Page 54 of Neptune

Josephine scoffs. "This house is indeed crazy. You're just a servant. Who do you think you are? You have no right to kick me out of this house."

Ms. Langston seethes. I've never seen her angry. No, she's more than angry now. She's livid.

"I am the housekeeper. I take care of this house, and you are the last person on this planet that Luke ever want to see step in here," she speaks with venom. "Security!" she calls, and shortly after that, the guards rush into the room.

Josephine abruptly stands up when the guards start to drag her out. She struggles to break free, but it's no use.

"Old hag," she spits in disgust at Ms. Langston, but Ms. Langston doesn't waver one bit. She glares at Josephine, watching as the guards get rid of her.

I turn to Ms. Langston, my heart racing inside my chest. "What was that all about? What did she mean?"

Josephine's words are still echoing in my ears.

Ms. Langston pales. "Cassie," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I don't think that it's in my capacity to tell you."

I stare at her, dumbfounded. What the hell is this all about? Josephine thinks that she met me before. She must have mistaken me for someone else.

But somehow, something inside me tells me that it isn't as simple as that.

"We have to wait for Luke," she stutters. "He will explain everything. I'm going to call him," she says before taking out her phone.

"Right now, he might not even want to come back here," I say, feeling my heart sink. "We had a huge fight, and Aiden—"

I can't even finish my sentence. I let out a soft cry.

"Oh, he will," Ms. Langston corrects me. "Especially after that woman dared step into this house. "

I watch as Ms. Langston dials Luke's number. She waits, but Luke isn't picking up the call. My mind is so messed up right now.

I don't know what's going on, why people around me said things I don't understand. It seems that it's only me who is clueless.

While panic crosses Ms. Langston's expression because Luke still hasn't answered her call, my headache attacks me again.

The image of Aiden's face when he looked at me with his teary eyes strikes my mind, and I almost collapse due to the pain.

I drag my feet away from Ms. Langston, trudging toward Luke's bedroom. Our bedroom.

I sit on the edge of the bed, touching my head as I wince in pain. I'm starting to think that I've indeed underestimated this headache.

Is it because I barely had enough sleep last night? That's highly unlikely. As a celebrity, I've had days, even months, when I could barely get enough rest, especially when I was on tour.

With my hectic schedule and Morgan's crazy demands, I've been exploited beyond my capacity as a human, to the point that I've been admitted into a hospital.

But I never had this kind of headache. The pain is so sudden, so sharp and unbearable.

If my assumption is true that this occurs whenever I worry about Aiden, then the connection I feel to the boy is indeed scary.

But now, Josephine's words also bother my mind. Is it possible that she knew me before this? She also said that I've barged into Luke's life before, but that's not possible.

The first time I met Luke was when he sent me a letter to marry him.

Or is there something else that Luke is hiding from me?

While I'm wondering about that, my eyes dart to the nightstand beside the bed. There's a drawer that Luke never opens, the second one from the top.

And somehow, it piques my interest now.

You're crazy, Cassie. It's not like you're going to find a diary that will spill all the secrets you're dying to know.

Luke isn't the type who would write in a fucking diary.

But still, it doesn't hurt to open the drawer even if there's nothing in it. So I open it, and my eyes narrow when I find a white envelope.

I shouldn't just take something that doesn't belong to me, but Luke is my husband. We shouldn't keep any secrets from each other, should we?

Cursing, I take the envelope, silently complaining that it probably won't answer anything about why Luke and Josephine were acting strange.

When I open it, my eyes widen. There are polaroid photos. The first one is of me, but it's the younger version of me.

In the photo, I look like a teenager, wearing a coat. I can't make out where I was, because the picture focuses on me, but it was definitely taken during winter.

I take a look at the second photo. It's still the same photo of me but with a different angle. I can't help but wonder how Luke could have these photos.

I'm positive that they were taken years ago.

When I finally look at the third photo, I can't breathe. It's a photo of me and Luke, my hand on his cheek, his hand on mine.

