After The Crash, Three Men Said They Loved Me

After losing my memory in a car accident, three men came to visit me in the hospital. The one who arrived at ten claimed to be my boyfriend, a rebellious singer. The one who arrived at noon claimed to be my fiancé, the icy boss who had worked me to death when I first entered the workforce. The one who arrived at two claimed to be my husband, a gentle upperclassman I had secretly loved since middle school, freshly back from a business trip. The woman in the next bed was just as bewildered as I was. But neither of us said a word. Who exactly was lying? Who was my real lover? Did deceiving an honest person really amuse them? 1 When I woke up after the accident, I remembered only that I had just finished high school and was about to start college. But everything around me said I was five years in the future. I watched the man sitting in front of me without giving anything away. He was peeling a peach for me. At the same time, he was telling me about his work schedule. “I have to record a new song this month, plus a few concerts. I won’t be able to spend much time with you.” He was incredibly handsome. His young, beautiful face had a rebellious charm. A diamond stud glittered in his left ear, and his close-cropped hair made his features look even sharper. The moment he arrived, he hugged me. Then he kissed my cheek. Naturally. So I decided he was my boyfriend. 2 Apparently, he didn’t spend much time with me. I wondered silently whether that meant our relationship was stable. I was actually dating a celebrity. “Next month. I’ll take you to Bali next month. How does that sound?” Next month? I had no idea what my life was like now. And I didn’t want to tell anyone I had amnesia. He handed me the peach, rubbed my head, and asked gently with that handsome, cool face of his, “Has your husband hit you again?” What?! My pupils practically shook my skull. I was married? I was cheating. My husband beat me. And this man knew I had a husband and still dated me. Luckily, I lowered my lashes so he wouldn’t see my shock. 3 I dodged the question. “It’s…fine.” He asked again, “When are you getting divorced? Don’t be afraid of him. Once you’re with me, he’ll never find you.” I was planning to divorce my husband and be with him. If my husband hit me, divorce was obviously the right choice. I fell into deep thought. Who was my husband, anyway? He continued, “I’ll find you a lawyer. Don’t worry about the divorce case. And don’t worry about it hurting my career. I don’t play the jealous-fangirl game. I’m successful on talent alone. Got it?” God. I was completely lost in his beauty. Who could resist a gorgeous man comforting her? His voice was deep and sexy. My heart tingled all over. I wanted to sleep with him. I nodded obediently. “Okay.” 4 He went on, “Is that jerk of a boss still harassing you?” Jerk of a boss? Who was that supposed to be? He continued, “You should just quit. He makes you work weekends and late nights, leaves you no life of your own, and you have to deal with some old creep. Come work as my assistant. Then we can be together every day.” So I had a job now, and I worked overtime all the time. What a miserable life. And my boss was an old pervert? He must have been ugly. I nodded vaguely. Just then, my phone rang. The contact name read: Boss—Grant Sterling. It sounded like a romance-novel name. What a shame. My boyfriend motioned for me to answer. Then he turned on speakerphone. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt guilty—and annoyed that he had done it. I said nothing. A cool, clear male voice came over the line. “Where are you? Why aren’t you at work?” It sounded like a young man. Not old at all. 5 I chose my words carefully. “I was in a car accident this morning. I’m at the hospital.” The voice sharpened with concern. “Are you okay? Which hospital?” I told him. My boyfriend had a concert to prepare for. According to him, he had only arrived in Seattle the night before, so I must have gone to see him and slept with him. Then I had left in the morning and was talking to him when the accident happened. Apparently, my boyfriend and I had a stable, loving relationship. I needed to get divorced first. Then we could be together openly. Still, it was strange. I had always been an honest girl. I had cheated. But if my husband beat me and my boss exploited and harassed me, maybe I had developed a twisted personality and cheated. I never expected adulthood to be this miserable. Luckily, I had such a handsome boyfriend to comfort me. Otherwise, I might have turned evil on the spot. My boss hung up rudely. My boyfriend clearly despised him. He also had to attend an endorsement event. He put on a mask and baseball cap before leaving. His tall frame looked even cooler that way. Next time we met, I would have to find out what he was like up close. Something I had wondered about since high school might finally happen after one night’s sleep—with a beautiful man. 6 The woman in the next bed looked at me enviously. “Your boyfriend is so good to you.” I smiled shyly. “We’re very stable. We’re planning to get married.” She envied me even more. “Not only is your relationship great, he looks so handsome! Though he does seem familiar…” Since we shared a room and were bored, we started chatting. As it happened, she was a fan of my boyfriend, Julian Park. She kept talking about how handsome he was and how beautiful his singing sounded. She even said she would die happy after meeting him once. I began to suspect something was wrong with her eyes. A true fan couldn’t even recognize her idol standing right in front of her. Still, we listened to Julian’s songs and gossiped about him together. It was actually pretty fun. 7 Julian Park was very talented. But he had a terrible temper. That was why the media was always attacking him. My roommate laughed. “It’s hilarious. They searched and searched but couldn’t find anything