Chapter 1

Philip Maxwell had always been the kind of guy who put loyalty above everything else.

When his childhood sweetheart got hit with a terminal illness, he didn't hesitate—he came straight to me and made me drink the Nepenthe Decoction, a forget-memory potion.

"Tracy doesn't have much time left," he said. "Just give me three days to make her dying wish come true: a wedding.

"Don't worry. This stuff will only make you forget things for a little while. Once the ceremony with Tracy is done, I'll give you the Solace Root, a restore-memory potion, and it'll all come rushing back. We'll be together again, like nothing ever happened."

The way he looked at me left no room for argument, so I took the bowl from his hand without a word and knocked it back in one gulp.

What Philip didn't know was that there was no such thing as a restore-memory potion in this world—only the forget kind, with no way to undo it.

In three days, I'd forget every last bit of my past.

After receiving the divorce license, Philip glanced at his watch.

"In a few minutes, the Nepenthe Decoction will kick in. You'll forget all about me. Then, in three days, I'll give you the antidote, and you'll remember me again—but your memories from those three days will be wiped clean, completely erased.

"We're just taking a short break from each other. Once the wedding's done in three days, we'll remarry immediately. Relax—you'll always be my wife."

What he didn't know was that I'd developed the Nepenthe Leaf myself.

It didn't just cause temporary amnesia; it made a person's memories fade away gradually until they completely forgot the one they loved.

Most crucially, I'd never created an antidote.

And Philip was clueless about all of it.

I gazed at him calmly and murmured, "I hope you don't end up regretting the choice you made today."

He smiled and tousled my hair. "Tracy's had feelings for me for so many years. On her deathbed, all she wants is a wedding with me—it's her dying wish, so I have to make it happen. Of course I won't regret it.

"Debora, I know you're the most kind-hearted and understanding person out there. You wouldn't pick a fight with someone who's terminally ill. I promise, once this is all wrapped up, we'll go right back to being that loving couple we always were."

I stared at him, brimming with confidence, as a surge of bitterness welled up inside me. For a moment, I was at a loss for words.

During the happiest year of our marriage, I'd pushed myself to drink until my stomach bled, all to seal a deal for his business.

And he'd gotten into plenty of scraps defending me against people who sneered at me as a "pill popper."

I once teased him, "What if I forgot about you someday?"

Who could have guessed that this tough, burly guy like Philip would get teary-eyed in an instant and kiss me so fiercely I could hardly catch my breath?

"Debora, I love you. Please don't even joke about that—the mere thought drives me insane!"

But ever since he learned his childhood sweetheart was terminally ill, he not only pushed for a divorce but also forced me to drink the Nepenthe Decoction, erasing our shared past.

I figured he was doing it to give Tracy the perfect romance—a pure, undivided love that was all hers, with no trace of me in it.

What I couldn't wrap my head around was this: if he'd already fallen out of love and made me take the soup, why keep insisting we'd remarry afterward?

Did he really think I'd just wait around for him to come crawling back?

Before I could respond, a stabbing pain shot through my head. Everything went dark, and I crumpled to the floor.

Fortunately, Philip caught me just in time, his face etched with worry.

"What's the matter? If it would put your mind at ease, I can draw up a remarriage agreement right now and let you hold onto it along with the divorce license."

My head was throbbing intensely. I barely managed to steady myself and looked at Philip in bewilderment.

"Divorce license? What are you talking about?"

Philip looked taken aback and tested the waters. "Debora, do you remember that we're divorced?"

"Divorced?"

At my puzzled expression, his eyes sparkled with poorly hidden excitement.

As I followed his gaze to the marriage license in my hand, it suddenly clicked.

The potion was starting to take effect, and the first stage was wiping out my memory of the divorce.

Philip swiftly grabbed the divorce license from my grasp and shoved it into his pocket, as if terrified I'd peek inside.

"Debora, I'm your brother. You took a fall and forgot a few things—I'll hang onto this for you in the meantime."

I locked eyes with his guilty gaze and stayed quiet for a long beat, but I didn't expose his lie.

Since he wanted to play pretend, I'd go along with it all the way.

"Philip, so this is where you've been hiding."

A cloyingly sweet, fake voice suddenly rang out from behind us.

I turned and saw Tracy waving as she hurried over, but for some reason, she tripped over her own feet and lurched forward.