Chapter 125 125: Erased With No Mercy
Who were you to me?
The question reverberated inside Saint's head, crushing what little hope he had left.
That wasn't a question.
That was a verdict.
Baby had indirectly asked him to define himself. To tell him exactly what he'd destroyed.
He felt trapped in the worst kind of punishment.
He can't be angry because technically, he deserves this.
He couldn't explain because Baby doesn't remember shit.
He can't move on because Baby is right there.
He was stuck in a loop.
"I..." Saint started, but his words died in his throat, his eyes casting down to hide the sharp agony in them.
'How do I fix something… that technically never existed?' he asked himself.
This was mental torture.
Baby blinked patiently, watching the man in front of him search for words to explain himself.
"He was a teammate... not close, but part of the team," Cam spoke up, his eyes daring Saint to say otherwise.
"Oh... it's nice to see you again, then. I'm really sorry I couldn't remember you. He was quite upset when he realised I didn't know who he was a year ago..." Baby pointed at Cam.
"I got to know everyone by reintroduction, and if there's something particular you want me to know about you, you can tell me," Baby said smoothly, giving Saint an encouraging smile.
Saint didn't reply... couldn't.
"Saint, right?" Baby asked, smiling gently.
Saint balled his fists beside him.
'He doesn't even remember my name...'
"Yes, Saint," he replied, holding Baby's calm gaze for a few seconds before he looked away.
Cam was brutal.
He had made sure to give him the most irrelevant role in Baby's past life... a distant teammate.
"I'm really sorry for my friend. He's a bit emotional. I can take you to the hospital—"
"He's fine. He loves the pain... trust me," Cam placed a hand on Baby's shoulder, gently pulling him away from Saint.
Saint slowly nodded. "He's right... I'm fine. I don't want to waste any more of your time," he said calmly.
Saint was barely holding up.
He wanted to fall on his knees and shake Baby's legs until he remembered everything.
How?
How could he just... forget?
Everything?
The good times.
The bad times.
The shadows...
Everything was just... gone.
Forever.
This was mental death.
Saint knew he was never going to be the same the moment he turned his back on Baby.
This was a burden that would weigh down on his heart and mind for as long as he lived.
Being the only one with those memories was a punishment, especially when he thought back to how he ruined them in the end.
"Alright, then. Goodbye," Baby nodded at Saint and walked away.
"Baby," Saint couldn't stop himself from grabbing Baby's wrist.
"Hands off, bastard," Cam slapped Saint's hand away before Baby could even turn.
Baby frowned slightly, touching his wrist. "You sure you're good?" he asked Saint.
Saint took a shuddering breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry," he murmured.
"Let's go," Cam said and locked his hand around Baby's wrist, leading him away and out of the restaurant.
They headed right for Baby's car, and the moment they got in, Baby's hands began to tremble.
He watched his hands trembling for a second before he forcefully gripped the steering wheel.
Cam sat quietly beside Baby, watching his friend spiral with a deep frown etched on his face.
"Fuck!" Baby's horn blared as he punched the steering wheel, clenching his jaw tightly.
"Hey, it's okay..." Cam laced his fingers with Baby's. "You're doing just fine," he murmured.
"He dared to touch me," Baby seethed, staring at the wrist Saint had touched.
"You did great, Baby. Approaching you was inevitable, but you served him the blank card... I'm sure he'll stay away. He'll be a fool not to," Cam reasoned.
"He better stay away. I can't promise calmness next time... fucking retarded," Baby snorted in disbelief.
What was Saint thinking?
That he'd bounce into his arms the moment they met?
Baby never lost his memories...
He remembers everything… just chose to erase Saint.
That was revenge wrapped in silence. Cold. Surgical. Personal.
Baby wasn't broken anymore.
Not emotional.
Not reactive.
He was now in controlled pain.
Not free of pain... but in control of it.
He nearly lost his life a year ago because he let his pain rule over him.
Now, he had mastered it, and alongside it, mastered the act of appearing painless.
Every smile? Fake.
Every "Who are you?"? Intentional.
Every calm reaction? A blade.
He's not trying to hurt Saint loudly.
He's trying to make Saint feel what he felt: confusion, abandonment, helplessness, disbelief.
This was his greatest revenge, and if Saint didn't steer clear from him, he would make sure he hurt him so badly that Saint might consider ending his life as an alternative to the pain.
"Did you hit him hard enough?" Baby asked, starting his car.
Cam smirked. "Yep, he won't see clear for days."
"Good," Baby gritted his teeth and drove away.
Saint didn't deserve access to him anymore. He lost it the moment he chose Kora.
How dare he walk up to him?!
Saint entered his condo and marched straight to his bar.
He picked up an alcoholic wine and a glass.
He opened the wine and tilted it over the glass.
"Why bother?" he muttered and took the wine to his mouth, gulping the content in one go.
"Shit," he hissed, dropping the bottle onto the counter with a clink.
The alcohol burned his chest, yet it was nothing compared to the pain he felt in there.
His face was still caked with blood, but he didn't bother washing it off.
Looks weren't his priority at the moment.
He pulled his phone out and went to his locked conversations.
He only had one contact there: Baby.
He tapped it and scrolled down, staring at every message he'd sent for the complete 365 days... all with no response.
Finally, he found it and paused.
\[I'm sorry, Baby. Every moment was real with you, but... I want a normal life… and I can't have that with you. I'll always love you, but let's end this.\]
He read it over and over and over again until his vision blurred.
"Fuck," he placed the phone down on the counter and picked up the drink, finishing what was left in the bottle.
His heart was hammering loudly, his pulse racing.
"I made the right choice... I did the right thing... then why does it fucking hurt!" he screamed and threw the bottle to the floor, breaking it and scattering glass all over the place.
A knock paused his emotional stampede.
He walked around the broken shards and went to his door.
Without caring how he looked to whoever was behind it, he pulled it open.
"What?" he asked before he even saw the person's face.
"Your mother was right," a man said in a calm tone. "Something's not right with you."