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Little Mrs. Forgetful

Author: Marylla_Amor
Urban
Ongoing · 47K Views
  • 21 Chs
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Synopsis

She liked him first. He never liked her back. She stalked him. He hated her. She loved him. He never loved her until that incident happened that made him fall for her like crazy. She moved on. He won her back. They got married and lived happily after. So what's the twist? She forgot everything about him. Now it's his time to make her like him again. To stalk her. To make her fall for him all over again. To win her heart back again. Will Mr. Hughes, the wifeless husband finally make Ruth, his forgetful wife come around for the second time?

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Chapter 11: The guy next door is my husband?

"Who knows how long I've loved you…You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime if you want me to I will…For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name, but it never really matter, I will always feel the same."

"Love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love you when we're apart."

That strangely familiar acoustic love song echoed along the corridor as I walked past a half-opened door just across my doorway.

I stood there listening to the rest of the song and held the box tightly sitting across my chest as I slightly peeked on the person standing in front of the loud speaker just behind the door.

It might be my new neighbor.

There were still boxes sitting randomly outside and, in the doorway, so possibly, the new unit owner must have just moved in.

"And when at last I find you; your song will fill the air. Sing it loud so I can hear you, Make it easy to be near you. For the things you do endear you to me, Ohh... you know I will…"

"Ohh…you know I will." I sang thoughtlessly.

The door in front of me suddenly opened wide and there I was greeted by a tall man on his simple white shirt and gray pants.

"Hi!" I gasped.

The guy casually put his two hands inside his front pockets revealing his disarming perfectly shaped biceps.

My eyes parked for a couple of seconds at his waving arm muscles first before I shifted my undivided gaze to his serious but handsome face.

"Hi." He answered with his deep baritone voice.

A little knot on my forehead appeared. His voice sounded overly familiar.

I cleared my throat and beamed a smile.

"Have we met before, Mister?"

The man stood against the wall and glanced at me sideways. There was something sparkling at the side of his lips.

"I'm not sure. I just moved in today."

I stared at his somewhat amused face while I tried my all to remember the day I could have possibly first met him.

"Really? I just can't remember right now but I think we've met before."

He simply shrugged his shoulders then offered his right hand to me. "Matt. Matt Hughes."

"Oh!" I quickly put down the box I was carrying and accepted his hand. "I'm sorry for forgetting my manners. My name is Ruth. Ruth Hamilton. Your next-door neighbor, apparently."

He gently squeezed my hand and admittedly, it gave me somehow a reassuring warmth and security. That warmth coming from his hand enveloping mine made my heartbeat run wild. It felt weird to feel this way for someone I just met.

"No worries."

"You don't know this but let me tell you as early as now, I tend to forget things. Many things matter of fact." I chuckled with that fact. Since I reached my early 20s, I noticed being more forgetful as the years go by. That's why I have a lot of sticky notes inside my apartment. Everywhere. Every time. Lately, even faces of people close to me started to fade in my memory that's why I had to take precautionary measures to prevent offending people.

"I know." His gaze seemed boring a hole in the middle of my face.

There was a hint of sadness at the same time a tinge of longingness and regret in his eyes.

What was that?

"W-What did you say?"

He then let go of my hand and pointed at the box sitting in between us.

I grabbed the box again and opened it. "Stuff. Some stuff to aid my failing memory." I took out a bundle of sticky notes and some photographs I took last week while on a vacation in the Philippines.

He borrowed one of the photographs and stare at it quietly for a few moments.

"You looked happy." He commented.

I then moved to his side to look at the photograph he was holding.

Matt was somewhat over six feet. I was lucky his shoulders were at my eye level.

It was my photograph with the Ivatan children in the northernmost island of the Philippines.

"That experience was fun." I laughed at the sight of my face full of mud and dirt on the photo. "We had a little send-off party back there and these kids prepared a surprise for us. I didn't know it would involve some water gun fighting and mud crawl racing." I reminisced less mindful of Matt's presence beside me.

"So, you're into travelling?" he asked as he hand the photo back to me.

"Yes. I travel for learning. I travel for healing. I travel for self-discovery and freedom." I felt so comfortable talking with this stranger standing beside me for some reason. Somehow, I felt so at ease and unthreatened.

I wonder why.

He simply nodded his head as if he was satisfied with my answer.

"What about you? Any interest or hobbies during your free time?" I bravely asked.

He didn't answer rather took the box of "stuff" from me and made three steps towards my doorway.

In an instant, I was standing from his behind with a full view of his broad posterior.

Nice is an understatement.

"Uhm…keys?" he said eyeing the keys I was holding at my left hand.

"Oh my!" I unlock the door and opened it for him. "Thanks!"

He walked in, left his shoes by the doorstep and changed to my spare footwear.

Within ten steps, he made it across the living room to the kitchen counter and safely placed the box on top of it.

He then put both of his hands on his waist and looked around my apartment.

I hesitantly pulled down the curtain so he wouldn't notice the pile of paper works I left on the kitchen table last night. Good thing, the lights I had inside the living room and the kitchen were almost dim to dark. I forgot to change the lightbulb last week that caused me to always hit the center table whenever I cross the living room going to the kitchen.

I made a mental note to replace it after Matt leave.

Then I remember the take out leftovers I had last night. It was still on the kitchen sink. I rushed to the sink but Matt was already there.

"What happened to the lights?"

By that time, the lights were flickering. I guess it will only last for a couple of minutes before it totally snaps out.

I sheepishly smiled. "I forgot to change it. But don't mind it. I will work on it after you leave."

He simply nodded and walked towards the veranda. "Where's your ladder?"

"Uhm??? What?"

He already opened the door going out to the veranda and when he returned, he was already holding the ladder in his left arm.

"Where's the spare light bulb?" he asked again before he switched off the lights.

The only source of light we had that night inside the house was the surprisingly bright moonlight coming through the kitchen window.

I reluctantly handed him the light bulb I took from the box he just brought in. "Here."

Strange.

I just found myself standing against the ladder as I was holding a flashlight pointing it up to the ceiling while Matt climbed up the ladder replacing my lights.

"I-I have some questions."

"Yeah?" he answered, still busy doing the "light works".

I bit my lip. I mean, I could be wrong but…

"Well, first, how did you know I own a ladder and I hid it in the veranda? And second, how come you act so familiar inside my house?"

He did not respond. He finished changing the lights in the kitchen and in the living room before he looked at me with his already very amused eyes.

"There." He switched on the light. "Just like before."

Confused, I had a mouthful surge of questions in my mind. I faced him with a big knot on my forehead.

"Tell me, who are you Mr. Matt Hughes?"

He made two steps forward and looked me in the eyes.

Suddenly my heartbeat raced like horses again.

"Who am I you ask?"

"Yes. Do I know you from before? Why do you act so natural inside my house? Do we have something in the past that I have to know about? Are we---you know? Are we---?

"Married?" he cut me. "Yes. My little forgetful, Mrs. Ruth Therese Hamilton Hughes."

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