After waking up from a car accident, I realize that I've lost some of my memories.

My wife, Samantha Ross, embraces me immediately and says in a choked-up tone, "The doctor said that you've hurt your manhood in the accident. You… might not be able to perform in the bedroom anymore."

My father-in-law, Edmund Ross, sighs heavily as well. He tells me that even if I can't get Samantha pregnant anymore, I will always be the only son-in-law who's married into the Ross family.

Everyone compliments me on marrying into a wonderful family. After all, Samantha refuses to abandon me, and Edmund completely understands my situation.

But I know for a fact that my kidneys aren't busted at all. Also, I already had a son with Samantha a long time ago.

The thing is, where on earth is that child now?

Samantha Ross' hands trembled as she held me tightly in her arms.

"Norman," she choked out. "The doctor said that the accident not only left your left kidney severely contused and necrotic, but also caused serious damage to your right kidney function. To save your life, we have to remove your left kidney as soon as possible. I’ve scheduled the nephrectomy for you in a month."

The question that had been weighing on me slipped out despite myself. "Honey, did we ever have a son?"

Samantha let out a soft sigh. "Honey, I know how much it devastates you not to be able to have children anymore. You only have one kidney left, and your body is completely broken. You can’t bear any exertion at all, let alone intimate relations. For the rest of your life... you’ll never be able to have children again."

She paused before continuing, "If you really want a child, we can adopt one in the future."

My father-in-law, Edmund Ross, stood nearby with tears streaming down his face. "That's right, Norman. As long as you are healthy, that is all I ask for. Even if the Ross family line ends, you will always be my most important son-in-law."

However, their words stirred no comfort in me at all.

Every instinct I had screamed that they were lying. The fragments of memory left behind felt incomplete, as though someone had deliberately erased the most important parts. A dull ache along my waist lingered. It was an old strain that felt like the kind of soreness left from holding a child for long periods.

What were they trying so desperately to hide from me?

I let them guide me home like a puppet on strings. Only after I sat on the familiar bed did my awareness slowly return. The empty nightstand beside it unsettled me. I was convinced it ought to have been filled with little things, like a baby's rattle used to soothe a child.

When Samantha noticed my gaze fixed on the nightstand, she asked intently, "Norman, did you remember something?"

"No," I replied after a moment. "My memories are just a bit scrambled. I want to be alone for a while."

She pursed her lips and studied me for a moment. The scrutiny made cold sweat bead down my back. At last, she said, "Alright. If you feel unwell, tell me immediately. I'll be right outside. Get some rest."

When the door closed, I released a breath without realizing it. It was strange. I felt an instinctive resistance toward her, yet the memories I retained told me that when we were dating, and even during the first half year of our marriage, we had been deeply in love.

That meant something must have happened in the year between those six months and the car accident.

Perhaps the child I vaguely remembered had been born during that time. But where was the child now?

I examined the room carefully. It was simply too spotless. There was not a single trace of anything related to a child. It felt deliberate.

If what they said was true, that we had always wanted a child but could never conceive, then why was there not a single item related to fertility or pregnancy preparation?

As I lost myself in thought, my hand slipped unconsciously into the narrow gap between the mattress and the bed frame. It was a habit I had developed whenever I felt overwhelmed.

This time, my fingertips brushed against something hard and cold. I pulled it out and stared at it in disbelief. It was a small alloy wheel from a toy car.

It was undeniable that a child had once been part of this home.

Samantha and Edmund were definitely hiding something from me.

Over the next few days, I clearly sensed that Samantha and Edmund were watching me.

I quietly accepted every arrangement they made for me and acted as though I trusted their words without question. In the middle of the night, I would sometimes pretend to wake from nightmares, drenched in sweat, tearfully calling out for the imaginary son.

I played the part of a defeated man who could not accept his own loss of manhood.

It seemed to ease their vigilance.

That afternoon, Edmund took me for fresh air in the residential garden as usual. Across the street from the park, a street vendor happened to be calling out, selling hot pretzels.

"Oh, the pretzel vendor is here," Edmund said cheerfully. "Sam mentioned this morning that she was craving one. I was planning to pick some up at the market after work, but this is perfect timing. Norman, stay here and wait for me. You're not fully recovered yet, so don't wander off."

I gave a dull nod and stared after him as he walked off. With the house momentarily empty of supervision, I finally had a window to act.

My parents passed away long ago. The only brother I trusted lived in another city. Even my phone wasn't mine anymore. Samantha had taken it, insisting I needed to rest. I had no way to call anyone.

