Woman Rescues a Man Who Has Lost His Memory and Tells Him She is His Fiancée – Story of the Day

After a robbery left me with amnesia, I woke up to a girl claiming to be my fiancée. Back home, odd clues piled up: my dog’s hostility towards her, her ignorance of our home, and hidden photos of a stranger in the attic. Something wasn’t right.

My name is James, and I’m a 30-year-old banker. My life was a series of daily routines until one Tuesday changed everything. I arrived at the train station at 8:30 a.m. as always, cherishing the calm before my day started.

I found my usual spot on the platform, away from the crowd, and started reading a book. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from my fiancée, my main source of love and support since I had no family left.

Train station background | Source: Shutterstock

She wrote, “I miss you.”

I replied, “I miss you too,” and went back to my book.

Two men approached me as I read. They looked rough and made me uneasy, but I tried to remain calm.

“Hey, man,” one of them yelled. They moved closer, scanning me.

“Any problems, guys?” I asked, trying to keep the tone polite but firm.

“That’s for you to tell us, man,” the taller one said mockingly. It was clear they were not here for a friendly chat.

The shorter guy tried to grab my bag. “What’s in here?” he demanded.

Robber snatching bag | Source: Shutterstock

“Listen, guys, I don’t want any trouble. Let’s just walk away,” I said, my hand tightening on my things.

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Give us the bag,” the shorter one insisted. I refused to give in. This was about principle. As we struggled over the bag, a girl approached, looking concerned.

The men panicked at her approach, briefly loosening their grip, but it was such a sudden movement that I lost my balance and fell onto the track, my head hitting the ground hard.

Pain engulfed me, and my vision blurred…

Abstract blur of a hospital room | Source: Shutterstock

***

I woke up in a hospital. Everything was blurry at first. A man in a white coat leaned over me. A doctor, I realized. The room was stark and sterile.

Then I saw her, a beautiful girl holding my hand. She was a stranger, yet she held on as if we had a lifetime of memories together.

The doctor shone a light into my eyes, but I was distracted by the girl’s worried expression. She tried to comfort me, but her name was a mystery to me.

Words started making sense gradually, like a radio finding its frequency. “Sir, do you understand what I’m asking?” the doctor inquired.

Health care | Source: Shutterstock

“I didn’t hear you,” I replied, struggling with each word. I tried to swallow, but my throat was a desert.

“Do you remember your name?” he persisted.

“James,” I answered, a sliver of relief cutting through the fog of confusion.

“And your date of birth?” he continued. The numbers came to me surprisingly easily.

As the doctor probed further, asking about the sky’s color and the current president, some answers came quicker than others, making me frown. Bits of my life, like my street and the touch of a dog’s fur, came back to me, but many details remained out of reach.

Engagement ring | Source: Shutterstock

The doctor then explained, “You’ve been in a coma for five days due to a traumatic brain injury.” He went into some more details, but I didn’t get all the medical jargon.

Turning to the girl beside me, whose presence was both comforting and confusing, I asked, “Who is this?”

Tears flowed as she answered, “James, it’s me, Lucy,” but her name sparked no recognition.

“Lucy… who?” I repeated, squinting my eyes at her face.

“Your fiancée,” she said, showing a ring that held no meaning for me.

“I don’t know her or that ring,” I confessed to the doctor, feeling lost.

In the Hospital | Source: Shutterstock

“You might have amnesia,” the doctor suggested, promising further tests and reassurance.

Alone with Lucy, her worried eyes turned to me again. “Do you not remember me?” she asked, only adding to the weight of my confusion.

“No, sorry,” I replied, closing my eyes.

The doctors’ tests later confirmed that I was fine physically, but they had no real answers for my amnesia. It could be temporary or permanent, which left me feeling fragmented and even more lost. Lucy’s attempts to conceal her despair did little to ease the heavy silence between us.

After two weeks in the hospital, I was discharged. Despite my eagerness to leave, apprehension about what lay ahead lingered. Lucy shared stories of our lives, but they felt like tales from someone else’s existence, making me feel even more disconnected.

Aggressive dog | Source: Shutterstock

I hoped returning home might spark some recognition of my life with Lucy, but as we arrived at my house, I recognized the place immediately. However, I couldn’t be happy about it, as it only highlighted the gaps in my memory.

Lucy unlocked the door, and Luther, my dog, greeted me with boundless energy. His excitement was a brief moment of joy. I knew him, but he started barking at Lucy and shying away from her immediately.

Dogs are known for their judgment of character, and Luther’s behavior felt like a warning sign I couldn’t ignore. “I’m so sorry,” I still apologized to Lucy after trying to calm Luther down.

Her attempt to brush it off only made me more uneasy.

Modern interior of living room | Source: Shutterstock

Inside the house, the familiarity clashed with a sense of foreignness. It was mine, yet it felt like I was stepping into another person’s life. Lucy’s presence also didn’t fit into the fragmented memories I was struggling to piece together.

“Do you have any photos of us?” I inquired, hoping for something to trigger my memory.

Lucy shook her head. “We don’t have any joint photos,” she said, shrugging, and explained her discomfort with photography. I thought it was strange, but I had no reason to doubt her.

As the evening progressed, Lucy’s unfamiliarity with the kitchen struck me as strange for someone who supposedly lived here. Her explanation that we had only recently moved in together did little to quell my doubts.

Towels | Source: Shutterstock

After dinner, the absence of her personal items and Lucy’s hesitant behavior while looking for a towel in our closet only added to my suspicions. I found an embroidered towel with the letter ‘E’ that sparked a vague sense of familiarity, but when I offered it, she refused to take it.

Her actions, coupled with the missing pieces in our home, painted a picture that didn’t quite add up. The inconsistencies in Lucy’s story, Luther’s unexpected reaction, the absence of photographs, and now the mysterious towel all pointed towards a reality that contradicted the life Lucy described.

As I stood there, lost in thought with the sound of the shower running in the background, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that crucial pieces of my life were missing.

I walked around our living room, taking in the familiar yet somehow foreign sights: the furniture, books, and trinkets. Despite recognizing everything, a profound sense of something missing lingered.

Man walking | Source: Shutterstock

Sitting on the couch, I closed my eyes, hoping for a spark of memory, only to find an engulfing darkness. The abrupt silence of the shower snapped me back to reality, reminding me of the facade I felt compelled to maintain for Lucy’s sake.

She emerged, commenting, “We’re out of shampoo. I’ll go buy some.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?” I questioned, puzzled.

“No, I need to go now,” she insisted, her tone soft yet determined.

It took her a long time to return, although the convenience store was nearby. I was in bed when she finally came back and moved quietly through the room. The shower ran again, and then, the unfamiliar scent of shampoo raised more questions than it answered.