He Was My Husband. Now He’s Nobody.

I stood rooted to the spot as he approached. When Nathaniel passed me, our eyes met briefly, and for the slightest moment, his pace faltered as though something about my face had caught his attention. His gaze lingered over my features before his expression hardened. There was no warmth in his eyes, only a cold, cutting distance that made me feel as though an invisible blade had grazed across my skin. Whatever he might have thought, however, lasted no more than a second. He looked away and continued toward the emergency room, Camille still held securely against his chest. I slowly curled my fingers into my palms. I had no reason to follow him, so I remained where I was, staring at the floor while trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next. Should I return to parents who clearly wished I would disappear? Should I go searching for a husband who could barely stand to look at me? What kind of life had I been living before I forgot everything? I hadn't even reached an answer when I heard footsteps approaching from behind. When I turned around, Nathaniel was already there. Before I could say anything, he reached for my wrist and pulled me toward him. His grip was firm enough that I instinctively frowned. His eyes settled on me. “Your blood type is Rh-negative, correct?” I stared at him in confusion. “I don't know. I only woke up today, and I can't remember—” “Camille was involved in an accident,” he interrupted. “She lost a significant amount of blood, and the hospital doesn't have enough of her blood type available. They said there's a possibility yours could be compatible.” His voice remained controlled, but the urgency beneath it was unmistakable. “Will you donate some blood to her?” I opened my mouth, still struggling to understand what was happening. “I don't even know if I—” His hand suddenly moved behind my head. Before I could react, Nathaniel lowered his face and pressed his lips against mine. It lasted barely a moment. There was no tenderness in it, no hesitation, and certainly no affection. It felt more like a transaction than a kiss, cold and deliberate. He pulled away almost immediately, his expression unchanged. “Does that satisfy you?” he asked. “Now will you come donate the blood?” I could only stare at him. My mind was still trying to catch up with what had just happened when a nurse appeared and began leading me toward the blood collection room. Everything afterward happened so quickly that I barely had time to process it. I was seated in a chair, my sleeve pushed up, and the nurses prepared the equipment while voices drifted through the door. “Isn't that Mrs. Sterling?” one nurse whispered. “Yes. The woman who's supposedly tried to kill herself almost fifty times.” “I heard her first attempt was because she wanted President Sterling to kiss her,” another said. “The second time, she apparently begged him to take her on a date. Then she tried again because she wanted to spend the night with him.” “And he turned her down every time.” A quiet laugh followed. “That’s humiliating.” “Still, she finally got her kiss today.” There was a brief silence before another nurse spoke. “Except it was only because Miss Camille needed her blood.” Someone sighed sympathetically. “Imagine begging a man for something for so long, only to realize the moment you finally get it, he’s doing it for another woman. That must hurt.” The needle entered my vein. A sharp sting ran through my arm, but strangely, the pain barely registered. Through the glass window beside me, I could see into another room farther down the corridor. Nathaniel was standing beside Camille's bed. He held her hand between both of his, his long fingers wrapped carefully around hers as though she were something precious he was afraid of damaging. Then he lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss against the back of her hand. That kiss was nothing like the one he had given me. There was tenderness in it, along with patience and unmistakable affection. I watched them without saying anything as my blood slowly flowed into the collection bag beside me. Oddly enough, I didn't feel jealous. I wasn't happy about it, but neither did my heart break at the sight. Perhaps the old Adeline would have cried. Maybe she would have felt as though something inside her had been torn apart. But I wasn't that Adeline anymore. I remembered nothing. Even the ache from the needle seemed distant, as though a thin barrier stood between me and the emotions that should have belonged to this life. My eyes settled on the dark red blood traveling through the tube. Had my life truly been that miserable? Had I really spent so much time begging a man like Nathaniel to love me? The thought seemed almost absurd. Then another realization quietly followed. Maybe forgetting everything wasn't the cruelest thing that had happened to me. Maybe it was the only mercy I had ever received. Once they finished drawing my blood, I left the room feeling lightheaded. The nurses had taken roughly four hundred cc, and my legs felt strangely weak beneath me. The lights overhead blurred whenever I tried to focus on them, so I leaned against the wall and waited until my breathing steadied. I should leave. But where would I go? I didn't know my parents' address. I didn't know where Nathaniel lived. I couldn't even remember where I was supposed to call home. After standing there for several minutes, I finally forced myself to continue down the corridor. Nathaniel was still outside Camille's room. I stopped several feet away and called his name. “Nathaniel, could you tell me where we live?” His eyebrows immediately drew together. Before he could respond, I added, “I'll give you something in