Just then, an elderly woman pedaling an old cargo tricycle appeared. I recognized her. She made a living collecting recyclables around the neighborhood.

"Haven't seen you for a while," she said. "Why didn't you bring Lionel out today?"

"Lionel…" I repeated the name under my breath, clenching my hands instinctively. "I was in a car accident and can't remember much. Could you tell me about him?"

Maya Faraday seemed to notice something and grew cautious. Just as she was about to speak, a figure rushed over like a gust of wind.

Edmund appeared suddenly, glaring at her. "Maya, what nonsense are you spouting again? I warned you before. Stay away from Norman. If you come here spreading lies again, I will call the police immediately."

Startled by his shout, Maya gave me a conflicted look before pedaling away as fast as she could.

"Norman, don't worry," Edmund said, patting my shoulder.

His voice was tense with both fear and disgust. "That woman has lost her mind. After her son died, her daughter-in-law fled with her grandson, Lionel. Ever since, she's been erratic, latching onto men and insisting they're her son. Don't trust her for a second."

Was that really the truth? Yet, the name "Lionel" stirred a strange sense of familiarity within me.

As I was about to fall asleep that night, Samantha embraced me from behind. Our skin touched, and that intense discomfort rose again without warning.

"I heard from Dad that Maya, the recycler, tried to talk to you today," she said.

I said nothing, and she went on as though my silence didn't matter. "When we used to come home from work together, we would often see Lionel's mother downstairs with him, and you always went to play with the boy.

"I even told you then that if you loved kids so much, we should have one of our own instead of always envying other people's."

A sudden dampness pressed against my back. Samantha's voice shook with restrained sobs. "Norman, are you still grieving over not being able to have children? I asked the doctor. He said you're experiencing post-traumatic stress.

"Your mind is fabricating false memories, which is why you keep believing you once had a child. Please don't bottle it all up. Hit me, yell at me—do whatever you need, just let it out. I can't lose you again."

Behind me, her muffled cries cut through the quiet.

Could my memories really be that unreliable? My mind spun in confusion as fragments of images flickered across my thoughts.

A woman of my age held a baby boy downstairs, though her face remained blurred in my vision.

I spoke to her briefly and played with the child for a moment.

Perhaps, just as Samantha had said, Lionel wasn't my child after all.

The next morning, Samantha woke me. With a hesitant look, she placed a cardboard box in my hands. These are the supplements we bought when we were trying to conceive, along with the toys we never got to give away.

"While you were in the hospital, I packed everything up. I didn't want you to come back and be reminded of them and feel sad. Now, I'm leaving them for you to deal with."

With that, she left the bedroom, leaving me alone with the sealed box. My hands trembled as I peeled back the tape.

Within the box were three parenting guides, a remote-controlled car, a toy pistol, and several boxes of prenatal vitamins. I knew each item well, particularly the books, frayed at the corners from repeated reading. One of the car's wheels was missing.

I pulled out the wheel I had found in the gap between the mattress and the bed frame and compared it to the others. It matched perfectly. The child that had lived in the depths of my mind had been entirely imagined.

A sudden knock on the door startled me. I wiped my face, composed myself, and opened it.

Outside, Samantha smiled gently. "Norman, my cousins are here to see you. Do you want to come out and meet them?"

She grabbed my wrist and led me into the living room. Besides Edmund, two young men were there.

The older cousin, Shawn Bolton, greeted me eagerly. "Norman, you're finally out of the hospital. When I heard about your accident, I was so worried. Thankfully, the driver who caused it has been caught."

For some reason, he felt familiar and comforting.

"Norman, why haven't you asked me to play basketball lately?"

Fragments of memory drifted to the surface, and I saw brief moments of us playing together.

Since I didn't respond, his expression soured, and he let out a small pout. "Sam, why is Norman ignoring me?"

Samantha stepped forward, looping her arm through his. "Norman lost some of his memory in the accident, and he's not fully recovered. Don't push him right now."

He looked disappointed, but he smiled at me anyway. "Norman, don't worry. You'll remember eventually."

"Alright, everyone, take a seat. Let's talk while we sit," Edmund said, ushering everyone to their seats.

I wandered toward the corner of the couch in a daze. The toy car wheel in my hand slipped as I brushed against the cushion, bouncing a few times before landing at the feet of Gerald Bolton, the younger cousin.

Gerald picked it up, examining it between his fingers for a few seconds. Then, he handed it back. "Norman, this is yours."

A knowing smile played across his face. I instinctively hesitated to take it, but Samantha stepped in, placing it gently back in my hand and guiding me to sit on the couch.

As soon as we settled, she asked softly, "Norman, did you remember something?"