks.
"I don't think I'd last another hour sitting through this all," she throws me a quick glance. Her lips twisting into a small smile as she quips,
"Did I speak up your mind again, Rosie?" I nod my head.
"Pretty much," I look at her.
"Told you," she kisses my forehead as I roll my eyes. "I'm the best reader," "You wish," I push her away and she laughs, but the warmth of her hand never leaves my own.
We pretend to focus back on the eulogy being delivered. This time, it's another wrinkling soul in black suit and grey hair.
As he blabbers more about days of their youth, his and my uncle's; my mind begs me to run.
"Where to?" I find my heart asking. "Anywhere," the voice in my head states. "Fine. Just don't go too far. We're always lost,".
Before I realise it, my attention drifts back to the same, unnamed pilot sitting an aisle away.
She's flanked on both sides by yet another group of mourners, all dressed in black suits and sombre dresses.Her pilot uniform - I must say - is a major turn on.
It's like she's the only splash of light standing out against the sea of darkness. And from the smug look she's been giving me since our eyes first met, I can tell she's enjoying every second of it.
My attention on her existence. Damn.
We rise to our feet when the priest concludes the session. Finally, I sigh, internally forgetting the emergency hotline number I've been memorising since the wake started two hours ago; just in case my feet decided to give up on me.
