Chapter 1
"People trust faces more than handwriting,"my neurologist had told me a year ago. "Tomorrow, you'll believe yourself before you believe anyone else."
I suffered from a rare neurological condition after a car crash. My long-term memory was fine, but new memories evaporated overnight. Every night when I slept, my brain wiped the canvas clean.
So for 365 days, my morning ritual never changed.
Earbuds in. Screen lit.
"Hi, Maeve. If you're watching this... you forgot again."
Every night before bed, I recorded a three-minute video. Every morning, I watched my own face remind me who I was, who I loved, and why I should keep choosing my fiancé, Conrad.
365 videos. A year of daily choices. A year of waking up with zero resentment and choosing to love him all over again.
Until tonight.
The grand ballroom of the Hilton was packed for Conrad's corporate anniversary. Crystal chandeliers glowed over sleek tuxedos and evening gowns.
Conrad stepped onto the stage, holding my phone in his hand.
"I found something fascinating today,"his voice echoed through the microphone, dripping with mock amusement.
He tapped the screen. The massive LED backdrop flickered, mirror-screening my camera roll to the entire room.
A video started playing. There I was on the screen, sitting on the kitchen floor in an oversized hoodie, holding a warm mug.
"He worked until 3 AM again,"my recorded voice whispered through the speakers. "Don't be mad at him when you wake up, Maeve. He's building a future for us."
Snickers rippled through the high-society crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"She records herself every single night,"Conrad sneered into the mic, looking down at me with pure contempt. "A full library of pathetic videos. She thought she could use them to guilt-trip me into staying."
I didn't cry. I didn't shield my face.
I walked up the stage stairs, my red heels clicking sharply against the wood.
"Conrad,"I said, my voice quiet, smooth, and cold. "Give me my phone."
"Are you embarrassed now, Maeve?"He laughed softly, pulling up the cloud folder. 365 videos. "You've been playing the devoted, tragic victim for a year. I'm sick of your emotional blackmail."
He selected all files and hit Delete Permanently.
"Stop making me the hero of your little movie, Maeve."
The red progress bar swept across the screen. 100%. Wiped.
The room went utterly silent. Everyone waited for me to crumble, to scream, to beg him to stop.
Instead, I looked up at Conrad. A small, faint smile touched my lips.
"You finally got what you wanted,"I whispered, turning my back on his triumphant face and walking off the stage without looking back.
"Tomorrow... I won't know you anymore."