Chapter 2

I didn't eat the breakfast he made, and I didn't even touch the cream puffs he brought home.

That evening, Bryan pushed open the door and froze when he saw the untouched box of cream puffs still sitting on the table.

"Why didn't you eat them? Not your thing?" He walked over, instinctively reaching out to ruffle my hair.

I subtly sidestepped, pretending to grab a pillow from the couch.

His hand hung in the air, making the living room feel awkward.

"Abigail," Bryan said, his voice turning serious. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" I asked, hugging a pillow as I settled into the armchair across from him, making sure there was some space between us.

"You've been off all day." He frowned tightly. The man, widely praised in countless news reports for being calm and decisive, looked utterly confused right now. "You've been avoiding me since last night. Why?"

I looked up at him, keeping my face calm.

That was how Bryan always was.

In his line of work, he was a legend. No matter how complicated the bomb, nothing could hide from him. He could tell life from death by catching the faintest electrical buzz or noticing the tiniest structural difference.

But when it came to emotions, he was totally clueless. Or perhaps I shouldn't put it that way. He simply reserved all his perceptiveness and thoughtfulness for his work and for Aria Nelson.

"I'm not avoiding you," I said calmly. "I guess I've been a little tired lately, and I kind of want to be by myself for a while."

"Tired?" Bryan repeated, clearly not buying it. "Work's been slow for you lately, hasn't it? Did someone upset you? Let me know. I'll take care of it."

He was at it again, always playing the hero, acting as if he could swoop in and fix all my problems.

Back in my previous life, I was completely captivated by his overwhelming need to protect and control everything. I thought he was some kind of invincible god.

But when he left me behind, I finally understood. His protection was always selective, and I was never his only choice.

"No one upset me," I said, taking a deep breath and deciding to approach this differently. "Bryan, we've been married for three years, right?"

He looked taken aback, clearly confused by my sudden question.

"Yeah, three years and two months," he answered right away, eager to show he hadn't forgotten.

"Then, do you really know me?" I stared right into his eyes, making sure every word hit home.

He froze, totally caught off guard by my question.

"Abigail, what do you mean by that?" Bryan's voice shot up, raw and defensive, as if I'd insulted his expertise. "We're husband and wife. How could you say I don't know you?"

"Oh, really?" I gave a soft laugh, but my eyes stayed distant. "So, tell me, what's my favorite color?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"So, what's my favorite fruit?" I pressed.

Bryan's frown grew even deeper, and he couldn't meet my eyes anymore.

"Can you tell me where our first date was, and what we ate?" I continued.

The air was dead silent.

Bryan's face flushed deep red, not from shyness, but from pure frustration and anger.

"Abigail, can you stop making a scene?" he finally snapped, his voice low and rough with irritation. "You know how busy I am, how much stress I'm under. I can't remember all this trivial stuff."

It turned out that to him, everything about me was trivial stuff.

My heart, the one that died in the blast, felt like it was being run over again by those words. It didn't hurt, and I felt completely numb.

"So what do you actually remember?" Instead of backing down, I pressed further. "You remember Aria loves white roses, she's allergic to mangoes, and your very first movie together is Dangerous Passage, right?"

"How do you even know that?" Bryan blurted out, and as soon as he heard himself, he realized he'd screwed up. His face instantly drained of color.

I laughed out loud, so hard that tears nearly spilled from my eyes.

He could remember, after all. Yet he chose not to remember anything about me.

"How do I know that?" I stood up, looking down at him. "Bryan, did you forget? I'm your wife, not your personal memory test. I see, I hear, and I feel."

With that, I turned and walked straight back to the bedroom, slamming the door with a loud bang and locking it behind me.

Outside, I heard Bryan pacing, his anger barely held back. Then came a loud thud as he punched the wall.

I leaned against the door and slid down to the floor.

I silently encouraged myself. This time, I had really nailed it.

In my previous life, because I loved him, I carefully protected his fragile ego, never confronting him about his special memories of Aria.

I kept telling myself his face blindness was no big deal, that he must love me.

I helped him remember all the traits of our relatives and friends, drilling him before every family event.

When he accidentally gave my birthday present to Aria, I smiled and told him it was no big deal. Then I went to Aria myself, telling her it was actually me who asked Bryan to give it to her.

I was like a humble patch, frantically patching up all the gaps his face blindness created in his interactions with others.

I thought this was love. Only now did I realize I was such a fool.

My restraint and consideration never won his regard. If anything, they only let him grow more comfortable mistaking me for Aria, blurring the line between his wife and the one he'd never really let go of.

In the end, when it was a matter of life and death, he chose Aria without a second thought, and that choice killed me.

Then, this time around, I would set the lines straight for him.