exchange. Consider it a gift.” His expression changed at once. “What kind of trick are you trying to pull now?” “I'm not trying to trick you,” I said weakly. A humorless laugh escaped him. “Adeline, you've attempted suicide nearly fifty times, and now you're expecting me to believe you've suddenly forgotten the address of your own home?” I swallowed before explaining, “I really did lose my memories. The doctor said it's dissociative amnesia.” Nathaniel studied me with an unmistakable look of disbelief. After a moment, he simply said, “The driver is outside. Tell him to take you home.” I nodded. “Alright. Thank you.” I hesitated before adding, “I'll still prepare the gift.” His face became even colder. “Forget it. I don't want anything from you. Stop trying to win my favor. Whatever you're doing won't change anything.” I looked at him for a moment before lowering my eyes and allowing a faint smile to touch my lips. “Are you certain?” There was no point telling him that he was going to notice this particular gift. I kept that thought to myself. Then I turned and walked outside. The driver was waiting, and I climbed into the back seat. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Good afternoon, ma'am. Shall I take you home?” “Yes,” I answered quietly. But before the car could even leave the hospital grounds, I pulled out my phone. My contact list was filled with names that meant nothing to me. I scrolled through them slowly until one caught my attention. Lawyer. I opened the conversation and typed. “Hello. I need your assistance. I want to divorce my husband and legally sever my relationship with my parents. Could you prepare the necessary divorce documents and paperwork to terminate the parent-child relationship?” The response arrived almost immediately. “Certainly, Ms. Prescott. I'll begin preparing the documents right away.” I stared at the message for several seconds before turning off my phone. Outside the window, buildings and vehicles passed in a blur. Everything looked unfamiliar. Perhaps that was exactly what it was. If I truly couldn't remember anything about my old life, then maybe I had been given something most people never got—a chance to begin again without carrying the weight of everything that came before. “Driver.” “Yes, ma'am?” “Don't take me home yet. Could you bring me to the immigration office first?” He glanced at me through the mirror, clearly surprised. “The immigration office?” “I need to take care of some paperwork.” He looked as though he wanted to ask why, but in the end, he simply nodded. “Of course, ma'am. We'll go there now.” The rest of the journey passed quietly. Fortunately, the immigration office wasn't crowded, and the process went more smoothly than I expected. The staff checked my documents, confirmed the necessary information, and explained what would happen next. Finally, one of them gave me a polite smile. “Everything is in order, Ms. Prescott. Your paperwork should be completed in approximately two weeks.”

Once I was back inside the car, I hesitated before finally turning toward the driver. “Can I ask you something?” “Certainly, ma’am.” “Please don’t tell Nathaniel about where I went today,” I said quietly. “Especially the immigration office.” His hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel. After a brief silence, he answered cautiously, “Ma’am, I should probably be honest with you. The boss has always instructed us not to discuss you around him.” I frowned. “What does that mean?” The driver cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “He told everyone that unless it concerns something important, we shouldn’t bring you up in conversation.” A small, humorless laugh escaped me. “So he doesn’t even want to hear my name?” The driver remained silent. I took that silence as an answer. ** When we reached the house, I stepped out of the car and stared at the enormous villa in front of me. It was unfamiliar, yet there was something strangely comforting about it too, as though some part of me recognized the place even if my memories refused to cooperate. Inside, everything was elegant and expensive, from the furniture to the decorations. The colors, fabrics, and little details throughout the rooms seemed to match my taste perfectly. I approached the sofa and lightly brushed my fingers over its embroidered cushions. Had I chosen these myself? If I had, then I must have once been happy while putting this place together. Maybe I had imagined coming home to this house every day and building a wonderful life with Nathaniel. Maybe I had actually believed that marriage meant two people choosing each other. Then I noticed the large wedding photograph displayed prominently on the wall. I walked closer. The woman in the picture was me. I was smiling so brightly that it almost looked unnatural now. My eyes were filled with affection as I gazed at the man standing beside me. Nathaniel looked handsome in his wedding suit, but his expression was completely blank. He wasn't even looking at me. I studied the photograph for several seconds before finally turning away. I went upstairs and entered the bedroom. I didn't know where anything was, yet my body seemed to remember what my mind had forgotten. Without consciously deciding where to go, I walked straight to the dresser and opened one of the drawers. Something slipped out. A leather-bound notebook landed on the floor with a quiet thump. I picked it up and opened it. The first page was covered in uneven handwriting. Some of the letters were crooked and cramped, as though whoever had written them had been shaking, crying, or simply too exhausted to care about making them neat. First day of my marriage to Nathaniel. He went directly to his study after the ceremony and didn't