As an ordinary genius

Ethan sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV screen, but his focus had long since shifted inward. The news droned on, but it was drowned out by the memories resurfacing in his mind, piecing together like a puzzle.

He closed his eyes, leaning back, and let the fragments come to him.

The first memory hit like a wave. It was at a late-night university party, the music thumping in the background as he stood awkwardly with a drink in hand. Felicity's bright blue eyes stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and surprise.

"I like you, Felicity," he had blurted out, his voice shaky.

Her reply had been gentle but firm. "Ethan, I... I don't think we should do this. You're a great guy, but I don't feel the same way."

The memory stung even now, but it was quickly followed by another. The second confession, during a smaller gathering, and again, the rejection.

But then, the kiss.

It had been unexpected, even to him. They were alone on a balcony, the city lights twinkling below. He had been drunk—too drunk to think clearly—and before he knew it, their lips had met.

This time, Felicity hadn't pulled away.

Ethan's eyes shot open, his heart racing. "She didn't reject the kiss," he whispered to himself, the realization hitting him harder than any memory so far.

He tried to remember what happened after, but his mind went blank. There were snippets of Felicity's face, her unreadable expression, but nothing concrete.

Ethan's hands clenched into fists. "Why can't I remember? What did I do?"

But before he could dwell on it further, another memory surged to the surface—one that felt far more distant.

It was a fleeting moment, barely more than a whisper in his mind. A conversation with the orphanage dean when he was younger.

"Your father's last name... was Queen," the dean had said softly.

Ethan felt his breath catch in his throat. He had long buried that memory, dismissing it as irrelevant. He had never known his parents, and the name "Queen" meant nothing to him at the time.

But now, in the wake of everything—the accident, the lightning, the newfound clarity in his mind—it felt like a piece of a larger puzzle he wasn't ready to solve.

"No," Ethan muttered, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. It's just a name."

Ethan tried to push the thoughts aside, but they lingered like shadows, refusing to fade. He paced the living room, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions.

Confessions. Memories. A name he had ignored for years.

Ethan sighed and sank back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what was happening to him, but one thing was certain—his life had changed, and there was no going back.