Chapter 2

I hung up the phone and headed home, only to realize the place was completely empty, nothing left but a shell.

This was the house Eliza and I had fixed up together. Back then, she promised we'd live here forever, just the two of us in our little cozy home.

But now, the coffee set we had designed, the trinkets we had picked out—everything connected to her had been taken away, not a single trace left.

I guess she was afraid I'd start reminiscing, so she even went as far as to overturn the soil in the pots on the balcony, removing all the flowers we once grew together.

I gave a wry smile as I looked at the empty house.

Eliza had really covered all her bases. I didn't know if it was because she was afraid I'd break down if I remembered everything, or if she was afraid I'd lose it and crash her wedding with Henry.

I wondered if she would regret it if she knew there was no antidote, that my memories would be gone for good.

I slipped off my wedding ring, penned Eliza a letter, and put both our rings together in an envelope. Then I hid it between the flowerpots.

Just then, my phone rang suddenly.

It was my buddy James Floyd. He paused, then said, "Noah, I need to tell you something. Eliza might be cheating. I caught her at the hospital entrance today, getting cozy with some guy."

I replied, "Whatever, let her be."

James was a little thrown by how chill I was. "Noah, are you okay?"

Hearing how nervous he sounded, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Why would I care? Eliza and I are already divorced," I replied.

"Divorced?" he exclaimed.

I gave him a quick rundown of everything. As soon as I mentioned I'd taken the Forgetting Pill, he cursed out loud.

"Those two are so shameless. Eliza would do anything just to get hitched to that guy. Unbelievable," he spat.

He added, "You had turned down a spot at the research institute and dedicated yourself to her. She owed a great deal of her success today to you.

"Now she dumped you for another man, and acted like she did you a favor by feeding you that pill, saying you won't be hurt. How could she? Where does she get the nerve?"

Pain finally filled my eyes, and I went pale.

Five years ago, when Eliza was down and out, I married her without hesitation.

I pulled every string I had to bring her company back from the brink.

Back then, she'd clung to me every night and whispered in my ear that I was the one she'd love forever.

Too bad all of that slowly started to fall apart.

Her heart had moved on—she started caring about someone else.

She conveniently forgot everything I'd done for her, expecting me to be all sweet and understanding, forgiving her for the sympathy she showed Henry.

Was it really that hard to keep loving someone, no matter what? If so, why was I able to do it?

James continued to curse up a storm, and only when he was finally worn out did he pause. "I'm telling you, Eliza's definitely gonna regret dumping you and forcing you to take the pill.

"She doesn't even realize you never made an antidote. Let her drown in misery—she deserves every bit of it. And you? Now's your chance to really let go."

I glanced over at the flowerpots, the spot where I'd just tucked away our rings and my letter.

After all these years living with Eliza, I knew her inside out.

When she was upset, she always grabbed a drink and hid out on the balcony.

If she regretted one day, I knew that would be when she'd find my letter.

*****

Later that night, Eliza came in and started digging through the wardrobes in the house.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

She paused mid-search, then turned and saw me standing in the doorway in my pajamas.

She frowned and wrapped a scarf around my neck. "Why are you barely dressed? It's freezing this late at night."

I ignored her comment and asked, "Are you looking for something?"

"Yeah. I need to borrow your suit. Henry wants to wear it at the wedding," Eliza said. "You probably forgot—it's the one you wore back when you got married."

I just stared at her, silent.

Of course I hadn't forgotten. She had designed and made that suit for me.

From sketching the blueprint to stitching it all together, she poured two whole months into it. If one tagged a price on that kind of effort, it'd be worth over 1.5 million dollars.

And she went through all that trouble because I once half-joked, "I wish I had a suit that was truly one of a kind."

And now, she wanted to take the very suit she made for me to dress up another guy and marry him.

I couldn't help but find it a bit ironic, so I deliberately asked, "Is that suit really important? Why does it have to be that particular one?"

My words must have stirred up memories for Eliza—she stopped moving for a moment.

When she first finished that suit, she had told me, "This suit belongs to you, and you alone. Forever."

I kept my gaze fixed on Eliza. She hesitated for just a split second before finally answering, "It's because it was designed by a brilliant designer—there's literally only one like it anywhere.

"Henry's obsessed with it. The only thing he wants is to get married wearing that suit."

Seeing me look down, she quickly added, "Don't worry. I'll give it back to you right after the wedding. And if there's anything you want then, just say the word."

Her lie was flawless. My heart jolted once more.

On our wedding day, Eliza's eyes had barely left me for even a second.

After the ceremony was over, she treated that suit like a priceless treasure, carefully stashing it away in the wardrobe.

I laughed and teased her, "Why do you cherish this suit so much?"

But Eliza shot me a serious look. "It's you who made this suit truly special. I want to keep this memory safe forever."

But now, all it took was Henry saying he liked it, and Eliza handed it over without a second thought.

That suit—once treated like a treasure—was nothing more than a prop to please Henry now.

"It's getting late. You should rest. I have to step out for a bit," she said.

She didn't notice anything strange about me, just scooped up the suit and left.

I slipped off the scarf and let it drop to the floor, lowering my head. I stared at the empty wardrobe, disappointment and sadness washing over me.

"It's okay," I said to the wardrobe. "I'm like you. Once she's finished clearing out everything, everything would be okay again."

So what if I was abandoned?

Once my memories of Eliza were gone for good, I could really move on.

Just then, a stabbing pain tore through my brain, and in an instant, another piece of my memory simply blinked out of existence.

The agony yanked me straight out of that sadness.