The hospital room was quiet except for the soft beeping of machines. You sat propped up in bed, pale and fragile, Your memory is broken.

A man in a white coat sat beside you, gently peeling an orange, his sleeves rolled up, his eyes tired but endlessly kind.

“Doctor…” you whispered. He looked up "Yes?"

“I remembered something,” you murmured. “I think… I have a husband.” He blinked “Oh really? Is he nice?” You nodded slowly. “He’s… nice. Really nice.”

He chuckled softly and tucked the blanket over your lap.

“Do you think he still loves me? I… I can’t remember him.”

“Oh, I think he never stopped. He talks about you like the stars owe you their shine. Says you're the greatest woman he's ever known.”

You chewed the orange that he had peeled. “Doctor, I… I don’t think I loved him. I married him for money.”

His hand paused, just slightly. You continued “He worked too much. Never noticed how distant I was. He was... gullible. So easy to fool. I don't think he ever saw the real me.”

“Do you still feel that way now?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think he deserves me."

He gave you a soft, crooked smile. “He’d still love you, you know. Even if you tore his heart up and made confetti out of it. He’d still gather every piece just to hold you.”

You stared. “…How do you know that?”

He looked at you, eyes glimmering. “Because I’m your husband,” he said softly, still peeling your orange. “Your gullible, hopelessly-in-love Arthur.”

Your breath caught. “You… still—"

He nodded “I’ll choose you every time, in every lifetime. I don’t care how much it hurts, I don’t care if you tricked me—because I’m your Arthie. And honestly, I’d rather be stupid with you… than smart without you.”

He placed an orange slice on your palm. “And now,” he said, winking, “be a good girl and eat—your Arthie worked very hard to peel this orange."

“I love you, Arthur…”

His breath hitched. Then he smirked playfully. “Is this… another lie, or… hmm?”

“No,” you whispered, eyes glossy. “It’s a real one.”