Chapter 286 The Time He Forgot
Caroline's smile seemed to have an effect on Alexander, who was now crouching on the ground, and uncontrollably raised his hand, wanting to touch her face in the scene.
The next second, that image shattered like glass.
Alexander froze instantly.
When did this happen?
He had never seen Caroline knit a sweater, nor did he know she could.
In his memory, Caroline's hands only played piano, and tended to flowers and plants. Later she learned to cook, and even learned to hold a gun under his pressure.
But the scene that just flashed by was painfully clear. He could see how her fingers held the knitting needles, and could even recall the tiny arc of the yarn looping over the needle tip.
His strength drained away all at once, and he sat straight down on the floor.
Then another scene swept past.
Caroline stood by the wardrobe, holding that sweater in her hand. She held it up to the light for a careful look, then folded it neatly and put it in a paper bag.
The scene shattered again.
Alexander jerked his head up, his breathing becoming rapid and ragged.
Who was that sweater knitted for?
Wait. The sweater in the scene, wasn't it the same one Irene had mended before?
Irene had claimed not to know who had left it behind, and assumed it might be Felix's, or someone else's.
But it absolutely couldn't be Felix's.
Alexander was suddenly certain of this.
Felix had only stayed here for a week. During that time, Caroline was busy saving him, and later even hospitalized because of him, she couldn't possibly have had time to knit this sweater.
Besides, Felix had a slimmer build.
The color, style, and size of the sweater... just didn't seem like something Felix would wear. Instead, it seemed more like...
Alexander suddenly stood up, stumbling out of the room, then staggered back to the room Irene had prepared for him.
On the low cabinet, that folded dark gray sweater laid there quietly.
He walked over and reached out to pick up the sweater.
His hands were shaking. He shook the sweater open.
The fabric was soft, the stitches fine and even, the neckline finished neatly and cleanly.
The more Alexander looked, the more he felt this was something that belonged to him.
He had no memory to prove this, but his intuition held tight, like it wouldn't let go no matter what.
He carefully turned the sweater inside out, his eyes falling on the inner hem.
There, embroidered small, was his name.
Alexander's tears fell all at once.
This was a sweater knitted for him!
She had put it away, and then what? Did she give it to him?
Alexander desperately tried to remember, like he'd turned over every corner of his mind, but couldn't grasp anything.
He couldn't remember any of it...
He suddenly rushed to the living room, spinning around to survey his surroundings, as if searching for some exit that could pull him back.
The next second, he felt the walls peeling away like old paint in large patches.
But what was revealed wasn't brick or cement, but bright, freshly painted white walls.
Alexander spun around and found the house had brightened too.
It wasn't the lights—it was daylight.
The scene outside the window had somehow jumped from early autumn to spring. Flowers in the yard bloomed everywhere, almost covering the entire small courtyard.
That lemon tree had sprouted new leaves too. When the wind passed, the leaves swayed gently.
He looked back inside. The originally dim and faded furniture in the living room had suddenly become bright. The style was still old-fashioned, even the sofa was wooden, but it looked like it had just been freshly painted. The air even held a faint lingering smell of paint.
Alexander turned his head blankly toward the kitchen.
A girl in a cotton dress walked out from there—it was Caroline.
Her slightly wavy hair hung over her shoulders, her face still carrying baby fat that hadn't faded. She was holding a plate of fresh strawberries, smiling at Alexander.
"You're back? Was it hot going up the mountain today?"
Alexander instinctively wanted to answer, but found his throat blocked by something.
The next second, a voice sounded from behind him.
"Not hot. I left early, didn't get caught by the sun."
Alexander spun around sharply.
He saw his younger self standing behind him, wearing a white shirt, carrying a basket full of wild berries, walking toward Caroline with a smile.
Caroline took out a handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped the young Alexander's forehead.
"You say it wasn't hot. But if it wasn't hot, why is your forehead covered in sweat?"
"Really wasn't hot." The young Alexander set the basket on the ground. "Look, are these what you wanted?"
"Oh my, you brought back so many." Caroline crouched down excitedly to look through the wild berries. "We can make so much this year."
"I'll go get the glass jars." The young Alexander turned and went to the yard, soon returning with two round jars.
The two of them carried the jars to the bathroom together to wash them carefully.
The young Alexander kept leaning close to Caroline's ear to whisper a few words. Alexander couldn't hear the content, but he could see clearly—they were both smiling.
That kind of smile was intimate, like two young lovers sharing secrets that belonged only to them.
Alexander's chest suddenly felt a dull pain, his throat heated up, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
The next second, the colors around him drained away rapidly, and the world returned to that dim, deathly silent state.
Only then did Alexander realize he had somehow ended up kneeling on the ground.
He covered his chest, slowly raised his head, and looked around—Caroline was nowhere to be seen.
A premonition took shape inside him.
He had forgotten something very important.
He was also almost certain that he had actually lived with Caroline in this small courtyard. That was when they were still young, still didn't know where the world would take them.
This premonition grew stronger and stronger. That subtle trembling pressed against his heart, making him panic and feel cold.
He rushed back to the room and grabbed his phone to call Mark.
Mark had been waiting for his news but didn't dare call rashly, afraid of interrupting him.
The phone was answered almost immediately.
"Sir, where are you? Why haven't you come back yet?"
"I'm at Caroline's small courtyard." Alexander's voice was terribly hoarse. "Mark, help me look into things between Caroline and me when we were young. You have to hurry!"
Mark on the other end was clearly stunned.
"Sir? Why do you want to look into this... Things between you and Mrs. Hamilton when you were young—shouldn't you know them best?"
Back then, even Liam hadn't joined Alexander yet. Even if Mark wanted to investigate, he wouldn't know where to start.
Alexander repeated in a low voice, as if speaking to himself, "Go investigate... please. I think I've forgotten a very important period of time..."