The Husband Who Fell in Love With Me Twice
"Do you enjoy this? Ignoring me like I don't exist? Do you have any idea how humiliating this feels, waiting for you like some fool?"
After three years of a cold, loveless marriage, Selene Henderson finally gathers the courage to walk away from her distant billionaire husband, Sebastian Kingsley.
She's ready to file for divorce... until a tragic accident changes everything.
When Sebastian wakes up with no memory of the woman he once pushed away, Selene finds herself trapped in a marriage she was desperate to escape, this time with a man who suddenly looks at her like she's his whole world.
But can love born from broken memories survive the truth of their painful past?
Or will the secrets she's been hiding destroy them all over again?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
I had waited three years for him to look at me like this, and now that he was, I didn't know where to stand.
SELENE
Three years. Three long years of silence, cold shoulders, and feeling invisible. And now... he was looking at me. Speaking my name. Selene. It rolled off his lips like a spell, shattering the walls I had built around my heart.
But a question burned hotter than relief or joy: Does he remember everything... or just my face?
"How on earth does he remember her and not us?" Nora snapped, pointing at me.
Sebastian's eyes shifted from mine to his sister. "Who... are you?"
Nora scoffed, stepping back, her confidence faltering for the first time.
"Look at me, Sebastian." Mrs. Kingsley said gently, taking hold of his arms. "I'm your mother."
"My... mother?" He echoed, confusion clouding his features.
"Yes!" She exclaimed, a mix of hope and fear in her voice. "Don't you remember me?"
Sebastian furrowed his brows and shook his head slowly.
The doctor stepped forward. "Let's give him some time. He just woke up and needs rest. Why don't we all go to my office for now?"
We began to move toward the door, but then Sebastian's voice stopped me cold.
"Selene." He called again, slower this time, like he was tasting the name on his lips, memorizing it.
I pause, my heart hammering, stunned by the simple weight of my name from his mouth.
"She'll be back." Mr. Kingsley said gently, his hand resting on my shoulder. We followed the doctor out, but I couldn't take my eyes off Sebastian as he lay there, his gaze still searching for me.
When we reached the doctor's office, he gestured for us to sit and spread out a series of papers and charts on the desk.
"Here are the results of the tests we conducted on Mr. Kingsley." He began. "As you can see, he has suffered a form of memory loss called retrograde amnesia. He may not remember certain events leading up to the accident, or even people he knows intimately. This is not uncommon after severe head trauma."
Mrs. Kingsley's eyes flicked toward me, wide with concern. "But... how come he remembers her?" She asked, her voice trembling. I swallowed hard, feeling the same question churn in my chest. Why was it only me?
The doctor gave a small, reassuring smile. "Sometimes a patient only responds to one familiar presence." He explained. "For now, let that person interact with him. The others should step back to avoid causing confusion."
"We... we should step back?" Nora asked, incredulous.
The doctor nodded. "Yes. Too many people at once can overwhelm him. It's important he feels safe and calm."
Mr. Kingsley leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. "So... what do we do to help him regain his memory?"
The doctor's eyes met ours, steady but grave. "Time, patience, and familiar routines. He needs consistency, not pressure. Memories will return gradually, if at all."
He leaned forward slightly. "One thing you must not do is try to force him to remember." He warned. "Pressure or frustration can make the confusion worse."
After a series of questions and explanations, we finally stepped out of the doctor's office, the hallway feeling suddenly quieter, almost too heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.
"I can't believe all this is happening." Mrs. Kingsley murmured, leaning against her husband for support.
Honestly... I could have said the same.
"Let's return home." Julian said, turning to his father.
"That's right." Mr. Kingsley nodded. "You heard the doctor. We need to step back and give him some alone time with his wife."
My eyes widened at the words alone time.
All of their gazes shifted toward me.
"I hate to say this," Nora said, folding her arms, her voice tinged with something between resignation and irritation, "but I'm trusting you to take care of my brother."
Julian smiled at me, reassuring yet expectant. "Of course she will. She's his wife, after all."
I forced a small, almost fake smile, feeling the tight knot of nerves in my stomach. Everything that had happened this morning-the accident, his confusion, the questions, the doctor's warnings-was strange and overwhelming. And now... being alone with Sebastian? I wasn't ready. Not yet.
"What are you still doing here?" Mrs. Kingsley said gently. "Go to your husband. He must be waiting for you."
"Ah... okay." I mumbled, forcing my feet to move toward Sebastian's ward.
Suddenly, everyone expected me to play the role of a devoted wife. If only they knew that just hours ago, I had been ready to ask for a divorce.
I stopped in front of his door, my hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, I finally pushed it open.
But Sebastian wasn't on the bed.
Instead, I found his secretary, Vincent, seated beside it. He immediately stood up and gave a polite bow.
"Where is he?" I asked, pointing at the empty bed.
"He's taking a shower." Vincent replied, adjusting his glasses.
"Is he even allowed to walk?" I muttered under my breath.
Vincent picked up his suitcase from the floor. "Since you're here, I'll take my leave."
"Wait." I said quickly. "Did he recognize you?"
Vincent shook his head. "No. He didn't even listen to anything I had to say. He kept asking about his wife."
"What?" The word slipped out before I could stop it.
He offered me a polite smile before slipping out of the room. I moved closer to the bed, smoothing out the wrinkled sheets with trembling fingers, trying to busy myself with something to calm my nerves.
