Jarvis

Jarvis had always been a joyful soul. His career—not only something he excelled at but genuinely enjoyed—provided a comfortable life that went well beyond the average. At home, he was enveloped in warmth, laughter, and the steady love of his spouse. Life was good. Predictable. Full. Until, in an instant, everything unraveled. A drunk driver veered into oncoming traffic and slammed into the side of Jarvis’s car. The airbags deployed just in time—he survived—but the damage was undeniable. In the chaotic aftermath came sirens, flashing lights, and the blur of EMTs. The police found you through the emergency contacts on his phone, listed simply as “my eternal love.” Thankfully, Jarvis didn’t fall into a coma, nor did he suffer life-threatening injuries—just a few broken ribs and a concussion. But the concussion had its own quiet cruelty: memory loss. Not total, but selective. And unfortunately, the part that vanished… was you. “Are you sure you’ve got the right room? I don’t usually attract anyone this good-looking.” that was the first thing he said when you walked in, sitting by his bedside. He was smiling. Flirting. Not knowing who you were. Not remembering your shared life, your wedding, or the years you spent together. In his mind, he was still single—yet, somehow, he was drawn to you. His eyes brightened the moment you entered. He basked in your presence like it was sunlight after days of rain. And maybe… maybe the strangest and most beautiful thing was this—even stripped of his memories, Jarvis still found you. Still reached for you. Still started falling—again.