real to criticize, so they started spreading rumors that he liked men! Apparently not sleeping around with everyone is a crime now!” I fell into thought. Did that mean, for Julian, sleeping around with men and women was the correct thing to do? Still, I felt reassured. Julian had no scandals involving women. Whenever an actress tried to use him for publicity, he immediately posted on Instagram to make it clear they had nothing to do with each other. He was so blunt that he never spared the woman’s feelings, so eventually nobody dared to use his name for attention. And he was extremely famous. I had a feeling that following him would mean good food and an easy life. 8 At noon, I was about to eat the hospital meal. Instead, a tall, equally handsome man walked in wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His long fingers carried a thermal food container. My roommate and I stared at him together. When he saw me, he came straight over, sat down, and touched my face with faint irritation. “Don’t you know how to drive carefully? Besides the concussion, does anything else hurt?” My body didn’t resist his touch. I was stunned. He said, “Forget that pile of work for now. I handled it for you.” Thinking of the morning call, I tested him. “Grant Sterling?” “What is it?” So he was my boss. Was a man this handsome really harassing me? Wasn’t it more likely that I was harassing him? God, had I fallen into a nest of beautiful men? And his body language clearly showed that our relationship was complicated. Had I already become his secret affair? He opened the container and said, “I was short on time, so I made simple home cooking. I’ll bring something better tonight.” 9 As he spoke, he served me food and fed me himself. His expression was cool and detached. Yet he took care of me with astonishing tenderness. I glanced at my roommate. She was looking back at me. Then we both fell silent. My boss knew exactly what I liked and that I hated takeout. He had brought me food himself. He was feeding me. Was this harassment? I chewed mechanically. It tasted good. Then he suddenly asked, “Where’s your engagement ring?” I stared at him blankly. He raised his hand. A simple ring rested on his finger. “I’ve worn mine the whole time.” As if I were guilty for not wearing mine. No. Were we engaged? As though he had finally seen through me, he said, “Again, so your husband won’t find out? When are you going to tell him the truth?” I heard my roommate suck in a breath. I wanted to do the same. But I held it in. 10 He was getting angry. Even the hand feeding me had a sharp, almost vicious edge. “Maya Chen, what makes you think I can keep being your third forever?” His eyes were cold as he looked at me. My scalp prickled. Under that pressure, I promised, “I’ll get divorced as soon as possible.” Otherwise, I was afraid he might strangle me right there. A trace of a smile appeared. “Good. My parents ask every day when we’re getting married. You need to divorce him soon. If my parents find out, it’ll be another mess.” I nodded wildly. Someone had to be lying. I couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend, a fiancé, and a husband all at once. There had to be some hidden explanation. I was an honest, proper girl. In middle and high school, I had cared only about studying and never dated. Even my teachers had held me up as an example for the other students. There was no reason for me to become a woman everyone despised five years later. 11 While I was thinking, he asked, “Have you taken your prenatal vitamins?” I stared. “My what?” He looked disapproving. “Didn’t we agree we were trying for a baby? I’ve been taking mine for two months. You take them for three days, skip two, and that’s bad for the baby.” I stammered, “I—I’m pregnant?” He touched my forehead. “Are you all right? We’re trying to conceive. We’re planning to have a baby.” I had completely lost the ability to speak. I was trying for a baby behind my husband’s back with my fiancé on the side? He pressed his lips together and said, “You should separate from your husband first. If you get pregnant and he hits you again, it could be dangerous.” His expression was full of barely restrained fury. “If he lays another finger on you, I’ll make him regret it!” “That old, ugly bastard married you and still doesn’t know how to treasure you!” My husband was old and ugly? Oh, my God. How could I have slept with him? Was he hitting me because I refused to get close to him? Then why had I married him? Maybe my parents had fallen ill and desperately needed money, so I had sold myself. While I was thinking, Grant handed me a pill. “Prenatal vitamin. Take it.” My scalp went numb. In my mind, I was still a high-school student, still a child, and now I was trying to conceive? Why was I taking prenatal vitamins? Still, I nodded. “No problem.” Only then did he look satisfied. 12 The moment he left, I pulled out my phone, trying to find some clue. But my phone was even cleaner than my face. There was nothing on it. Especially nothing involving those two men. The chat histories with my boyfriend and fiancé were completely blank. For God’s sake. Who had deleted them? Were they really that shameful? The only conclusion I could reach was that I had three men. But my husband was abusive, so he didn’t count. I would deal with him first. Except—who was my husband? He wasn’t even saved in my contacts. I found out soon enough. 