Chapter 73 Denial

Chapter 73 Denial
♤YASMIN♤

She looks different.

Her face is more mature, but her eyes are exactly the same fierce shade from my vision, and her hair is still just as tangled and stubbornly messy as it was when we were kids.

Nothing has truly changed about her.

An overwhelming wave of happiness courses through my veins.

Without thinking, I quickly dash toward the counter, my heart beating faster as I approach her, the excitement suddenly locking my throat.

I stop a few feet away, unsure of how to start the conversation.

I don’t know if she still remembers me after all this time or if the years have changed her feelings.

I just want to try my luck.

“Hello,” I mutter softly.

Ginger is in the middle of low-key scolding Caroline for neglecting a shipment of fresh flowers, but the moment my voice hits the air, she stops mid-sentence.

She snaps her head toward me, her eyes locking onto my face, and I see it instantly.

I see a flash of shock explode in her eyes. It is so obvious that she cannot hide it, even though she tries by forcing a friendly smile onto her lips.

“Hi,” she says, swallowing hard as she grips the edge of the counter.

I look down at her knuckles, and they are trembling violently, her skin turning pale as if she has just seen a ghost.

“How may I help you today, ma’am?”

A breathless chuckle escapes my lips.

“Ginger… it’s me. It’s me, Yasmin.”

The shop goes completely silent.

Ginger stands still, looking me dead in the face for a long, agonizing minute. Her gaze traces my face, my hair, and my expensive dress before her expression turns cold and blank.

“I’m sorry,” she says casually. “I don’t know you.”

My heart drops straight into my stomach, the happiness vanishing instantly.

“What? You don’t know me? Ginger, have you forgotten me?”

I step closer to her, and she backs away like I’m a threat.

“It’s me, Yasmin. I used to come here back when we were kids. I am your best friend. How can you say you’ve forgotten?”

“Young lady, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Ginger snaps, her voice rising slightly.

She avoids looking into my eyes, her gaze fixing on a stack of invoices on the desk.

“If you want to buy flowers, we have a lot of options over there. But I don’t know you, and I don’t have time for games.”

“But your name is Ginger, isn’t it?” I ask, a hot surge of anger and hurt blooming in my chest.

Why is she denying me? Why is she lying straight to my face? In my memories, we were happy. We were inseparable.

Why is she acting like I am some kind of dangerous enemy now?

“Yes, my name is Ginger. Everybody on this block knows that, so it’s not a secret,” she snaps, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“You say we were childhood friends, so how come I don’t know you?”

I blink rapidly, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.

Her red, glossy lips pull into a sneer as she continues speaking.

“There is no way you could call yourself my friend and I wouldn’t remember you. Maybe you are not that good of a friend in the first place, and I forgot you a long time ago.”

The words sting like a slap, but the panic in her trembling hands tells a completely different story.

She’s lying. She’s saying all those hurtful things to push me away.

“There is no way you just forgot me like that,” I push, stepping closer to the counter.

“You are lying to me, Ginger. Why are you doing this? What happened over the past few years?”

She pauses, her jaw clenching tightly as she glares at me.

“Young lady, please respect yourself and leave, or I will have to call security and have you escorted out by force. Flowers or pottery, pick one or leave my store right now.”

She turns on her heel and begins to walk toward the wooden door leading back to the inner office.

“Ginger!” I call out loudly, my voice cracking with emotion.

She freezes right in the doorway, her back turned to me, but I can see the tension in her rigid shoulders.

“I know you remember me,” I say, the tears finally stinging the corners of my eyes.

“What I just don’t understand is why you are behaving this way. I just wanted to let you know… you are the only person from my past that I can remember. I came here today because I wanted to reconnect with you. I thought you would be happy. But it seems like you don’t want to talk to me at all. I’ll just take my leave then.”

She stays still and quiet for a few seconds as if she is contemplating her choices. But at the end of it all, she takes a deep breath, steps through the door, and slams it shut behind her.

I stand alone in the center of the shop, feeling completely broken. The tears finally spill over my cheeks, hot and bitter.

I thought I had finally found the solution to my amnesia. I thought I had found someone from my past who could tell me who I am, someone who could shed light on the mystery of my life.

But even she doesn’t want to be associated with me anymore. She looked at me with fear and dread.

Did something happen between us that my memory isn’t showing me yet?

I smack my forehead.

God, you’re so stupid, Yasmin. Why can’t you just wait until the next session?

I turn slowly and walk out of the store dejectedly, the bell chiming a lonely goodbye over my head. I step back out onto the cold streets of Oak Street, the wind biting at my skin.

What the hell happened to me three years ago? Why did Aunt Sofia lie and tell me I was born in Spain when my memory clearly says I grew up here in America?

My chest aches with a deep, crushing loneliness, and more tears stream down my face.

And why does it seem like I have nothing and no one left in this world… except the Cross family?

Who the hell am I?!