We're gazing at each other with so much adoration in our eyes. The way we stare into each other's eyes looks as though we're...in love.

My hand shakes, and the photos drop onto the ground. To say that I'm shocked is an understatement. My mind goes blank, and I can only stare at the photos lying on the floor.

With my trembling hand, I pick them up again, and that's when I notice something written on the back of one of them, the one of me and Luke.

Hallstatt, Austria Winter, 201 4

I feel like my heart stops beating. It's seven years ago.

Luke and I have met before. Seven years ago.

But why can't I remember any of it? I know that seven years is a long time—I might have forgotten about it. But the problem is that I don't even remember ever going to Hallstatt.

It's in Austria, and I was there when I was like...18? I don't remember visiting a place that far away before I became a superstar.

What the hell is this all about? This is crazy. Is the picture playing with my mind? But these are real polaroid pictures.

They don't look like they were edited.

I look into the envelope again to make sure that I didn’t miss anything, and surprisingly, I did. There's a ring inside the envelope, and I observe it as it now lies on my palm.

It's Luke's ring, the one I saw on his finger when I met him for the first time. I thought it was a couple ring that he shared with Josephine, but why has he kept it inside an envelope that stores our pictures?

Chills run through my body. Did he share a couple ring with me instead? The lyrics of my latest song, “Winter Escape,” speak about a ring.

The song was drafted in my email in 2014. Was it from my own experience? Did I write a song about Luke?

How can I not remember all of this?

Something suddenly strikes my mind. I may have a good memory, but there's one period in my life that's impossible for me to remember.

It's when I had an accident years ago, in which I lost a part of my memory. It caused me to lose one year of memories prior to the accident.

It was the most absurd thing that had ever happened in my life, and Morgan kept telling me to not think too much about it, to forget about it.

It was so strange that it even felt like a dream.

My head pulses with sharp pain again as I try hard to remember when it happened. It was in 2014 too, I guess, around autumn.

If I met Luke during winter at the beginning of 2014, then I must have forgotten him.

My hand is still shaking when I reach for my phone and dial Morgan's number. She must know something about this.

My heart is beating so fast—I'm afraid that it's going to burst out of my chest.

I wait for Morgan to answer, and to my amazement, she picks up the call.

"You finally realized that you still need me in your life?" her voice echoes in my ear, cold as ice. "You know that you're nothing without me, Cassie."

I feel like snapping at her, but the urgency to unfold the truth prevents me from doing that.

"I just want to talk to you about something important." When I hear nothing from the other side of the line, I continue, "Did you hide some facts from me when I lost my memory seven years ago?"

Silence creeps between us. It takes a while for Morgan to answer.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, her voice small.

I'm starting to feel impatient. "Did you know about my trip to Hallstatt?" I snap.

Again, Morgan doesn't answer right away. Seconds of silence feels like ages to me.

"Cassie, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you dare lie to me," I hiss, feeling tears pool in my eyes, my emotions about to explode. "Did you know about Luke?" I shout. "Did you know that I met him in Hallstatt?"

The sound of something dropping onto the ground echoes from Morgan's side, and I know that she just dropped something due to the shock.

"What?" she blurts out.

Silence fills the air again.

"That guy..." Morgan falters, her voice shaking. "That guy is Luke ?" Disbelief is laced in her tone.

I freeze. So Morgan knew that I met a man in Hallstatt, but she didn't know that it was Luke.

"Why didn't you tell me everything?" my voice cracks. "Why didn't you tell me about him? Did you throw away my ring too?"

"Oh, Cassie," Morgan's voice softens, and it makes me scared, because there's mischief in it. "It was just a holiday fling. It was nothing important."

I'm at a loss for words.

"That guy was no good for you," she says.

"Come on, Cassie. How could you trust a guy that you just met in a random country who gave you empty promises?

I was trying to protect you. Remembering him would only harm you.

Moreover, the doctor said that your memory could come back if you experienced a similar situation or saw things that triggered your memory back, so I was afraid you would freak out if you remembered him. I had to dispose of that ring, Cassie."

