She Remembered Every Lie

Summary

A week before our wedding, the black SUV ran a red light and crushed the passenger side of my sedan. My mother threw herself across the console to shield me, ending up in critical condition, while I woke up under fluorescent hospital lights diagnosed with temporary post-traumatic amnesia.

Or so they thought.

Three days into my stay, the fog in my mind finally burned away. The memories came rushing back with terrifying clarity: the intersection, the smell of burnt rubber, the ring in my pocket, the ten years of my life.