speak to me. That's okay. I'll wait for him. My chest tightened. I turned the page. The entries became increasingly painful to read. Twenty-sixth attempt today. Nathaniel still didn't come. My assistant said Camille was sick with a fever, so he stayed with her throughout the night. I spent the entire night alone in the emergency room, listening to the IV drip beside my bed. My fingers trembled around the edge of the paper. I swallowed and continued. Thirty-ninth attempt. I took sleeping pills again. When I woke up, I heard Nathaniel talking on the phone outside. He sounded irritated. He said, “Just let her die.” I don't think the pills hurt as much as hearing those words from the person I loved most. There is nothing more painful than realizing the man you would do anything for wishes you were gone. My vision became hazy. I wiped at my eyes and forced myself to turn another page. The final entry was waiting for me. Forty-ninth attempt. I think I've reached my limit. If even this doesn't work, I'll leave somewhere no one can find me. It seems like nobody would care whether I stayed or disappeared anyway. Goodbye. I slammed the diary shut. The sound echoed through the bedroom. For some reason, my chest felt as though someone had ripped it open from the inside. I looked down at my wrists, and only then did I really notice the faint scars running across them. I had seen them before without giving them much thought. Now, they seemed impossible to ignore. So this was what my life had been. For six years, I had apparently been begging for affection from a man who couldn't even be bothered to care whether I lived or died. What kind of person had I become? How desperate must Adeline have been to keep returning to the same man, hoping that one day he might finally love her? A few tears escaped before I hurriedly wiped them away. “It's alright,” I whispered, though I wasn't sure whether I was comforting myself or the woman whose memories were gone. “Even if nobody loves you, you'll still be alright.” I carefully put the diary back where I had found it and closed the drawer. Moonlight spilled through the bedroom window, forming a pale patch across the floor near my feet. I stared at it for a long while before speaking under my breath. “As long as you don't abandon yourself, Adeline, you haven't really lost everything.” ** For the next several days, the villa remained eerily quiet. Nathaniel never returned, and not a single person came looking for me. Oddly enough, I didn't find the solitude unbearable. Perhaps it was because I couldn't remember loving anyone in this house. Without those memories, there was no longing for Nathaniel and no expectation that he would suddenly come home. There was also no one around to remind me of how unwanted I apparently was. So I stayed there quietly, waiting for my immigration documents to be processed. That peaceful silence finally ended when my phone rang. It was my mother. The moment I answered, her voice came through, as cold and commanding as I remembered it. “Camille's birthday banquet is tomorrow at seven in the evening. It's being held at the Enchanted Star Hotel. Make sure you're there.” I hesitated. “I don't think I—” “That's all I needed to tell you.” She ended the call before I could finish. I stared at the screen for a moment. She hadn't even cared enough to hear my answer. The following evening, I chose the plainest black dress in my closet and went to the hotel. The banquet hall was enormous, brilliantly lit, and packed with guests. Laughter and conversation filled every corner as Camille stood in the middle of the crowd, receiving compliments with a sweet smile. Nathaniel was there too. It was the first time I'd seen him since the hospital. Two women standing nearby were talking quietly. “Camille really has everything,” one of them said. “Her parents practically worship her, and even Nathaniel Sterling treats her like she's a princess.” “Of course he does,” the other replied. “I heard he personally arranged the entire banquet. The champagne was flown in from Italy this morning, and every bottle costs six figures. Even the flowers were shipped directly from the Netherlands.” I glanced around. The entire hall had been transformed into an extravagant garden. “Apparently, the decorations were inspired by Morako's garden paintings because Camille loves that style. They spent more than fifteen million dollars just on the setup.” I took a small sip of wine and looked toward Nathaniel. He was dressed in a black suit, the collar slightly loosened and the top button undone. Somehow, even dressed casually, he still looked impossibly polished and expensive. But his clothes weren't what caught my attention. He was crouched beside Camille, carefully lifting the hem of her dress so it wouldn't brush against the floor. There was even a faint smile on his face. A gentle one. A smile I had never seen directed at me. So Nathaniel knew how to smile like that. He simply never smiled that way for me. Before I could look away, the host's voice rang through the hall, asking everyone to settle down. My parents soon appeared onstage with Camille standing between them. My father cleared his throat, surveying the guests with undisguised pride. “Thank you all for joining us tonight to celebrate Camille's birthday,” he began. “However, this evening isn't only about her birthday. We also have an important announcement concerning our family.” The conversations immediately died down. My father rested a hand on Camille's shoulder before continuing. “From this day forward, Camille will inherit sixty percent of the shares in Prescott Group.” The announcement was followed by a wave of shocked gasps and murmurs. My fingers tightened around the wineglass. Wow.

