Chapter 1015
“Mr. Stewart, I’m exhausted. Could you please just leave?” Mavis gave Uriah a weary stare, utterly unimpressed by his miserable, self-pitying look.
She didn’t bother with niceties-she just wanted him gone.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Uriah replied, settling more firmly into his seat. “I’ll leave when you remember me p>
He’d told himself he could wait, that he’d be patient while her memory slowly returned. But now that Mavis had woken up and somehow remembered everyone but him, his composure had snapped. He couldn’t wrap his head around it: how was it possible for her to recall every face, every detail—except his? Sure, he knew he’d upset her in the past, but did that really justify her forgetting him altogether?
Glaring at her as if by sheer force of will he could drag some memory from her, Uriah’s frustration simmered in the room.
Mavis suppressed another sigh, out of patience herself. “You can stare all you want —it’s not going to bring anything back p>
She shook her head a little and added, “Let’s be honest—I already know who you are now, and you’ve filled me in on what we used to be. Does it really matter if I remember it on my own? Right now, you’re seriously interrupting my rest p>
“If you’re really my mentor, shouldn’t you act like one and let me get some sleep? Hovering over me like this is making it impossible to relax p>
She glared at him. She hadn’t imagined Uriah would be this stubborn when she decided to feign amnesia—truthfully, it was turning into more trouble than she’d bargained for. If she’d known, she would’ve insisted Portia stay the night; at least then she’d have an ally to help shoo Uriah away. But now it was just her—and his insistence on lingering made her skin crawl.
“I’m
your mentor-there’s no reason for you to be this uneasy around me,” Uriah replied coldly. Whether she’d truly forgotten him or was just faking it, he couldn’t tell. But watching her look at him like a stranger-no warmth, ho flicker of recognition-was suffocating. It actually hurt more than when she’d been unconscious. At least then, she’d been unresponsive to all. Now she recognized everyone but him-as if the one person who should have mattered most was invisible.
“Fine-do whatever you want!” Mavis shot back, losing her patience at last. She turned over, pulled the covers tightly around her shoulders, and tried to force herself to sleep.
For a moment, Uriah said nothing. Then, instead of leaving, he quietly crossed the room, switched off the light slipped off his jacket, and stretched out on the tiny armchair set in the corner for visitors.
Hearing the low rustle, Mavis winced. She’d half-expected he’d
eventually relent and leave, but
in if he wanted
no he was contorted in a
to spend the
chair, let him. The bed was spacious and warm, and she drifted off easily.
Mavis slept deeply and well. Uriah did not. The chair was child-sized, barely big enough for him to curl up. By dawn, every muscle in his back and shoulders ached.
When Portia breezed in with a box of fresh pastries the next morning, she nearly dropped it in shock at the sight of Uriah sprawled in the armchair.
“What on earth-Uriah? What are you doing here?” she blurted out, her voice climbing in pitch. “Wait, don’t tell me you slept here all night? Why p>
Without waiting for a reply, Portia hurried over to the bed, leaning in toward Mavis. “Mavis, what happened? Why is he camped out in here at this hour p>
“He never left,” Mavis grumbled, her face buried in the pillow. “He said he wouldn’t go until I remembered who he was p>
Portia stared at Uriah as if he’d grown horns. “Uriah, have you lost your mind p>