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Seconds turned into minutes, then hours, then days, weeks, months, and now two months have passed. I bear a scar across my abdomen that occasionally itches. The man I live with refuses to disclose the cause, claiming that I'm not ready to know yet. What I do know is that I underwent significant surgery, experienced a brush with death, and woke up with no memory of my identity. However, I am certain that I may have lived in Spain for an extended period, evident in the Spanish accent that emerges whenever I speak English. I also find myself absentmindedly speaking in Spanish, and my English is often muddled. The man assured me that my memory loss is temporary after conducting brain checkups, and I will gradually regain my memories over time—whether in days, months, a year, or even long
