Beneath the Bully's Gaze

Memories

It had been weeks since Mira had disappeared from the office, and Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He didn't say anything, of course. He simply watched from afar, allowing her absence to linger as if it were nothing more than a momentary break. But deep down, something didn't sit right with him.

Mira's condition had been deteriorating, and he had noticed the subtle signs—the pale face, the way she would push herself too hard, the exhaustion she hid behind her work. Still, he'd never asked, never pushed. Maybe he didn't want to know the truth. He didn't want to deal with the consequences, not when he was already suffocating under the weight of his own guilt.

But now, it had been too long.

He was standing in front of her apartment door, his fist clenched, the knocking loud in the quiet hallway. "Mira?" he called, his voice betraying the worry he had long hidden. "Mira, are you home?"

He knocked harder, louder, frustration growing as the silence dragged on. No answer. Not a single sound from inside. Ethan's instincts kicked in, and he moved closer to the door. He knocked again, louder this time, calling her name, but nothing came back.

His heart raced, adrenaline spiking as he stared at the door. His mind flashed to the hospital, the doctor's cryptic warnings, and Mira's absence. His patience snapped.

Dammit.

Without another thought, Ethan kicked the door open, the sound of the wood cracking loud in the empty hallway. He entered, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Mira, lying motionless on the old, worn-out sofa. She looked so fragile, so lifeless.

Ethan's heart stopped. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he gently shook her.

"Mira!" he called, his voice frantic. No response. Her body felt cold under his touch, and his blood ran cold with terror. He couldn't lose her. Not like this. Not after everything.

He scooped her up in his arms, his breath erratic as he carried her to the car. Every second felt like an eternity, every movement of the car an unbearable stretch of time. When they reached the hospital, he barely gave the staff time to react, storming through the doors with Mira in his arms.

"Help her!" he yelled, panic evident in every word.

They rushed her into an emergency room, and Ethan was left standing in the sterile hallways, alone. The minutes stretched on. The seconds dragged, each one heavier than the last. He paced, rubbed his hands over his face, and waited—waited for news, for someone to tell him that she was going to be okay.

And then, the doctor walked out.

Ethan's gaze was sharp as he approached him, eyes hard with a mixture of anger and fear. "What happened?" Ethan demanded. "Why is she like this?"

The doctor hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to the ground. Ethan could see it—the unease, the reluctance. That was enough to push him over the edge.

"I'm paying you, and you won't tell me the truth?" Ethan's voice dropped to a low, threatening tone. "Tell me now, or I'll make sure you'll never practice medicine again."

The doctor flinched, his eyes wide as he realized that Ethan wasn't kidding. His face fell, and he took a deep breath before speaking.

"I... I shouldn't be telling you this," the doctor murmured, his voice quiet with regret. "But Mira... she's gravely ill. She's been hiding it from everyone, from you. Her condition is severe, and there's a risk of her memory being wiped out if she undergoes the surgery."

Ethan's chest tightened. "What do you mean by 'wiped out'?"

"The surgery could save her life," the doctor continued, avoiding Ethan's gaze. "But there's a high risk of amnesia... She could forget everything. All the pain she's been carrying. Her past, the memories, everything. Even you."

Ethan's mind blanked. Forget everything?

He felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him. All at once, he was overwhelmed by the idea of Mira losing all the memories of their shared history, of everything they had been through—the pain, the suffering, the mistakes he had made.

But the weight of his guilt was undeniable. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was the only way for her to truly move on, free from the burden he had placed on her.

She deserved happiness. She deserved a chance to forget everything about him. To forget the man he had been—the bully, the one who had made her life miserable.

He was the reason her life had been so hard, wasn't he? He was the one who had hurt her so deeply, who had made her feel so small. And now, when he had the chance to fix things, he had failed.

It would be better if she forgot him. It would be better if she could live a life free of the memories of him, free of the guilt that haunted him.

Mira's grandmother had trusted him to look after her, and now, as if in some twisted fate, he was being forced to choose between the woman he loved and the woman who had raised her.

Ethan clenched his fists at his sides, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

She can't remember me. She deserves better.

But he couldn't erase his feelings. He couldn't forget that Mira was more than just his responsibility; she was the one thing in his life that made him feel whole.

And yet, here he was, unable to give her what she needed. What he needed.

---

Days later, Ethan found himself sitting alone in his office. His hand hovered over a piece of paper, the pen trembling as he started to write.

---

Dear Mira,

I don't know how to start this, but I know you deserve to hear it. There's so much I've kept from you, so many things I've never told you. And I regret that. I regret everything I did in the past, all the ways I hurt you. I know I can't take that back, but I need you to understand why I acted the way I did.

I was cruel. I bullied you. I was selfish. But that was the past, and I know you can't just forgive that. I wouldn't blame you if you couldn't.

I've watched you struggle, watched you carry this burden, and I've done nothing to help you. I've been so consumed with my own guilt, with my own demons, that I didn't even notice the pain you were carrying. I should have done better. I should have been there for you.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything.

You deserve a life of happiness, Mira. A life without pain, without the ghosts of our past. And if the only way for you to have that is for you to forget me, forget everything we've been through, then I'll accept it. I'll accept it, because you deserve better than the man I've been.

I'll never be the man you need, but I will always love you, in my own way.

Please take care of yourself. I wish you all the happiness in the world, and if you ever find it, know that it's all you deserve.

From,
A sinner

---

Ethan folded the letter carefully, his hands trembling. He couldn't give it to her himself—he couldn't face her. Not now, not when everything was falling apart.

Instead, he handed the letter to Adam, his trusted friend. "Please," he said softly, his voice breaking, "when she's better, give this to her. Tell her... tell her everything she needs to know. Don't tell this is from me."

Adam nodded, his expression solemn. He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes said it all. He understood.

And with that, Ethan left. The letter would never reach Mira directly from him, but it didn't matter. He had done all he could.

For Mira, the only thing left was to move on without him.

But Ethan would never forget. Never forget her. Never forget the love he had always felt for her, the love he had never shown in the way she deserved.

And as he walked away, the silence between them was deafening.