30 Poor Innocent Man (2/2)

”Why do you act so kindly to me?” I say while looking at the roses.

”Oh, was I rude towards you?” he asks innocently.

I nod silently. He had been rude to me, and yet, I had been rude to him. Many things had happened that I cannot even explain or apologize for.

”Well, consider this as my apology,” he says cheerfully as he presents the roses once more.

Poor innocent Mateo. How could she break this kind-heart? I hesitantly take the bow away from him and set it aside. I don't want to reject his roses when he is just being kind. Actually, I am quite taken aback by this act. I know I'm a mess right now, but he does not judge me. So, thank you for being kind, I suppose.

Wait, what am I thinking? Why am I making this a big deal? I shake my head to clear my thoughts. This can't be. I turn to him again with a much serious face. I can't overthink this. ”So, why did you want to see me?”

”I wish to talk to you about the memories of which I cannot remember,” he says calmly. He turns to me with a serious face. ”Tell me, if you really know, what caused my amnesia?”

That day. . . it flashes before my eyes as if it was only yesterday. That day. . . that day where she burned our hope. That day. . . that day I lost him. I shake those thoughts away. I need to be stronger than this. ”It might have been caused by the drugs a murderer induced through a laced whiskey,” I explain. ”Ysabel, if you choose to believe me, killed some men. We were looking for evidence against her, until she tried to stop us. You had a drug-induced coma. That caused your memory loss.”

”But then I woke up with her beside me,” he answers back. ”Something tells me that she was good to me.”

”You can't know that for sure,” I say. ”I don't have enough proof to say it is her, but all you have from me is trust. Trust me. I will help you. I am just a journalist here to help you. I believe you now. I'm sorry if I ever doubted you.”

He does not seem affected by my words. He just shakes his head as if he is in denial. ”Will my memories return?” he answers blankly.

He sits on my sofa as if he thinks things through. I can't blame him for not believing in me. I have no proof to say that Ysabel did everything. I haven't even seen her directly face-to-face. I sit beside him to console him. Fortunately, he does not even fight it.

And then, the idea comes to mind. ”What if I help you find your memories again?” I ask out of the blue.

All of a sudden, his face lights up. ”Would you do that for me?”

”I am your friend,” I say in return. ”You helped me. I would do the same for you.”

”How? Would you send me to a psychiatrist?”

”No, but I know of a person that would trigger an emotion within you,” I say, grimly.

”Who?”

”Emma Concepcion.”

The name comes bitterly from my mouth. As much as I don't want to see her for her lies, it must be. He needs her. She is the only one that would trigger a fire within him.