Chapter 295: Work of Art

Cecilia's face stiffened as she glanced awkwardly at him. Nathaniel's eyes were shrouded in darkness, his only guide her voice. "Can you lead me to the bathroom?" he asked.

Returning to her senses, she reached out. "Okay." She helped him rise from the bed, guided him to the restroom, and then left.

A considerable time passed before a loud crash echoed from the bathroom. Cecilia hurried in, finding Nathaniel had knocked over a glass. As he bent to gather the pieces, he cut his hand, blood flowing freely.

"You cut your hand!" Cecilia exclaimed, stopping him. He seized her hand, repeating his question from the previous night: "Do you hate me?"

Cecilia, momentarily taken aback, gently withdrew her hand. "I called the nurse to bandage you."

Ten minutes later, the caregiver had cleaned the bathroom and removed all sharp objects. Nathaniel sat quietly, letting the nurse tend to his wound. She stole glances at his face; even the scars couldn't hide his handsomeness; he was a work of art. By the time she finished, the nurse's face was scarlet.

"The wound is taken care of, Ms. Smith," she said.

"Thank you," Cecilia replied, watching her leave. She closed the door.

Nathaniel had slept soundly all night, preventing her from inquiring about his condition. Though the doctor attributed his memory loss to cranial nerve damage, she remained unconvinced.

"Do you really not remember anything, Nathaniel?" she began.

To her surprise, he asked, "Is my name really Nathaniel?"

Cecilia was dumbfounded. He couldn't even remember his own name? "Yes," she replied.

"Was the woman from last night really my mother?" he asked solemnly.

Despite his memory loss, he retained control, turning the tables with his questions. "Yes," Cecilia answered.

Nathaniel fell silent before adding, "I don't remember anything else. I only remember you and your voice."

"Is that all?" Cecilia asked, confused.

"I still remember that you're my wife, that we're very much in love," he remarked coldly.

Wife? In love? Cecilia was astounded. Yet, she retorted frostily, "You're mistaken. We were planning to divorce when the accident happened." Whether his memory loss was genuine or feigned, she wouldn't deceive him.

Immediately, following the sound of her voice, Nathaniel pulled her into his arms. "Do you not want me anymore, darling?"

The word "darling" stunned Cecilia. At that moment, Elena opened the door, overhearing Nathaniel's words. She quickly retreated, closing the door.

Cecilia struggled against Nathaniel's embrace, but he held her tightly. "My eyes will get better, darling. Don't leave me," he pleaded.

How could he call her "darling" before? He certainly wouldn't beg. Cecilia doubted his amnesia, yet lacked proof. She clenched her fist. "The doctor said your eyes will never get better," she declared mercilessly.

Nathaniel stiffened. Unfazed, Cecilia continued, "Stop pretending, Nathaniel. Whether your memory loss is real or fake, I'm still insisting on a divorce."

As she spoke, his grip loosened.