Chapter 2
My parents died?
My brain went blank.
All the strength drained out of my body. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the cold wall.
Tears poured down my face. Not because I remembered. But the fact of losing them hit me like a truck. I couldn't handle the emptiness and hopelessness.
My parents... They left me right when I'd stopped being their little girl?
How did I survive those ten years?
"As for Sophie." Michael turned to look at my broken face. No emotion. Just cruel calm. "You two had a falling out a few years back. Not sure why. You haven't talked since."
A falling out?
Me and Sophie? My best friend? My ride or die?
The hits kept coming. I could barely breathe.
Parents dead. Best friend gone.
The future eighteen-year-old me dreamed of? It was ruins.
No parents. No best friend.
And what did I get instead?
This freezing cold house. The husband who couldn't stand me. And divorce papers?
I looked up at this stranger I was supposedly married to, tears blurring my vision.
Eighteen-year-old Emily's world had shattered into nothing.
And all I had to show for it was a divorce agreement.
Michael led me to a cold guest room, his voice flat. "You stay here."
Separate rooms.
Guess the marriage was already dead.
He turned and walked away. He didn't look back. It was like he was dumping trash.
The door closed, shutting out the world and my last bit of fake bravery.
I collapsed on the carpet. Back against the door. The sadness and loneliness crashed over me like waves.
My parents were gone. Sophie left me.
The world I built at eighteen was a complete disaster.
I refused to give up.
I crawled up and started searching the room like a crazy person.
Big room. Gray and white. It was cold and had no personality.
Expensive skincare on the vanity. Designer clothes with tags still on in the closet.
All of it screamed "rich wife." None of it screamed me.
I searched like a thief, desperate for any clue about those ten years. About how I ended up like this.
Then I saw it. A picture frame on the nightstand, facedown.
I flipped it over with shaking hands.
It was a photo of me and Michael.
But it wasn't our wedding photo.
A beach. Bright sun. Me in a colorful dress, laughing without a care in the world, practically hanging off Michael.
And he was smiling too. A real smile. Warm eyes. Looking at me with something I couldn't even imagine... Affection?
The photo stabbed into me like poison.
So we did have moments like that?
Twenty-eight-year-old Emily had really been looked at that way?
Then what happened? What broke something so good into what I saw now?
What turned those warm eyes into ice?
The contrast made my head spin.
I put the frame down and kept searching.
Finally, in the blocked list of my phone contacts, I found a name.
Sophie.
My heart squeezed.
I had blocked my best friend?
Fingers shaking, I unblocked her.
No warm-up. I called.
Thank God she hadn't blocked me.
It rang once. Twice. Then someone picked up.
Silence. Then my own heartbeat.
"Sophie, is that you?" I asked.
A woman's voice came through. Familiar, but older and cautious. "Emily?"
Two words, and I almost started crying again.
It was Sophie. Really her.
"Sophie..." My voice broke. "I don't know how to explain this, but I think I lost my memory."
"What?" Sophie's voice was full of shock and disbelief. "Emily, what game are you playing now? We're done. You said it yourself—never speak to each other again!"
"I'm not lying. I swear!" My voice shook with desperation.
I was almost screaming. "I'm stuck at eighteen. The summer after we graduated high school. I don't remember how I got here, how I married Michael, and why I blocked you. I don't remember anything, Sophie!"
I cried and rambled. The car accident. The amnesia. The divorce papers. My parents. Everything came out in a messy flood.
Long silence on the other end. Then all I heard was breathing.
Then Sophie spoke again, in a careful and testing tone. "You're serious? You really only remember things from before you turned eighteen?"
"Yes! I swear!"
She was my only lifeline.
"Sophie, you're all I have now. Please. Can we meet? Tell me what happened. How did I become this? How did we become this?" I asked in despair.
Another silence. Then I heard her take a breath.
"Okay." Her voice had a tiny shake and a little bit of courage. "Tomorrow. Three o'clock. The old place. The coffee shop across from the high school. I'll be there."
I hung up and slid down the wall, clutching my phone like it was the only thing keeping me alive.
Tears blurred my vision. But a tiny light flickered in my chest.
Sophie agreed to see me.
No matter why we fell apart and what happened in those ten years, I would know the truth.
Michael. Twenty-eight-year-old Emily. The broken marriage.
Emily, Emily. What happened to you?
This all felt like karma, perfectly aimed.
*****
Three o'clock the next day. I was at the coffee shop thirty minutes early.
Outside, the school gate looked the same. Kids in blue and white uniforms laughed and pushed each other. It felt like nothing had changed.
But the woman reflected in the window—expensive clothes, panicked eyes—was a stranger.
My fingers were cold. I stirred my latte without drinking it.
Every second felt like forever.
I wanted to see Sophie. I was terrified of what she'd tell me.
The wind chimes on the door jingled.
I looked up.
A woman walked in. Sharp blazer and pencil skirt. Confident.
She'd changed a lot. Her long hair was now a sleek bob. Makeup perfect. No more girlish softness—just mature edges.
But I recognized her instantly.
Sophie.
Her eyes scanned the café and landed on me.
So many emotions in that look. Concern, judgment, old resentment, and something that looked like my own confusion.
She walked over and sat down across from me, then she set her bag aside. I could tell she was trying to be calm.
The waiter came. She ordered an Americano like she'd done it a thousand times. Then silence.
"You..." I started, voice rough. "You look so different."
Sophie's mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Ten years, Emily. Everyone changes."
Her eyes studied me, sharp. "You haven't changed much, though. Especially your eyes. Still can't hide anything."
That sentence cracked something open between us.
The tears came.
"Sophie, I really don't remember anything. I don't remember how my parents died, why we fought, and how I ended up married to Michael."
I told her everything. Michael's coldness. The divorce papers. The frozen house.
Sophie listened. At first, she looked suspicious. Then shocked. Then angry and sad.
She grabbed my cold hands. Hers were shaking too.
Her voice was low, and she was about to cry. "That guy's a bastard. Emily, you've been through so much."