After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 10

After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 10

“I don’t remember who I used to be.” Camille pushed open her front door and stepped sideways

inside.

Before shutting the door, she delivered one final line. “Have your lawyer contact me to discuss renewal or termination. I’ve drafted both sets of terms already.”

The live comments materialized along the edge of her sight.

[She closed that door without a single moment of hesitation. Back when they fought, she’d always pause before shutting it.]

[Obviously-she lost her memories. She probably thinks he’s being completely irrational.] /

[He looks so broken standing out there… Still, I have zero sympathy. This is karma.]

The door clicked shut. Killian remained frozen in the corridor. The motion-sensor light faded, swallowing him into shadow.

A week passed. Killian didn’t terminate his contract.

He never appeared before Camille again, though all professional communications continued as usual via his assistant.

Camille felt nothing but quiet satisfaction at the return of order.

“Killian scored two goals in last week’s league match,” her assistant set a data report on her desk. “Social media engagement jumped forty percent. Two sportswear brands have reached out to inquire about endorsement terms.

Camille flipped through the pages, her tone calm when she looked up. “Hold firm on the asking price. His current form is peak leverage. We can afford to let brands bid against each other.”

Her assistant jotted down the note. “Also, updates on Silas’s debut commercial opportunities…”

“Wait until he plays that friendly match.” Camille marked her calendar. “A standout performance will drive up his market value. Locking in deals now would undervalue his potential. Brands will push for lower rates if they sense we’re desperate.”

“Understood.”

The assistant closed her notebook and left the office.

The following afternoon, Camille visited the club to finalize details for a sponsor event.

The conference room sat at the end of the corridor. As she rounded the corner, she saw someone walking toward her.

Killian wore his training uniform, his short hair damp with sweat. He visibly slowed when their

eyes met.

Camille stepped sideways to make space, nodded briefly, and kept walking. “Camille.”/

She turned back.

Killian stood three paces away, his expression tangled.

Overhead corridor lighting cast a shadow beneath his brow, deepening the darkness in his

gray-green eyes.

He seemed to carry words he struggled to voice. His lips parted, then closed again. “Will you come to the Manchester City home game next week?”

“That match is already scheduled on my calendar,” Camille replied, speaking in the same tone she used for routine work updates. “I need to evaluate players’ live performance. You know that.”

“Will you stay until the final whistle?”

Camille studied him for a second. “Unless something urgent comes up, I’ll stay until the end.”

Killian dropped his gaze, his jawline tightening before he relaxed again. “Alright.”

Camille nodded and walked away.

She stayed to watch the full match that night.

In the 70th minute, Killian ran onto a diagonal pass and unleashed a powerful volley into the net. The stadium roared for nearly half a minute.

The final whistle blew. The score stood 2-1.

Camille closed her tablet, rose to her feet, and headed toward the player tunnel.

Killian emerged just as she arrived, still glistening with sweat, grass stains marking his knees.

“Camille.” He called out to stop her, guiding her subtly toward a quieter alcove near the tunnel exit.

“How did I play?” he asked, voice rough with exertion

“Excellent.” Camille answered honestly, tilting her tablet toward him to show the compiled match statistics. “These numbers are impressive. I’ll have far more leverage negotiating with those two sportswear brands next week.”

Killian watched her, his gaze lingering on her face.

His gray-green eyes searched for something, yet her expression held no extra emotion. “That’s all you have to say?”

“There’s more.” Camille tapped and swiped across her tablet, turning the screen toward him. “I suggest changing that gesture you use after scoring. Instead of waving to the stands, point to the team crest. Fans respond better to that sense of loyalty, and it boosts your personal brand value.”

She spoke steadily, every point clearly organized.

Killian stared at her for several long seconds, gripping his towel until his knuckles turned white. “Camille… Is there nothing left to talk about between us besides work?”