13 At two that afternoon, a refined, handsome, mature man arrived at the hospital with a suitcase. He was still wearing a business suit. His long legs and tall frame made him look exceptionally fit. There was a mature charm in every movement. The moment I saw him, my heart began pounding uncontrollably. Wasn’t he Evan Brooks, the upperclassman I had secretly loved all through middle and high school? I had been right not to stop loving him. He hadn’t turned into a middle-aged man with a belly. He was even more magnetic than he had been as a student. I stared at him, practically drooling. He came over, touched my forehead, and asked with intimate tenderness, “Honey, how did you manage to get hurt?” 14 Honey? I was stunned. My old, ugly, abusive husband was him? My roommate and I looked at each other. She stared blankly at the ceiling. Silence. I fell into thought. Oh, God. My dream was shattered. I had loved him for so many years. He was my youth. Why would he hit me? “What’s wrong?” He frowned and wiped away my tears. In a low voice, he asked, “What is it? Did you miss me? I’m sorry I was gone so long on this trip, but I won’t have to travel for a while. Will you forgive me?” I was completely defeated by his mature charm and gentle voice. Was this why I had been beaten and still hadn’t divorced him? Did I believe love could stop pain? Had he knelt before me in this body, cried desperately, and begged me to forgive him? Apparently, growing up hadn’t made me wiser. It had only made me indecisive. An abusive husband was not something anyone could tolerate. After thinking it through, I said directly, “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not falling for it. Let’s get divorced!” 15 His hand stopped as he wiped my tears. He asked incredulously, “What did you say?” I wouldn’t look at him. “Abuse happens either zero times or endlessly. Whatever reason I had for not divorcing you before, I have to do it now!” He laughed in disbelief. “Maya Chen, what are you talking about? I abused you?” “When the hell did I abuse you? Explain it to me.” I froze. But my boyfriend and my fiancé had both said he abused me. Yet Evan looked nothing like a liar. My God, who was lying? Who deceived an honest person like this and still called himself human? I would investigate later. So I turned my tears into a grin and grabbed his hand. “Hahahaha, I was kidding! I was acting. How was my performance?” His expression remained unpleasant. “Don’t let me hear you say ‘divorce’ again. There is no such option in my dictionary.” I hurriedly leaned against him. “Of course not!” 16 The man I had admired for years was actually my husband. He wiped my face and hands, helped me to the bathroom as if I were made of glass, and even bought me a present. He discussed taking me to my parents’ house for dinner that weekend. When he went to the bathroom, I opened his phone. The password was my birthday. I quickly skimmed through our messages. Holy crap. I didn’t even have any chat history with my husband. Who could be this deranged? They had deleted every single message. 17 But the messages on my husband’s phone showed that we were incredibly sweet and loving. And we had texted almost every day. This really didn’t look like an abusive marriage. No matter how much I had changed as an adult, I wouldn’t stay with someone who beat me, would I? And when I saw him, all I wanted was to cling to him. I wasn’t afraid. Our messages were full of everyday work and life updates, casual conversation, mushy “I miss you” and “I love you” texts, and all kinds of spoiled little pleas for attention. When he was home, he often bought me little cakes or flowers. When he traveled, he stocked the refrigerator. He had been away for two weeks. Before leaving, he had filled the freezer with homemade buns, steamed rolls, and dumplings. I hated takeout. That much I remembered. I loved dumplings and buns, but only when they were homemade. I wouldn’t eat frozen supermarket versions. Maybe this husband of mine wasn’t so bad after all. 18 Then why had I cheated? And why did I have two affairs? I frowned and thought hard. There was no way I could have turned into a horrible person. I had been an excellent student all my life, involved in student leadership and community service. Whenever I spoke beneath the school motto or the American flag, my voice had always been strong and clear. I was a girl with ideals, convictions, and morals! In middle school and high school, I had resisted how many admirers throwing themselves at me. I had firmly refused to date young. One of my lifelong ideals had been to become a devoted wife and mother and build a warm home. There was no way growing up had made me want three warm homes instead! So the problem had to be with someone else. Apparently, my husband had no idea I was cheating. The other two men knew I had a husband, but they did not know I also had a boyfriend or a fiancé. Since I was already married—and the marriage seemed perfectly fine—cheating was wrong. I clenched my fists. While uncovering the truth, I also had to find a way to break up with the other two men. Then I had to return to my family. 19 I sent messages to Grant Sterling and Julian Park separately, telling them not to come looking for me. I told Grant Sterling that I was going to confront my husband and ask for a divorce. I told Julian Park that I had to work overtime at the company. I decided I should break up with Julian Park first. He was a celebrity. Breaking up with him should be easier. After they replied, my right thumb expertly held down the conversation and tapped Delete. I was devastated. I stared at my right-hand fingers and silently cursed: You useless hand. So it was you who deleted all my messages! Evan Brooks stayed with me at the hospital. I leaned against his strong chest, played with his long fingers, and watched a show with him. Before long, he fell asleep propped against the bed. 20 He said he had slept only three or four hours a night so he could finish the project early and come home sooner. I looked up at the dark circles beneath his eyes, my heart aching. If Evan Brooks had never done anything wrong to me, and I was the one who cheated, could I forgive myself? No. I would call myself a terrible person! I had to break up with them. I silently tried to figure out how to say it. After all, one man was ready to find me a divorce lawyer, while the other was trying to have a baby with me.