I froze when Nathaniel stepped onto the stage and opened a small velvet box beneath the banquet lights. Inside was a delicate crystal tiara that glittered brightly against the velvet lining. Someone in the crowd immediately gasped. “Isn’t that a Sterling family heirloom? I heard the old madam left it specifically for the wife of her eldest grandson.” Another guest lowered their voice, though not enough to keep those nearby from hearing. “He’s giving the family tiara to his wife’s younger sister? President Sterling is practically humiliating Adeline in front of everyone.” Nathaniel ignored the whispers and carefully placed the tiara on Camille’s head. It fit perfectly. Camille glanced toward me, where I stood quietly at the edge of the room, before turning to my parents and Nathaniel with an almost hesitant expression. “Dad, Mom, Nathaniel, don’t you think this is inappropriate? Adeline is your biological daughter and Nathaniel’s wife. Shouldn’t something this important belong to her?” My parents immediately took her hands. “Camille, what are you saying?” my mother asked. “Adeline is already married into the Sterling family and has their support. She has plenty. We’re simply preparing for your future and giving you what you deserve.” Nathaniel's voice followed, calm and indifferent. “If things had gone differently that night, you would have received it sooner or later anyway.” My chest tightened. My parents' words felt like slaps, but Nathaniel's were colder, cutting through me with a precision that hurt even more. Around me, people stared openly. Some looked sympathetic, others amused, and a few seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. I could almost feel Camille's satisfaction. She had gotten what she wanted. Yet I wasn't devastated. I wasn't even angry. I simply set my wineglass down and walked away. Whispers followed behind me. “Her eyes look red. She must have cried in the restroom.” “Poor thing. Her own parents and husband both favor the adopted daughter.” I ignored them and went straight to the restroom. When I looked into the mirror, I found no tears. My makeup was untouched, and my eyes were completely dry. I had forgotten everything. I no longer remembered how desperately I had once sought my parents' approval, how often I had begged Nathaniel to notice me, or how little affection I had apparently been willing to accept. Those memories were gone. Without them, the people I had once worshipped no longer seemed important. They were strangers. I was touching up my lipstick when I noticed movement farther down the corridor. I stopped. Nathaniel had Camille pressed against the wall. He was kissing her. One hand was tangled in her hair while the other held her tightly around the waist. Camille leaned into him without hesitation, tilting her head back and allowing him to pull her closer. I stood there silently, unable to look away. After a long moment, Nathaniel pulled back just enough to brush his thumb across her lips. “Are you satisfied now?” he murmured. Camille smiled sweetly. “I know I'm asking for too much, but I wanted this too. You already gave me the family tiara, and I still wanted a kiss. If my sister saw us, she'd probably be heartbroken all over again.” Nathaniel's expression remained cold. “That isn't my concern. I never wanted Adeline, Camille. I never have. You're the only woman I've ever loved.” Then he kissed her again. My chest suddenly tightened, and I pressed a hand against my heart. Was this pain coming from the Adeline who had loved him? Could some part of those feelings still remain even though I remembered nothing? I didn't know. I only knew that watching them together hurt in a way I couldn't explain. Their kiss seemed to last forever before Nathaniel finally pulled away and left. I waited until they were completely gone before stepping out of hiding. After taking a slow breath, I straightened my dress and prepared to retrieve my bag and leave. I never got the chance. The moment I entered the hall, Camille rushed toward me and seized my wrist. “Sister, if you wanted the tiara, you could have asked me. I would have given it to you. Why did you steal it?” I stared at her. “Steal what?” Camille's eyes immediately filled with tears. “Stop pretending! I went to the restroom, and when I returned, the tiara was gone. The waiter said you were the only person near my things!” “I didn't take—” A sharp slap struck my cheek before I could finish. My parents had already rushed over. “Adeline!” my mother shouted. “Can't you go even one day without causing trouble?” My cheek burned as I stared at her in disbelief. Then she turned toward the staff. “Search her immediately!” Several waiters surrounded me, grabbing at my arms and clothes as they searched. “Stop! I didn't steal anything!” I cried, struggling against them. Then came the sound of fabric tearing. My dress ripped at the shoulder, exposing part of my skin. Gasps and whispers swept across the hall, followed by a few snickers that made my stomach twist. Then one of the waiters suddenly