âBut I like itâ¦â I whispered softly.
I loved mango pudding, but ironically, I was allergic to mangoen. So every time I sneaked a purchase, Steven would cover for me, claiming it was his favorite. He only allowed me to have a little while eating the rest himself.
He said he loved mango pudding.
But in reality, it was âStephanieâ who loved it.
He was just âforcedâ to like it.
âJust a little then,â Steven said softly. He was ready to take me away.
Michael stood rigid while trying to make an explanation.
âStephieâ¦
âI remember telling you âStephanieâ is allergic to mangoes.â Before, his ignorance was excusable, but now, his continued obliviousness seemed glaring. Love was apparent even in the little things.
âStephie, itâs not like that. Since youâre Stephany now, I assumedâ¦â Michael was trying to explain that Stephany wasnât allergic to mangoes.
Still, he was subconsciously suspicious of my identity as Stephanie.
Yet, he stubbornly and obsessively wanted to transform Stephany into Stephanie, He wanted to treat me like his puppet, a perfect substitute.
love will âMichael, youâre as selfish as ever. You love no one, only yourself. Didnât anyone ever tell you fade?
Especially love thatâs obtained through deception.â I retorted sarcastically while firmly holding Stevenâs hand.
He went to great lengths to deceive me, yet still failed to cherish what he had.
Michaelâs hands fell limply. He wanted to say he loved Stephanie.
However, his throat seemed to hurt so much that he couldnât speak.
He had put in so much effort to make Stephanie love him, to become the lover in her heart.
But in the end, he only moved himself.
âIf you donât want Yasmin to die, let us go,â I spoke again while holding Stevenâs hand firmly.
I would not let go of him anymore..
I owed him too much.
Stevenâs aggression seemed much lessened perhaps because of my presence. He would look at me softly.
Z 22 âStephie, heâs bad. He always wants to take you away,â he whined again.
I tightened my grip on his hand.
Michaelâs eyes darkened. In fact, he had no intention of letting us go.
I knew he was stalling for time. Martinâs men were probably already on their way.
âMike, save me!â The threat to Yasmin escalated as the knife nicked her neck. She cried and begged Michael to save her.
I looked into Michaelâs eyes. He was waiting.
Suddenly, I grabbed a knife from one of the guards and held it to my own neck.
What if âStephanieâ died?
âStephieâ¦â Steven panicked and looked at me helplessly.
Michael, too, became frantic. âStephieâ¦â
âLet us go.â My gloomy eyes were fixed on him.
Michael had no choice but to give in. He stepped aside, and the guards opened the door.
I took Stevenâs hand and led him out.
âSteven, letâs go home.â
I took him to escape.
Steven smiled as he watched my back and felt me holding his hand.
âStephie, letâs go home.â
âStephanie, he canât protect you. The loss of memory isnât a choice that can be controlled, but you can. Itâs only the memories you strongly want to forget that get sealed away. You donât love him! Itâs you who wants to forget him!â Michael shouted from the doorway.
I stopped, but I didnât turn back.
Steven looked at me anxiously. He was scared.
What exactly were the memories that made me so desperate to forget, to erase Steven and everything related to the orphanage from my mind?
âStephie, donât listen to him,â Stevenâs eyes went red. It was as if he was begging me not to abandon him.
âI donât care what memories Iâve lost. Right now, all I want is to go home with you.â I held his hand and was ready to leave.
Defortunatalu Martine nor was al