After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 15

After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 15

She fumbled for her phone. 2:17 a.m.

The knocks were heavy, driven by reckless urgency. The hallway motion-sensor light flickered on

then dimmed again.

Camille pulled on a jacket and walked to the door, peering out through the peephole.

The light switched on once more. Killian stood outside, still soaked, messy hair stuck to his face his eyes rimmed red.

Camille opened the door a crack. “What are you doing?”

“Camille.” Killian’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition. One palm pressed flat against the door, fingertips whitening. “Open the door. I need to talk to you.”

“It’s two in the morning. You have training starting at eight.”

“I’ll leave once I’ve said what I need to.”

Camille studied his face for a beat, then pulled the door open wider.

The instant the gap widened, Killian stumbled forward as if his bones had turned soft, nearly collapsing into the entryway. He was soaked through, carrying the raw chill of the rain.

“Have you been drinking?” Camille stepped backward, frowning at him.

Killian leaned against the entry wall, breathing heavily. When he lifted his eyes, his gray-green irises glistened-she couldn’t tell if it was rainwater or tears.

“I haven’t drunk anything. I just need to say one thing.”

“Speak.”

He stared at her, lips trembling. “I’m your boyfriend, Camille. You can’t erase that just because you don’t remember.”

Camille watched him, silent for several seconds. “I don’t remember any of that.”

Killian’s shoulders sagged heavily, as though the last taut string inside him had finally snapped.

He took a step forward and reached out to wrap his fingers around her wrist, squeezing hard enough to ache. “You can’t do this.”

“Let go, Killian.”

He refused. His grip tightened further, knuckles digging into her skin hard enough to leave red

welts.

The glistening moisture in his eyes spilled over, tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with leftover rainwater and dripping from his jaw.

“You said you loved me more than anything. You promised you’d stay by my side no matter what happened. How can you forget? How could you-”

The live comments stilled for a moment, then trickled back in.

[He’s crying! He’s actually crying!]

[This must be the first time he’s cried in front of her. He always put on a tough act before, but he can’t hold it back anymore.]

[But what good are tears now? She doesn’t remember a single thing.]

[It’s not like she chose amnesia. If anyone’s the innocent victim in all this, it’s Camille.]

Camille tugged her arm hard, unable to break free. Her wrist throbbed where his fingers dug in.

She lifted her gaze to his rain-streaked, tear-wet face, and a sharp twinge shot through her chest. She forced the ache down. “Killian, let go first.”

“I can’t.” His voice strained out of his throat. “If I let go, you’ll slip away.”

“You’re hurting me.”

The words jolted Killian rigid. He glanced down at the red marks wrapped around her wrist, slowly loosening his grip, though he didn’t release her fully.

Camille seized the chance to pull her arm free and stepped backward two paces, creating distance between them. “You need to leave. We can discuss anything you want in the office during daylight

hours.”

Killian stood crammed into the narrow entryway, soaked and disheveled like a drowned animal.

He watched Camille retreat. Less than two meters separated them, yet it felt like an uncrossable abyss. “Camille.”

“Will you leave, or do I call building security?”

Killian’s eyes burned red, his lips drained of color. He stood unsteadily, like a tower ready to

crumble.

He stared at her for a very long time, before finally lowering his head. “I’m going.”

He turned, stumbled out of the entryway, and staggered down the corridor. The door clicked shut

behind him.

Camille leaned against the wood, closing her eyes for a long moment before turning to head back

into her apartment.

When she left for work the next morning, the lobby was empty.

Killian called in sick and skipped morning training. Her assistant sounded anxious when she reported over the phone. “The coach can’t reach him. Calls and messages go unanswered.”

Camille sat in her office, Silas’s commercial contract laid out on the desk, twisting a pen between her fingers. “Do we have a spare key to his apartment?”

“We do.”

“Grab it and come with me to check on him.” Camille closed the file and stood up.

The drive to his apartment building took fifteen minutes.

As Camille waited for the elevator, her assistant spoke quietly beside her. “Ms. Logan… what if something’s wrong with him?”

“He’ll be fine.”

The elevator arrived at the top floor. Camille unlocked his front door with the spare key.

Floor-to-ceiling curtains were drawn, plunging the living room into dim shadow. A faint smell of alcohol hung in the air.

Two empty beer cans sat on the coffee table, and several small white tablets scattered across the carpet beside them.