held something up. “Found it! The tiara was inside her bag!” Camille immediately took it from him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stared at me with wounded disbelief. “Now, sister, what do you have to say?” My entire body trembled. I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell them that I hadn't taken anything and demand that someone listen to me, but the words refused to come out. My mind felt like it was breaking apart under the pressure. Then the crowd suddenly began moving aside. Measured footsteps echoed across the marble floor. I looked up. Nathaniel was walking toward me. His polished shoes struck the floor with each deliberate step, and every sound seemed to pound against my chest. He stopped in front of me, his gaze as cold as it had been at the hospital. “Why would you steal something like this?” he asked. “Have you forgotten that I've never even treated you like my wife?” I stared up at him. “There are things that simply don't belong to you, Adeline,” he continued. “No matter how badly you want them, they will never be yours.” For some reason, I smiled. It was a small smile, but it clearly caught him off guard. His brow twitched slightly. Nathaniel had seen me cry before. He had watched me scream, lose control, beg for his attention, and humiliate myself trying to make him care. But he'd never seen me look at him like this. As though I'd finally stopped caring. “I didn't steal the tiara,” I said quietly. My voice carried clearly through the silent hall. The chandelier light reflected in my eyes, making them appear bright, but there were no tears. I took a slow breath. “And there's something else.” I met Nathaniel's gaze directly. “I don't like you anymore.” The entire room fell silent. Everyone stared at me as though I'd said something impossible. Adeline—the woman who had chased after Nathaniel, begged for his affection, and cried endlessly because he refused to love her—had just told him she didn't want him anymore. They couldn't believe it. But I could. Because it was true. I didn't like him anymore.

Every person in the room seemed to be staring at me. Shock was written across their faces, but Nathaniel remained perfectly still. He stood before me in his immaculate suit, his expression cold and unreadable. “How long are you going to keep this up?” he asked, his voice low and laced with sarcasm. “I’ve told you countless times, Adeline. Nothing you do is going to change how I feel about you.” He leaned slightly closer, his eyes fixed on mine. “I don’t have feelings for you. I never did.” The words sent a chill through me. The crowd quickly recovered, and whispers spread throughout the banquet hall. “I knew she was pretending. How could Miss Prescott suddenly stop loving President Sterling?” “Exactly. She tried to kill herself forty-nine times just to make him notice her. There’s no way she suddenly stopped caring.” “Poor thing. She really has no shame.” My hands curled tightly at my sides until my nails dug into my palms. I barely noticed the pain. I wanted to tell them they were wrong. I wasn't pretending, and I wasn't trying to provoke Nathaniel. I genuinely didn't love him anymore. Before I could say anything, my father stepped forward. “Everyone, please excuse her behavior. Clearly, we failed as parents if she has become shameless enough to steal from her own sister.” He gestured toward the security guards. “Take her to the hotel’s cold storage. Leave her there overnight. Perhaps the cold will finally teach her to think about what she’s done.” My entire body went rigid. “I told you I didn't steal anything!” Nobody listened. Two guards grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I struggled desperately, but before I could break free, a sharp pain suddenly struck the back of my neck. My legs gave way. The hallway blurred around me, and the last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was Nathaniel standing in the distance. He didn't move. He didn't look worried. There wasn't even a trace of concern on his face. When I woke, I was freezing. This wasn't the ordinary chill of winter. The cold had seeped through my skin and settled deep inside my bones. Frost coated my eyelashes, and every breath escaped in a cloud of white vapor. My limbs felt stiff, while my fingers had turned numb and purple. The temperature had to be far below freezing. I was wearing nothing but a thin slip dress, and the exposed skin on my arms and legs was already beginning to turn blue. I couldn't die here. I refused to. My immigration papers would be ready soon. Once I had them, I could leave this place behind and start a new life somewhere far away. I only needed to survive until then. Forcing myself onto my hands and knees, I crawled toward the metal door. My fingers barely moved, but I still raised my hands and pounded against it. “Please… somebody help me…” My voice was weak and cracked. No one answered. Then I heard a familiar voice from outside. “Stop knocking, sister.” I froze. Camille. I could hear the smug smile in her voice. “Everyone is celebrating my birthday right now. Do you honestly think anyone has time to worry about you?” She laughed softly. “Actually, I just thought of something. Isn't it funny?” I swallowed painfully. “Isn't today your birthday too?” I asked, my voice trembling. “What a shame,” Camille replied. “Nobody remembered, did they? How unfortunate.” Her laughter followed. