The Lover My Brain Chose to Forget

Three years ago, I've pushed my boyfriend, Niccolo Moretti, into the sea even though he doesn't know how to swim. Then, I leave the scene with my new beau.

Niccolo is lucky enough to survive the ordeal. After he gets saved by the Greco family, he's quick to get betrothed to the principessa of the family, Bianca Greco.

Everyone claims that I'm a heartless woman who's capable of killing her ex-boyfriend just to be with her new lover. But what they don't know is that I've gotten diagnosed with anterograde amnesia.

It feels as though there's an eraser that has erased everything about Niccolo in my mind.

Three years later, Niccolo and Bianca bump into me at a restaurant.

He gazes at me haughtily, though immense hatred can be seen burning in his eyes.

"Elena Mancuso, when you pushed me into the sea and left with another man, did you ever think that your family would get annihilated one day, leaving you without any protection?

"To think that the principessa of the Mancuso family is now working at a restaurant as a pathetic waitress!"

I don't remember having met the man in front of me at all.

"Did you mistake me for someone else, sir?"

Niccolo continues to mock me. "Oh, so now you're acting, huh? Fine, we'll go along with your performance. Bring me the menu."

Upon hearing that the customers want to dine in this restaurant, I glance at the memo app on my phone before passing a menu to them as per the instructions.

"Elena, when did you become such a good actress?" the man asked, his gaze cold and piercing.

I could hear his words, but they didn't make sense to me. I tried to steer the conversation back. "Signore, are you ready to order?"

He ignored the question and continued with his strange accusations. "Since when do you step foot in a kitchen or do chores? You actually enjoy this kind of grunt work now?"

Was that true? I had no memory of it.

All I knew was that I had to show up here every day to keep a roof over my head.

"I'm sorry, Signore. I'm not sure I follow."

The woman beside him let out a cold laugh and leaned into his arm. "Nico, look at her playing the victim. What a performance. She didn't look this pathetic three years ago when she pushed you into the ocean."

I watched the expression of the man named Nico darken instantly.

Feeling a flicker of fear, I quickly held out the menus and readied my pen and notepad. "Perhaps you'd like to see the menu first."

Nico didn't even look at it. "Fettuccine carbonara, a Margherita pizza, Florentine steak, and tiramisu."

I scribbled the items down.

The woman took her time flipping through the pages, eventually rattling off several appetizers.

I struggled to keep up with her pace, and my handwriting became a messy scrawl.

"Did you get all that?" she asked, looking up.