My Boyfriend Pretended to Forget about me, and I Put him to Jail

My boyfriend, Cayson Morris, had a car accident and lost his memory.

I kept vigil by his side, always thinking he would come to remember me.

But later, Lydia George, his first love, came back from abroad, and he finally "regained" his memory.

He said to me, "I never lost my memory. I just used you as a stand-in, and now I'm tired of it."

On the same day he broke up with me, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in his hospital room after his car accident.

He looked at me, confused. "Who are you?" I gave him a professional smile and said, "I'm your caregiver, sir. I'll go get the doctor."

...

I pressed the call button with a precision that felt as if I had practiced it a thousand times.

Cayson's good-looking face was filled with shock. He had probably expected me to react as I did in my previous life, bursting into tears of joy and telling him I was his girlfriend, Tricia Graham.

Unfortunately, Tricia was gone in my previous life.

She died at the age of twenty-five, on the same day she was diagnosed with cancer.

The doctor and the nurse arrived quickly. They performed a series of checks on Cayson.

I stood there quietly and watched them as they worked.

"The patient's vital signs are stable. However, he appears to have no memory of the past," the doctor said to me while shining a flashlight into Cayson's pupils.

I nodded and took out a notebook and put it down. "The patient has awakened. It is confirmed that he lost his memories."

My handwriting was neat and steady, without a tremor.

Cayson's gaze was fixed on me. He was curious and slightly frustrated.

He couldn't understand my reaction.

In his plan, I was supposed to be devoted and head over heels for him. But I seemed so unfamiliar at that moment.

After the doctor and the nurse left, only the two of us remained in the room.

The room was quiet. Only the ticking of the machines was audible.

"Did we... know each other before?" he finally asked, unable to hold back.

I closed my notebook and looked up at him. I gave him a textbook-perfect smile. "Sir, my job is to take care of your physical needs, not to engage in conversation with you."

He furrowed his eyebrows instantly, and anger flashed in his eyes. "What attitude is that?"

"A professional attitude," I replied calmly.

"If you're dissatisfied with my service, you can complain to my employer, your parents." With that, I ignored him and began checking the flow rate of the IV drip.

Cayson had likely never been contradicted like this before. His face turned pale with anger, and his chest heaved.

He wanted to lash out, but a mere twitch ignited a searing pain in his wound, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

I didn't even look at him. "The doctor says you need rest and shouldn't get emotional."

He stared at me intently, like a caged animal.

And I was the keeper holding the key to the cage.