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. “Look at us, Adeline. I'm surrounded by people in a luxurious banquet hall, while you're freezing to death in a storage room. So what if you're the Prescott family's biological heiress? And who cares if I came from an orphanage?” Her voice became more spiteful. “You're still beneath me.” I closed my eyes, fighting the nausea rising in my throat. Then her phone rang. A moment later, I realized she had turned on the speaker. “Camille, where are you?” Nathaniel. His deep voice came through the door, but unlike the cold tone he always used with me, there was warmth in it. Camille immediately sounded weak. “I’m feeling a little dizzy. I’m in the lounge.” “Stay there. I’ll come to you.” His voice softened. “Wait for me, sweetheart.” The call ended. The storage room fell silent again. I closed my eyes. Then memories began to return. I remembered the diary and its tear-stained pages, filled with the desperate thoughts of the woman I had once been. I remembered watching Nathaniel care for Camille. I remembered her birthday the previous year, when he had rented an entire revolving restaurant just because she wanted to see snow. I remembered Camille's fever and how Nathaniel had stayed beside her throughout the night, even missing important company events to take care of her. Most of all, I remembered his eyes. They softened whenever he looked at Camille. Whenever he looked at me, they turned cold. I remembered hiding nearby while the two of them grew closer, desperately hoping Nathaniel might spare me even a little of the affection he gave her so freely. I had been so pathetic. Yet as I lay there in the freezing room, one thought became strangely clear. I didn't love him anymore. Maybe I hadn't loved him for a very long time. A faint, bitter smile touched my lips before darkness swallowed me again. ** When I woke up, I was lying in my bed at the villa. Loud laughter and exaggerated cartoon noises were coming from downstairs. I slowly sat up, rubbed my eyes, and walked toward the bedroom door. Camille was sitting comfortably on the living room floor, her legs crossed as she held a bag of snacks and laughed at the television. When she noticed me, she grinned. “Oh, you're finally awake. Did we disturb you? Sorry, sister. I suppose the cartoons got a little loud.” She popped another chip into her mouth. “My chest has been feeling uncomfortable these past few days, so Nathaniel thought it would be better if I stayed here for a while. The air in this villa is much nicer, anyway. You don't mind, do you?” My gaze shifted toward the sofa. Nathaniel sat there reading financial documents, his long fingers turning the pages one after another. His gold-rimmed glasses rested neatly on his face, and his attention remained fixed on the papers. The television was blaring. Camille was laughing, crunching chips, and making exaggerated noises along with the cartoon. Nathaniel didn't react. I suddenly remembered something from my diary. There had once been a day when I sat beside Nathaniel eating an apple. The sound of me chewing irritated him so much that he ordered me to leave. After that, I learned to stay completely silent whenever he was nearby, especially while he worked. Even the smallest noise seemed to bother him. Yet Camille could make as much noise as she wanted. She rattled the snack bag, laughed loudly, and reacted dramatically to everything happening on the screen. Nathaniel didn't even look up. The difference between being loved and being unwanted couldn't have been clearer. I was about to speak when Nathaniel finally broke his silence. “If that accident hadn't happened years ago, all of this would have belonged to you.” His eyes remained on his documents. “She’s the one who took your place. You don't owe her an explanation.” I looked at him calmly. “You're right. You don't need to explain yourself to me.” Then I glanced at Camille. “If you want to stay here, you're welcome to stay as long as you like.” Nathaniel's fingers paused. He turned another page before finally raising his eyes toward me. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual, as though he was trying to figure out what had changed. Perhaps he was finally realizing that I wasn't the same Adeline he remembered. I wasn't begging him anymore. I wasn't competing with Camille for his attention. And I wasn't waiting for him to give me the smallest scrap of affection and pretending it was enough. Something stirred quietly inside me, like a tiny spark returning after years of darkness. I didn't belong to these people anymore. And perhaps, finally, I was learning that I didn't need to care.