I'm trying to calm my breathing, my chest heaving up and down.

"But you just can't—" My words are cut short when she hangs up. Just like that.

I'm utterly speechless.

I've met Luke before. I've forgotten him.

I feel like something is still missing. Morgan has hidden all the things related to my lost memory—there might be other facts that she kept away from me.

But even if Morgan hid everything from me, there must be something only I kept that she missed.

Think, Cassie. Think.

What would I have kept during that one year? Things that would never leave me. There must be some other clues.

Then I remember the packages that Morgan sent to me from LA, my belongings that she returned to me because she didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore .

I rush to the music room. Panting, I stare at my old guitar placed in the corner of the room. It's the guitar I always used to make music from the time I was sixteen—I used it for years.

I must have used it in 2014 too.

I grab it and turn it upside down, shaking it so that a few tiny yellow sticky note balls fall from the sound hole.

I've always had a habit of writing songs on sticky notes before crumpling them into tiny balls and slipping them into the sound hole whenever I feel frustrated.

Now that I watch some of them fall from my guitar, my pulse quickens.

I bend down, open one of them and read the lyrics.

I'm drowning in those beautiful hazels They never leave my mind Just like your laughter Makes me grateful that you're mine

Hazel eyes. Luke's eyes. A tear falls onto my cheek. How could I not remember him?

I open another small sticky note.

I miss you so bad, it hurts Maybe I'll die in seven years Hey Neptune, I believe you Finish what you have to do And come back for us

I wipe my tears away. What kind of promise did Luke and I have? My mind can't stop thinking about these lyrics.

Seven years. Finish what you have to do. What does it mean?

I remember Ms. Langston telling me that Luke's brother, Victor, died seven years ago. I also remember that his family business was on the verge of bankruptcy seven years ago.

Without thinking further, I rush toward the laptop sitting on the desk in the music room. I open the web browser and Google Luke's brother.

I type, Victor Klein , and the search results show up. Thoroughly, I read the headlines.

Victor Klein and his significant other died in a car crash.

After the devastating news about the business going downhill, Klein Enterprise faced another tragedy of losing its first successor.

Victor and Emily died on the spot. Klein Enterprise at its lowest point.

I cover my mouth with my hand, my lips trembling. It must have been hard for Luke to go through all of that. Was bringing his family back from ruins his mission?

Was I even aware of this years ago?

But then I notice that something is odd. There's no mention of Aiden. All the articles only say about Victor's and Emily's deaths.

If Emily was pregnant at that time, shouldn’t it have been on the news? They should have mentioned that a baby survived the accident.

But if Emily wasn't pregnant, what about Aiden? If Aiden isn’t Victor and Emily's child, then whose child is he?

My chest tightens, and my headache begins to disturb me again. My instinct tells me to rush to Aiden's room, and so I do.

I bang the door open, feeling the same agony again as I stare into this empty room. I collapse onto the ground, and while I'm breaking into tears, something catches my attention.

There on the floor lies a pile of drawing papers. I crawl toward it, and my sobs break again as I stare at his beautiful watercolor masterpiece.

It's a painting of our house.

I go through the rest of the watercolor paintings, missing Aiden more with every second passing by. Tears stream down my cheeks even harder as I look at his works one by one.

He has painted many pictures of the three of us. Us playing in the swimming pool. Us eating dinner. Us sitting at the piano bench.

"Aiden," I rasp, the hammer in my head hitting me with such a powerful force, but this time, I don't fight it.

I'm letting it kill me, because I deserve it after what I've said to him.

When I finally hold the last piece of his watercolor paintings, my hand trembles. It's a picture of us lying on his bed, both Luke and I sleeping at his sides, while Aiden is awake, smiling, just like what happened after he was drowning in the swimming pool.

My breathing stops, and my tear falls onto the paper as I read the writing next to me and Luke in the painting. It reads,

Mom.

Dad.