Chapter 1
I ran into my narcotics officer husband, who vanished two years ago.
He didn't remember me.
When he held his new wife and looked at me, his eyes were icy with distrust.
I smiled, swallowed the bitterness, and said nothing.
Because the hypnosis that erased his memories two years ago—it was me who performed it.
***
Maxine crashed back into my life without warning.
It happened during the hospital department's celebration dinner. I was completely drunk.
Our deputy director, Jones, had been promoted and hosted a celebratory dinner.
When my colleagues teased that I might be next in line for the vacant position.
I drank to every toast until the room spun.
By the time we stumbled out of the restaurant, I was leaning on two colleagues for balance, my stomach churning.
Then I heard one of them gasp. "Damn, he is so hot."
I tilted my head, following her gaze.
There he was, leaning against his car, cigarette smoke curling around his sharp features.
I froze in that instant.
Two years. Seven hundred nights.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd run into him like this, on some ordinary evening.
He looked the same, yet everything about him felt different.
For one heartbeat, maybe two, I just stood there.
I blinked hard, rubbing my eyes like I could wipe away the alcohol—or the illusion.
But the vision remained: Maxine, haloed by streetlights, the cigarette smoke softening the edges of the man who'd once been my husband.
The world around us roared with noise.
Yet he stood there, silent and detached.
My eyes instantly welled up with tears. My body reacted before my mind could catch up.
Drunk and muddled, I shoved my colleagues aside and stumbled straight toward him.
He was startled by my sudden rush.
He flinched back, but not fast enough.
I still managed to wrap my arms tightly around his waist.
"Maxine." I choked out his name, and with it came my tears.
The alcohol stripped away my self-control.
I choked up, rambling about the longing I'd held for two years.
Until he pried my hands off with rough force.
Dazed, I staggered backward and crashed to the ground.
His eyes burned with undisguised disgust and wariness.
Yet his touch was gentle as he pulled the approaching woman closer.
His voice softened like he was afraid of scaring her.
"Honey, I swear I don't know her."
The rain-slicked pavement was slippery.
The impact rattled my bones.
My head buzzed, and with the alcohol churning in my stomach, I couldn't stop vomiting.
My colleagues rushed over, scrambling to help me up.
Maxine shot me another glance, like I was some disheveled lunatic.
Probably worried I'd hurt his new wife, he swiftly opened the passenger door first, shielding her as she got in.
Before getting into the car, the woman shot me a glance.
Even through my drunken haze, I could see the hostility in her eyes clearly.
Staggering, tears streaming down my face, I lunged toward Maxine again.
"You can't leave! I've been looking for you for two years! Please... come home with me, okay?"
This time, my colleagues grabbed me, stopping me from rushing forward.
They awkwardly apologized on my behalf, "Sorry, sorry! She's wasted. Our bad."
His eyes were icy as he warned, "Since she's drunk, she should be at home sleeping it off. Try that again and I won't be nice."
My colleagues dragged me away from there.
The last thing I saw was Maxine's disgust.
The man who'd once loved me now looked at me like I was trash.
"But he is my husband," on the way back, trembling through tears, I murmured to myself.
We were married for three years.
My colleagues took me home and helped me into bed.