Eight Years Lost A Love Unclaimed (Ariella) novel Chapter 44

BOOK4 Chapter5 

The salty sea breeze whipped across my face, stinging my skin. Jessica’s laughter 

drifted down from the second floor. I looked up and saw Ethan Harris gently blowdrying Jessica’s hair, his careful and loving movements so familiar. Jessica 

was 

comfortably nestled in his arms, while I, the one who once belonged there, had 

become just an observer. 

I was frozen in place by that laughter. 

What if–what if I told him that I’m the one who’s supposed to be his fiancée? 

Ethan 

Harris is a man who takes responsibility seriously–what would he do then? 

I don’t want his pity; I just want Ethan Harris to love me. 

By the time I had composed myself and returned, it was already the middle of the 

night, but Grace was still awake. 

“Ethan figured it out on his own. Even though he’s lost his memory, he hasn’t 

forgotten his old instincts.” 

“I know.” 

Ethan has always been smart. It’s no surprise he noticed Detective Parker’s subtle 

attempts to get close to him. 

10:36 

Fight Years Lost: A Love Unclaimed 

BOOK4 Chapters 

“And his parents? Did Detective Parker tell him?” 

The air was silent for a few seconds. “He was told it was a car accident.” 

I nodded, not saying anything further. At least that explanation was something he 

could accept. 

“Ethan said that after the wedding, he’s coming back to Maplewoodwith us.” 

After a long pause, I finally spoke, “He’s established a life here, it’s only right for 

him 

to take his wife back to see his parents… It’s the right thing to do.” 

“Did Ethan ask you?” 

I thought about the man who had waited for me at the door. 

“He did, but I didn’t say anything. Don’t worry.” 

“Sienna, you know that’s not what we meant.” 

I clutched my stomach, where the pain was radiating, “But it’s what I mean.” 

From eighteen to twenty–eight, ten whole years–Ethan Harris had become a part 

of 

my life, entwined in my most precious memories like a vine. Now, as he’s being. 

torn 

away, it’s as if I’m being ripped apart, leaving me bloody and broken. 

By the third day here, my insomnia had returned. I lay awake until dawn, with only 

two days left before their wedding. Early in the morning, Jessica’s voice echoed 

through the courtyard as she organized the preparations. 

“Here, I want a floral arch with red roses. How long does the red carpet need to 

be? 

How big should the backdrop be? Ethan, if we don’t have a photo wall, you’re in 

big 

trouble!” 

Her voice carried on through the courtyard. I buried my head under the covers, 

but 

Jessica’s voice pierced straight through. 

We had a wedding planned too. The aisle was lined with white jasmine from his 

proposal, and the bouquet was handmade by Ethan–orange freesias, their scent 

sweet with a hint of freshness. The guests‘ chairs were adorned with orange 

ribbons, 

and we had revised the menu four times before finally settling on the dishes. Even