The bathroom door creaked open.
I looked up just as Sebastian stepped out, shirtless, a thin veil of steam following him. His hair was still damp, dark strands falling over his forehead, droplets trailing down his temples and across his bare chest.
He stopped the moment his eyes met mine.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
I swallowed hard.
I had never really seen him like this before, not like this, not when his gaze held mine so openly, so gently.
A small smile curved his lips.
"Oh... you're here."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in the bedsheet beneath my hands.
"I... I was told to come." I muttered, twisting the fabric between my fingers.
Silence followed.
I frowned, wondering why he hadn't replied, and just as I was about to turn around-
Warm breath brushed against my ear.
I froze.
My heart skipped violently as his presence settled behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.
"Are you always this shy, wife?"
His voice was low, teasing.
I sucked in a shaky breath.
When did he get this close?
You may also like
9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
8.3
Betrayed at the altar. Replaced by her own sister.
On what should have been the happiest day of her life, Amara loses everything-her fiancé, her dignity, and her future.
But that same night, a dangerous man steps out of the shadows with an offer she can't refuse.
Marriage. Power. Revenge.
Now bound to a ruthless CEO, Amara is ready to destroy everyone who betrayed her.
There's just one problem...
Her new husband knows more about her past than he should.
And the closer she gets to revenge-
the more she realizes she may have married the man who ruined her in the first place.
8.4
Carissa's son was dying in the ICU, and the bone marrow match had just failed.
The billionaire father, Guilford Gates, cornered her with a cruel ultimatum: naturally conceive a "savior sibling" to save their son. But what shocked Carissa more was his family's sudden accusation that she had heartlessly sold her baby to them three years ago.
"You sold your own flesh and blood to us for five million dollars, so your body belongs to the Gates family."
She was dragged into their gilded estate, treated like a filthy, rented womb. Guilford's new fiancée mocked her, the matriarch humiliated her, and Guilford looked at her with pure disgust. When she desperately tried to feed her sick son and accidentally made him vomit, Guilford violently shoved her away and banned her from the room.
Carissa was devastated and entirely confused. She had never seen a single cent of that five million. Driven by a desperate need for the truth, she investigated and uncovered a horrifying reality: her own father and stepmother had secretly trafficked her baby to the billionaire behind her back, leaving her to bear the ultimate blame.
Looking at the bank transfer record bought with her son's life, the last shred of Carissa's vulnerability died.
She signed the conception contract without asking for a single penny. She was going to use the Gates family's immense power to destroy the blood relatives who sold her, and she would survive this hell to take back her son.
9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
8.3
Alena landed at JFK, eager to call her fiancé of three years.
But a sudden message from her best friend shattered her world: a high-resolution photo of Darrin passionately kissing another woman. The woman was Katrina, her older sister.
Alena rushed to the grand ballroom and confronted them in front of New York's elite. Instead of an apology, her own mother slapped her across the face.
"You jealous, spiteful girl. Trying to ruin your sister's happiness because you can't handle your own failures."
Darrin coldly wrapped a protective arm around Katrina. The nightmare worsened when they ambushed Alena at her apartment, demanding she sign an NDA to cover up the affair and save their family's failing business. If she refused, her father threatened to tell her frail grandfather the truth, knowing the shock would trigger a fatal heart attack.
Alena was suffocated by the sheer magnitude of the betrayal. Her family was weaponizing the only person who truly loved her, treating her like a disposable pawn to protect the sister who stole her life. How could her own flesh and blood be so sickeningly cruel?
Cornered and entirely out of options, Alena pulled a matte-black business card from her pocket.
It belonged to Andrew Spencer, the ruthless billionaire who had rescued her from the freezing rain, and the apex predator Darrin feared most. He had offered her a transactional marriage. If her family wanted to destroy her, she would become their worst nightmare. She picked up her phone and dialed his number.
9.2
I was a broke freelance copywriter, tortured for three sleepless nights by an impossible corporate client.
Needing to vent, I typed out a wild, highly inappropriate rant mocking the brand's stiff heritage.
But in my exhausted, sleep-deprived blur, I accidentally sent the massive block of text to the wrong chat.
The recipient wasn't my friend. It was Emerson Beard, the elite, ruthless brand consultant I was supposed to desperately network with.
I waited for the professional execution, terrified of the massive five-figure penalty fee hanging over my head.
Instead, he didn't block me. He critiqued my unhinged draft.
He saved my career through late-night, encrypted phone calls, his deep, commanding voice becoming my only lifeline.
But when I heard a woman with a sultry French accent knocking on his hotel door during our call, my ugly jealousy flared.
I yelled at him and hung up, completely humiliating myself.
I thought I was just a pathetic, annoying workaholic interrupting his romantic getaway.
But he texted back to clarify he was entirely single, and in the process, realized I was actually twenty-five, not a fresh-out-of-school teenager like he had assumed.
The cold, distant mentor instantly vanished.
In his place was a man radiating a raw, aggressive, and predatory energy that bled right through the screen.
"Texting is too inefficient. The full integration requires face-to-face communication."
He dropped a location pin for an ultra-exclusive Manhattan club, demanding I meet him to save my contract.
Wearing a desperately bought emerald silk dress, I pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping right into the trap of a man who had just taken off his leash.