24
“Preston, it’s me,” I whispered, almost crying. I thought I had lost him.
He stared at me, his brows furrowed in confusion. “… I don’t remember everything,” he admitted, his voice soft
but strained. “I know your face, but it’s like trying to grab water–it keeps slipping away.”
Tears blurred my vision as I held onto his hands. “It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile. “You’re here now, and that’s
all that matters.”
The doctors had advised that Preston stay in the hospital for further observation. The head injury he sustained from the yacht accident had left him with partial amnesia, and they wanted to monitor his progress as he healed.
I stayed by his side every day, recounting our memories together, no matter how painful it was to watch him struggle to piece it all together.
“Remember when we went to the vineyard in Tuscany?” I asked one afternoon, sitting beside his hospital bed “You said you’d never tasted wine that good before, and you tried to steal a bottle for us to take home.”
He chuckled faintly, his eyes softening. “I think I remember that. The red wine, right? It was raining that day?”
“Yes!” I said, my heart swelling with hope. “And we got soaked running back to the car.”
His smile faltered, and he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s still all so blurry, Zoe. I hate this. I hate not knowing”
“It’ll come back,” I assured him, placing my hand over his “We’ll work through it together.”
Alestair visited often, though he, too, was grappling with the mystery of how he and Preston had been sep
“It must have been a family thing,” Alestair said one evening as we sat in the hospital room. “Maybe our parents couldn’t keep us both, or something happened. I grew up in an orphanage, and no one ever told me I had a twin.”
Preston nodded, his expression distant. “I’ll figure it out eventually. But right now, my priority is getting back to
Zoe–and to us.”
While Preston worked on regaining his memories, the chaos surrounding Madison only grew worse.
She was locked up, but without Preston’s full recollection or concrete evidence, the trial was at a standstill. Reports from the jail said she was unraveling, her mental state deteriorating.
The frustration ate away at Preston.
For My Love the Breaking My Heart
One night, he asked me about the baby
“Zoe,” he began, his voice trembling. “I heard… I heard what happened. That you lost the baby.”
I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest resurfacing, “Yes,” I said quietly.
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, guilt etched into his face. “It’s my fault,” he muttered. “If I hadn’t gone
after Madison, if I had just stayed-”
“Stop,” I interrupted, reaching for his hand. “It’s not your fault, Preston. What matters is that you’re alive. We can’t change the past, but we can move forward. Together.”
He nodded, though the guilt in his eyes lingered.
A week later, everything changed.
A package arrived at the hospital, addressed to me. Inside was a recording tape and a letter from Travis.
I hesitated before reading it, my fingers trembling as I unfolded the paper.
Zoe,
I know I can never make up for what I’ve done, but I want you to have this. Consider it my way of helping you get the justice you deserve.
The tape contains Madison’s plans–everything she did to you and Preston. The mall, the accident, even her plot
to harm your baby. She orchestrated it all.
I hope you’ll find closure in this and maybe, one day, forgive me.
-Travis
Tears filled my eyes as I read the letter. For the first time, I felt something other than anger toward him.
The tape revealed Madison’s full confession, her voice cold and calculated as she outlined every detail of her
schemes. It was chilling to hear, but it was exactly what we needed.
With this evidence, the trial could finally proceed.
I wrote a letter back to Travis, thanking him
For the first time, I forgave him.
Madison was found guilty on all counts and sentenced to life in prison. There would be no more threats from
her, no more chaos.
Meanwhile, Preston was making progress.
After weeks of therapy and constant reminders, fragments of his memories began to resurface.
One afternoon, as we sat together in the hospital garden, he looked at me with a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
A few days later, during a therapy session, more pieces fell into place.
“I was following someone,” he said, his brows furrowing as he tried to focus. “On the yacht. Madison. I was
trying to catch up to her.”
“That’s right,” I said, nodding.
“And then..” He paused, his eyes distant. “The crash. I hit something, and I remember falling into the water
“You’re remembering,” I said, my voice trembling with hope.
He nodded slowly, his hand reaching out to cover mine. “And I remember you. I remember loving you, Zoe.”