I remained in my room for most of the day, listening to everything happening downstairs. Camille had the television turned up so loudly that I could hear every laugh and dramatic sound effect through the walls. Her heels clicked freely across the wooden floors, and every so often, her laughter floated through the villa as though she had always belonged there. At one point, I heard her open one of Nathaniel's expensive bottles of red wine and drink it alongside fried chicken. I remembered enough from my diary to know that every one of those things would once have driven Nathaniel mad. He hated loud television. He hated footsteps echoing through the house while he worked. He was particular about his wine and had once snapped at me simply for touching a bottle without asking. Yet now, instead of complaining, I heard him speak to Camille in a gentle voice. “Take your time. No one is going to steal your food. Just relax and eat properly. I’ll make sure there’s enough for you.” I stayed upstairs until dinner. By the time I finally entered the dining room, the table had already been filled with dishes. Camille was seated beside Nathaniel, looking completely at ease, as though the entire villa had been prepared for her comfort. She pointed excitedly toward the food. “Nathaniel, you actually remembered all of these! Even the fried chicken, exactly the way I like it. And you paired it with this wine, too. How do you manage to be so thoughtful?” A faint smile appeared on his face. “I remember the things that matter to you. I wanted everything tonight to be exactly the way you like it, especially after the difficult few weeks you've had. You should be able to relax here.” Camille's expression brightened even more when she noticed me. “Sister, why are you standing over there? Come sit with us. There's more than enough food. Nathaniel went through all this trouble to prepare everything, so you should have some, too.” I didn't answer. Instead, I quietly took the seat at the opposite end of the table. For some reason, I felt as though I had walked into a family gathering that wasn't mine. I picked up a piece of food and took a cautious bite. Within seconds, an unpleasant itch began spreading through my throat. I frowned and tried something else, thinking perhaps the first dish had caused it, but the irritation only became worse. A prickling sensation crawled across my skin, followed by an uncomfortable tightness in my chest. Then Camille's voice rose sharply. “Sister, what's happening to you?” I looked down. Red patches had begun spreading across my arms. My breathing became increasingly difficult, and every attempt to speak seemed to tighten my throat further. I tried to reach for my bag and barely managed to gesture toward it. My emergency medication was inside. Camille immediately stood. “I'll get it!” She hurried toward my bag, but her chair caught against her leg as she moved. She stumbled, and the bowl of steaming soup in her hands tipped forward. The contents poured directly over my arms. A scream tore from my throat. The heat was unbearable. Tears sprang into my eyes as I recoiled from the table, clutching my burned skin. Through my blurred vision, I saw Nathaniel move. For one brief second, I thought he was coming toward me. He wasn't. He had rushed to Camille. He caught her by the shoulders and immediately inspected her hands. “Did you burn yourself?” His expression changed instantly. “Damn it, Camille, I told you to be careful. Why would you rush like that?” I stared at them. My breathing was getting weaker. The last thing I saw was Nathaniel lifting Camille into his arms and carrying her away. Then everything disappeared. ** When I woke again, I was lying in a hospital bed with an IV attached to my arm. A nurse was checking my drip when she noticed my eyes opening. “You were lucky,” she said. “The allergic reaction was extremely severe. If you hadn't received treatment in time, the outcome could have been much worse. You also suffered second-degree burns.” She adjusted the IV before looking toward the door. “Your family hasn't visited once in four days. Don't they know you're here?” I opened my mouth, but voices from the corridor caught my attention. “Did you hear? President Sterling reserved the entire floor after Miss Prescott was injured.” “Seriously? He went that far?” “Apparently. By the time I came on shift, her burns were