Thelma rolled up Tyler’s sleeve. Winter clothes were thick, and she struggled a bit.
Her fingers were trembling. She hoped her memory was wrong. She hoped the fragment that had appeared in her mind wasn’t real.
But when she saw the scar on the boy’s arm, she froze completely.
On his soft, chubby, and fair arm was a round, brown, unsightly scar—so glaringly obvious.
A complex surge of emotions filled her heart: bitterness and guilt.
A gust of cold wind blew past, and she felt him shiver slightly. Yet he obediently let her pull up his sleeve without moving at all.
Thelma snapped back to her senses and gently rolled his sleeve back down.
She stood up and looked toward Sam Noah, who had been standing silently nearby.
Gone was his usual polite and gentle expression. Now, his brows were slightly furrowed, and his face carried a serious look as he watched her.
Taking a deep breath, Thelma said to him, “Mr. Sam, may I have a word with you?”
The corners of his mouth lifted into a faint smile. “Sure.”
He walked over and patted Tyler’s head. “Go on to school first.”
The little boy looked curiously at his father, then at Thelma, blinking his bright, beautiful eyes. But he was well-behaved and didn’t ask any questions. Slinging his small backpack over his shoulders, he headed into the school.
Sam Noah walked to the car and opened the door, his smile enigmatic, deep, and unreadable. “Please.”
Thelma got into the car, and Sam Noah entered from the other side. The driver was no longer inside, and the car’s windows were all closed. In this confined space, it was just the two of them.
Until recently, this man had been nothing more than a stranger she had met twice—Tyler’s father, a man she admired for his strong presence and unattainable stature as Mr. Sam.
The only unusual interaction they’d had was yesterday when he had helped her deal with Alan.
The first time she met Sam Noah, he had given her a business card. It identified him as the president of Sam Group. She didn’t know what the Sam Group did, so before going to bed that night, she had looked it up online.
What she found had left her stunned. The Sam Group had started as Blunt Distilleries. Five years ago, before her memory loss, Blunt Distilleries hadn’t been listed on the stock exchange yet, but it was already a household name in the country, especially for its flagship product, Blunt Cellar Liquor. One series of this liquor was even specifically designed for hosting foreign dignitaries.
The Sam family had been in the distillery business for generations, starting with Sam Noah’s great-grandfather. Over the years, they had developed their own brand. About a decade ago, Sam Noah took over Blunt Distilleries. Under his leadership, the company had gone public four years ago, and the Sam family business reached new heights. BluntDistilleries was then renamed Sam Group, which now sold not only liquor but also beverages and snacks, making it a massive enterprise.
Not long ago, Sam Noah was named the youngest outstanding entrepreneur.
When she had read this back then, she immediately realized that this man belonged to a world entirely separate from hers. While their worlds might intersect briefly, they could never truly merge. His world was unattainable, much like the man himself—seemingly approachable yet undeniably distant, a figure standing atop a mountain, forever out of reach.
But now, he might hold another identity in her life, one much closer. His world and hers might actually be intertwined.
He might… be her husband.
The idea was startling like a dream so far-fetched it felt unreal.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked first.
His voice carried a unique magnetism. Though his tone was light, his presence seemed to intertwine with his words, making them carry an air of authority and reverence.
Thelma steadied her breathing. She looked at him—this handsome yet distant man—and asked, “Am I your wife?”
She watched as the smile on his face slowly faded. His gaze grew sharp, and he stared at her intently. Her hands, resting on her lap, instinctively clenched. She met his gaze, determined to hear the answer directly from him.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally said, “Yes, you are my wife.”
He said it so casually, as though simply stating an obvious fact.
