It was a small red box, I opened it, my heart pounding in my chest. It was a beautiful engagement ring, white gold laced with diamonds, sparkling under the morning sunlight. The sight of it left me breathless.
We had barely been dating for three months. It felt too soon for such a significant step. Questions swirled in my mind like a tornado. Was he planning to propose soon? Was he waiting for the perfect moment? Or perhaps he was simply keeping the ring for someone else? I cringed at the thought of it being for someone else. What if there was another woman and I was just a fling?
Caught between wanting to respect his privacy and the overwhelming curiosity, I felt torn. Confronting him about it seemed invasive, especially since he had left it hidden, not expecting me to find it.
After a moment of indecision, I carefully placed the ring back into the box, gently closing it. Part of me wanted to pretend I never found it, to preserve the simplicity of our relationship. But another part, a more honest and vulnerable side, wanted to know what was going on.
I decided to wait for time to reveal answers to my questions as I locked the box and set it back where I found it. I had made up my mind to develop a deliberate selective amnesia to what had just happened.
Selective amnesia happens when a person loses some of their memory from a certain period or event. For instance, forgetting some parts of an event in your life, but not all of it. It usually happens as a result of stress or trauma. If the person is no longer in a stressful or traumatic situation, treatment with supportive therapy and psychotherapy can help them recover lost memories.
Memories can also return suddenly or gradually, even without treatment. However, some individuals never recover their missing memories.
Weeks passed after I found the engagement ring, and with each outing, my anticipation grew. Every candlelit dinner, every romantic date, my heart would race with the hope that this might be the moment he’d choose to propose.
One evening, he took me to a charming, upscale restaurant. The ambiance was perfect – soft jazz music, dim lighting, and a view overlooking the city. As dessert arrived, I felt a familiar flutter of excitement. Maybe this was it.
When David reached into his pocket, I held my breath, my eyes widening with anticipation. I began blushing. I was grinning from ear to ear, trying my best to stay composed, already mentally preparing for the acceptance speech I would give after David proposed. But instead of producing a ring box, he pulled out his wallet, bringing out his card to pay the bills.
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I struggled to hide my disappointment but it weighed heavy on my heart. It seemed like every romantic gesture David made was overshadowed by my own unspoken expectations.
The next few weeks were a rollercoaster of emotions. I battled the urge to bring up the topic, fearing it might ruin what we had.
One morning, after a night spent at David’s, I found myself rushing through his front door, my heart pounding not just from the exertion but also from the panic of being late for work. The clock on the dashboard of David’s car mocked me; it was ticking closer to the start of my shift, and I had forgotten my phone at his house in my haste.
“We’re never going to make it out of this traffic, in time for the start of my shift” I said, staring at the huge traffic ahead of us, “I need to call Ugochi!” I exclaimed, realising at that moment that I had left my phone at home and David, ever the gentleman, offered me his phone to use without hesitation.
I dialled Ugochi’s number, my fingers moving swiftly over the touchscreen.
The name “Ice cream and cake” popped up on the screen. Confusion furrowed my brow; I couldn’t understand what was happening, so I aborted the call and punched in her number again and sure enough, the name “Ice cream and cake” popped up a second time. It was now obvious that David had saved Ugochi’s number on his phone as “Ice cream and cake”, but how he got her number and why it was stored under that name were the questions running through my mind.
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I glanced at David, his eyes fixed on the road, unaware of the turmoil inside me.
“David,” I began, my voice coming out as a whisper as he turned to face me. “Why is Ugochi’s number saved as ‘Ice cream and cake’ on your phone?” I asked
David’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He hesitated, searching for words that seemed to elude him. “I… I…uhm…I ” he stammered, his eyes darting between the road and me as I waited impatiently to hear his explanation.
Find out what happens next tomorrow in episode 21 #chcekcwithdoctoro
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