CHAPTER 071

CHAPTER 071
«TRISTAN’S POINT OF VIEW»

«TWO YEARS LATER»

“Tristan, are you going to keep ignoring me, is that it?”

I finally glanced up from the files spread across the table before me and stared at the taxing voice, only to find one of my biggest dilemmas over the past two years of my life—Miss Jessica Stones, my so-called fiancée. I scoffed lightly at the thought.

“What’s that sound for?!” she demanded, irritation lacing her tone, and I stared at her blankly, placing my elbows on the glass table in my office, which was located at the highest part of the building. I interlocked my hands and rested my chin on the back of my palms.

“May I know the reason why you’re here, Miss Stones?” I asked coolly.

“When are you going to drop the formalities? We are getting married.”

“Perhaps when pigs fly.”

She scoffed at my answer. “That’s childlike, Tristan.”

“Then you should know better than wanting to be espoused to a man younger than you. Are you that desperate for a man?” I voiced calmly, the patience I had built over the years because of my illness, holding steady even now. My temper seemed to have vanished completely. The doctor was right when he said the accident might have changed my personality. Though I was clueless about the life I had lived before, everything about myself still felt unfamiliar… so unusual.

I watched as her expression shifted, irritation flickering across her face. “It’s been years, and you are still so rude to me, Tristan. It’s because of me your dad handed over the company to you.”

“Do I look like I care, Miss Stones?” I replied flatly. “You should know I never wanted to take over. It was supposed to be Dean’s job, but the kid is now gone, which leaves me here.” I leaned back slightly, my gaze unwavering. “I’ll do anything to escape you and my dad.”

And I meant it. I was getting the fuck out of here as soon as I had enough money, changing countries, maybe even continents. This place felt suffocating. Rotten.

“Ugh! I’ve been so tolerant with you because of my dad, but you are crossing too many lines, and I’m losing it. I’ve been nothing but supportive over the past two years,” she blabbered, her voice rising, but her words barely registered. They just passed over my head.

“Why are you here again, Miss Stones?”

"We are supposed to meet the wedding planner today. I arranged for us to meet in a Mexican restaurant."

I stood up and straightened my suit, brushing off the barely visible dust from it. "Let’s go."

"What?" she asked, stunned, and I rolled my eyes, wondering if I had somehow stuttered.

"Isn’t that why you’re here? Let’s go. I want to get this over with already."

Smiling brightly, she stood from her seat, her blue orbs glinting with sudden happiness that made my stomach churn. The way her dress clung to her body felt wrong; everything about this felt wrong.

"I’m glad you are finally accepting your fate. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’re mine, and you have always been. It doesn’t matter if you have your memories or not."

I rolled my eyes at her words but forced a small smile. I walked around the large table to her side and offered her my elbow. She slipped her thin hand around my arm, and together, we walked out of the office.

A year and a half.

That was how long I had been working in my dad’s company since he retired, which also meant I had to marry Miss Stones. Running a company was something I had never wanted. Living in Canada was even worse. But here I was, stuck in my hometown, doing things I never would have chosen, like taking this woman out to dinner and planning a stupid wedding that was never going to happen.

I had already delayed it for over a year, coming up with excuse after excuse. I refused to be tied down.

And these despicable people thought they had won. They hadn’t seen anything yet.

Oh no… I wasn’t going to leave Miss Stones at the altar—that would be too simple, too predictable. I had other plans.

~~

We arrived at the fancy Mexican restaurant and were taken to our table. The wedding planner was already waiting for us, seated with a polite smile. We took our seats, and while the two women dove straight into planning a wedding that was never going to happen, I simply tapped away on my phone, detached and uninterested, until a waiter finally approached our table.

"Bienvenida a casa de ella, ¿qué podemos traerte hoy?"

"¿Podemos tener el menú, por favor?" I replied automatically, the words slipping out of my mouth with ease.

And then it hit me. Realization washed over me just as Miss Stones seemed to notice. She paused mid-conversation with the planner and turned to me, amusement dancing in her blue eyes.

"I didn’t know you could speak Spanish, Tristan."

"I didn’t know?" It came out more like a question than a statement. I blinked, confused. I didn’t know I could understand… or speak Spanish. Was this something I had forgotten? Did I learn it at some point? Why?

"You didn’t know you could speak Spanish?" she repeated, her eyebrow arching higher than usual.

I shrugged slightly, unsettled.

"Aquí está el menú de hoy; volveré para saber si está listo para ordenar," the waiter said with a bright smile, handing each of us a menu.

"¡Gracias!" I responded, almost instinctively again, and she nodded before leaving.

Interesting…

I lowered my gaze to the menu, scanning through the different Mexican dishes. For some odd reason, they all felt familiar, too familiar. My eyes landed on a particular name, and they stayed there.

Discada. And suddenly—

“Discada is my favorite.”

I shut my eyes as the voice echoed in my head, deep, familiar, and intimate. Then I heard my own voice respond.

“Tell me more, doctor.”

Doctor?

What doctor? I didn’t know any doctors.

A sudden ache sparked in my head. I lifted my hand, pressing two fingers against my temple as my eyes remained shut, the voices continuing—

“A northern meaty dish, yes… It’s full of meat: sausage, chorizo, ground meat, ham, bacon, lard, jalapeño pepper, and onion. And it is all seasoned with thyme, celery, cumin, oregano, bay leaf, black pepper, black sauce, salt, rosemary, and a bit of dark beer. This dish is cooked on a plow disc previously cured over some wood. It is a traditional dish for family reunions. If you want, I can teach it to you, Kitten.”

“Oh, you have no idea how much I want… teach me, doctor.”

My eyes snapped open.

I was panting, hard and fast, my heart hammering violently against my chest. It started to hurt. My hand shot up, clutching at it.

"Are you okay?" Miss Stones’ voice cut through, sharp with concern.

I nodded quickly, forcing myself to breathe. I was fine. I just needed to calm down. Slowly, my breathing steadied, and the pain in my chest eased until everything felt… normal again.

"I'm fine."

But my mind wasn’t. What the fuck was that?