I Pretended To Be His Crush For Three Years Chapter 18

I Pretended To Be His Crush For Three Years Chapter 18

Nora didn’t take Reid home with her.

Not because he didn’t want to go. Because she didn’t know where to take him. Her apartment was too small

-just one bed-and Reid, in his current state, was a man who didn’t recognize her, controlled by a system, liable to be pulled in another direction at any moment. What would it even mean to bring him home?

So they made an agreement.

He would stay in his apartment. She would come see him every day. No agenda. No deadline. Just to be

there.

Day one. When Nora arrived, Reid was on the sofa, flipping through the notebook. He looked up at the sound

of the door. His gaze was still unfamiliar-but there was something in it that hadn’t been there the day

before. Nora couldn’t name it. Curiosity, maybe. Or something else entirely.

“You’re here,” he said.

“Mm.” Nora set the breakfast she’d brought onto the coffee table-a hot Americano, black, no sugar, no milk,

and a croissant.

He glanced at the coffee and frowned. “How did you know I like this?”

“Because we used to be lovers. The two people who knew each other best.”

Reid stared at her for a moment, stunned. He said nothing.

Day two. When he opened the door, his hair was wet, fresh out of the shower, a clean white T-shirt on. The

stubble on his jaw was shaved clean. He looked much more awake.

“How are you today?” Nora asked.

“Okay.” He stepped aside to let her in. “That notebook-I read it again.”

“And?”

“And I noticed something strange.”

“What?”

“Everything written in it-I don’t remember a single thing. But when I read it…” He paused. “It felt familiar.”

“That means your body still remembers.”

“My body?” He looked at her. “The way you talk is different from other people.”

“How so?”

“Other people would say your subconscious still remembers.’ But you said ‘your body.” His gaze settled on her face. “You think the heart and the brain are separate, don’t you?”

Nora froze

Those words. He’d said them before. Exactly the same.

Back when they’d first gotten together, she’d asked him why he liked her. He’d said he couldn’t explain why- he just felt that the heart and the brain were separate things, that the heart knew things the brain didn’t.

He’d forgotten everything. But he hadn’t forgotten those words.

“Maybe.” Nora lowered her head and smiled.

Day three. He poured her a glass of water before she even asked.

Day four. He asked if she’d eaten dinner.

Day five. When Nora walked in, two cups of hot Americano sat on the coffee table.

“I don’t know if you drink this,” he said, his tone a little awkward. “But the notebook says you do.”

Nora looked at the two cups, side by side. Her eyes grew suddenly warm.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “Nora.”

He’d called her by name. The first time in all these days.

Not “you.” Not “that person.” Nora.

When his tongue and lips shaped those two syllables, muscle memory ran faster than anything his brain

could recall.

Nora didn’t cry. She just sat down, picked up the cup, and took a sip.

“Does it taste right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Perfect.”

Day seven.

She went to Reid’s apartment as usual. When she reached the door, it was open.

She pushed it and walked in. The living room was empty. The guitar still leaned against the sofa. The notebook lay open on the coffee table, turned to the very last page.

“Find me. Bring me back. Please.”

The words had been traced over and over. The paper was worn smooth, gleaming faintly with oil from repeated touch.