Reminiscence Adonis Novels & Stories

It was painful to know his parents were murdered. Meanwhile, Adonis walked toward his office and ordered one of his maids to bring coffee for him. As he was leaving the next day for some work over the seas, he was doing his pre-arrangements. He was entirely embedded in his work, and he heard a knock over his office door. He looked up in his file to watch a young maid standing over the door, holding a tray of coffee in her hand.

“But...But Caitrona Balboa, I don't like you,” He walks away breaking Caitrona's heart into million tiny pieces. _ Adonis stands at his office in his penthouse as he looks at the full moon from the transparent glass window and remembers how she calls his name. “Adonnie...” “Whenever I look at the moon, I think of you, I miss you, do you miss me too? Caitlyn” “Caitlyn...” tears trips from his eyes as he recalls the woman he was once engaged to. “Adonnie, I am scared, I am scared that if I die you will be upset,”

"We'll be there. Count us in." Adonis strolled towards us and stood beside Fred, who had quickly changed the subject. Adonis's smile radiated genuine warmth and kindness. It was the kind of smile that put you at ease, but still, that didn't change the fact that he was a stranger. "Hey, Iris. It's great to see you. The doctors are hopeful that you'll start having flashes of memories soon." I nodded, then an awkward silence fell between us, and Adonis turned to Justin. "Shouldn't you be in med school?"

"He did. All except the ones involving his father. Memory loss is a symptom of hydrocephalus in adults. However, I do not understand why his is selective, but I can tell you this: —Adonis's condition is rapidly deteriorating. Fast."

The more I try to remember, the more I forget,and the aches in my head got even worse every time I try. I could overhear Aiden telling the doctor, I can't remember anything, I wasn't much interested in their conversation, it was obvious I lost my memory,I don't even know who I am. "What is his name Aiden?" I asked. "He doesn't have a name yet,we wanted you to give him one" he said, walking towards me as the doctor and nurse took their leave. "He is so handsome," I said. "What about me mama?" Raymond asked. "Oh Ray,you are also handsome" I chuckled.

Then he looked at his Dad “D-dad.” “Thank God you remember me.” “Kuya. What about me?” This time it was Gravity “Gravity.” He called “W-What happened to me? why is that, why do I remember so little. I can't remember everything?” I cried, he can’t remember. He can only remember little “Kuya do you remember her?” Gravity pointed me to his brother “Answer me!” “Don’t shout Grav..” I said “I-I don't I’m sorry... who are you?” He looked at me

Antoine watched Camille, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Camille’s emotions surged, and tears began to roll down her cheeks, salty and bittersweet. How long had it been since she last remembered the scent of her mother’s lily of the valley? How long had it been since she felt the vibrant essence of fragrance, the subtle bond between scent and memory? 'Muse' didn’t just analyze the scent—it awakened a corner of her mind she thought lost forever. It allowed her to 'see' images again, to 'hear' sounds, and to feel the delicate stirrings of emotions she believed had disappeared for good.

“And you know this how?” Adrian doesn’t hesitate. “Because I know my wife.” Marcus whispers beside me. “That’s either extremely romantic or extremely dangerous testimony.” The detective crosses his arms. “Mr. Reyes, your wife has memory loss from the crash.” Adrian nods once. “Yes.” “So how can you be certain?” Adrian’s eyes flicker briefly toward me. And something warm settles in my chest despite the chaos around us. “Because love doesn’t disappear with memory.” The pier falls quiet. Even the wind seems to pause.

"Misunderstanding? Please. Girls like her, I've seen a million of them. They sneak into a man's bed and then try to use it to threaten the wife. That's her whole game." Audrey's carefully styled hair was a wreck now, her curls pulled loose and messy. She looked out at the crowd, their smirks and whispers cutting into her like knives. Her eyes darted nervously. "I swear, it wasn't me…" Michael just stood to the side, calm as ever. His gaze kept flickering, and I felt it brush past where I was standing. Then his assistant turned on the big screen. The footage rolled. There he was—the bald, beer-bellied creep I'd seen that night, tugging up his pants as he stumbled out of Room 800. Hours later,