After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 12

After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 12

Out of the corner of his eye, Silas caught sight of Killian approaching. Instinctively, he shifted half a step closer to Camille, bringing them nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.

Killian’s footsteps halted. He stopped two paces away, his gaze sweeping from Silas’s relaxed hand at his side to Camille’s profile.

Live comments floated overhead.

[Is Silas doing that on purpose? He clearly saw Killian coming and moved closer to Camille.]

[Definitely intentional. The kid’s got pride. He hasn’t forgotten the jab Killian threw at him out on the training ground.]

[Just look at Killian’s eyes. The jealousy is practically radiating through the screen.]

Camille finished speaking and noticed him at last. She tilted her head and nodded briefly in greeting.

Silas offered Killian a small smirk, a cocky edge that belied his age. “I watched your match today, Senior. Those dribbles were impressive.”

“I don’t need your appraisal,” Killian retorted.

The comment stream exploded instantly.

[Whoa, his tone is pure vinegar.]

[LMAO Silas was paying him a compliment and he still flies off the handle.]

[He’s not even thinking about the match. All he can fixate on is why Silas gets to stand beside her.]

Silas shrugged and glanced toward Camille. “Ms. Logan, I’m heading back out to the pitch.”

Camille nodded. “Go on.”

Silas acknowledged her and sprinted off. He moved with light, long strides, the number printed on the back of his jersey billowing in the wind.

Killian stared at the retreating figure, his jawline drawn taut like a bowstring ready to snap. “Camille, you’ve been spending a great deal of time with Silas lately.”

“He’s my player. How am I supposed to guide him if I keep my distance?” Camille remained focused

on her tablet, not lifting her head.

Killian suddenly reached out and pressed his palm against the top edge of her tablet, tilting it downward until she had no choice but to look up.

“Look at me. Can you meet my eyes when I speak to you?”

Camille lifted her face, her expression unruffled.

“I heard you,” she said. “I still have work to complete. Not looking at you doesn’t stop me from

listening.”

Live comments filled the stream.

[Hahaha that line is brutal. “Not looking at you doesn’t stop me from listening.” Absolute

heartbreak.]

[Once upon a time, Camille couldn’t tear her eyes off him mid-conversation. Now she thinks meeting his gaze wastes working time. The contrast is devastating.]

[Killian’s crumbling under this cold treatment. He’s never had anyone treat him like this before.]

Killian held her gaze for several long seconds, his hand still resting on the edge of the tablet,

knuckles drained of color.

Tense silence hung thick in the air. Staff members passing by pretended not to witness their standoff and hurried to circle around them.

“I don’t like how close you get to him.”

Camille paused for a beat before answering. “Your feelings are not part of my job responsibilities.”

The words landed like a physical blow. He yanked his hand away and stepped back half a pace.

He stood there, his chest heaving harder than it had after running a full ninety-minute match. “You never let other players get this close to you before.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t remember the past.” A flicker of exhaustion finally seeped into Camille’s tone, worn thin from repeating the same conversation. “What exactly do you want, Killian?”

Killian’s lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. “When I tried to look out for you, you accused me

of being controlling. Now that I step back, you claim I don’t care. You can’t even sort out your own

feelings-why should I be expected to guess them?”

Camille said nothing.

She tucked her tablet under her arm and walked past him. “Don’t be late for the brand photoshoot

tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. My assistant sent you the studio address.”

Her voice faded as she moved away.

Killian stayed rooted in place, head hung low, shoulders rigid.

Live comments scrolled beside him. Camille was already several steps ahead, catching the final line

from the corner of her eye.

[He looks like a dog abandoned out in the rain by its owner.]

She shut the thought away and kept walking.

That evening, Maren posted a photograph to her social media.

Two intertwined hands, fingers laced together, a silver ring resting on one ring finger.

Her caption held only two words: Peace.