already starting to heal. She must be incredibly important to him.” Another nurse sighed wistfully. “If someone went to that much trouble for me, I'd probably cry.” I slowly closed my eyes. “I don't have a family,” I whispered. The nurse fell silent. She looked at me for a moment, then quietly walked away. The ward eventually became quiet again. Then my phone vibrated on the bedside table. I struggled to reach it and answered without checking the caller. A familiar voice immediately came through. “Rora? It's Grandpa.” My fingers tightened around the phone. It was the Sterling family's patriarch, the only elder mentioned in my diary who had ever treated me with genuine kindness. “Rora, I've heard about everything that's happened recently,” he said, concern evident in his strained voice. “You've endured far too much. Now that you're married to Nathaniel, he has a responsibility to treat you properly. Don't worry. I'll make sure nobody takes advantage of you again.” Something tightened behind my nose. For the first time in years—or perhaps for the first time since I had lost my memories—I felt dangerously close to tears. “You don't have to worry about me, Grandpa. I'm all right.” His voice immediately softened. “That's what breaks my heart, Rora. You were born into a wealthy family, yet look at what you've been through. You were taken away as a child, only to come home and discover that your parents had already given another girl the love and attention that should have been yours.” He paused. “And Nathaniel…” His voice became heavier. “You gave that man everything. You studied the massage techniques he preferred so you could ease his pain. You traveled from place to place looking for rare tea sets because you knew he liked them. When he was hospitalized, you stayed awake for days taking care of him. Even when his mother passed away, you handled the funeral arrangements yourself because you didn't want him burdened with anything else.” I stared at the ceiling. “And what did he give you in return?” Grandpa continued bitterly. “He treated you as though you were nothing. One day, he'll understand exactly what he threw away, and when he does, he'll regret it.” I couldn't remember any of those things. Not the massages. Not the tea sets. Not the sleepless nights. Not the funeral. Yet hearing Grandpa describe them made my chest ache painfully, as though some forgotten part of me recognized every sacrifice. “Grandpa has to go now,” he said eventually. “But remember this, Rora. If you ever need anything, call me. No matter what it is, I'll come.” The call ended. A few minutes later, the hospital door opened. Nathaniel walked inside. He looked exactly as he always did: perfectly groomed, dressed in an expensive suit, his expression controlled and his eyes carrying that familiar sense of distance. His gaze settled on me. “So, let me understand this,” he said coldly. “You had an allergic reaction, nearly died, and then immediately went crying to my grandfather.” I frowned. He stepped closer. “First you threaten suicide whenever you want attention, and now you've decided to use Grandpa instead. Is that your newest way of trying to make me care?” I wanted to explain what had happened, but the contempt in his eyes made me hesitate. “I wasn't trying to hurt myself,” I said quietly. “I just forgot that I'm allergic to peanuts.” His eyebrows lifted. “You forgot?” He gave a humorless laugh. “What's next, Adeline? Are you going to tell me you've forgotten your own name, too?”

I didn't answer him. There was nothing I could say. I had forgotten that version of myself—the desperate, obedient Adeline who had loved Nathaniel so deeply that she had tried every possible way to make him love her back. I no longer remembered the nights she had cried herself to sleep, quietly begging for a glance, a kind word, or even the smallest smile. The love she had carried for him had once consumed her entire life, until it had become something poisonous. Now, all that remained was silence. Perhaps Grandpa's call was the only reason Nathaniel stayed at the hospital at all. He seemed determined to fulfill his grandfather's request to “take care” of me, though the phrase was almost laughable. He didn't notice when blood began flowing backward through my IV. When I accidentally scalded my hand while bathing, his reaction was barely more than a glance. Even when I pressed the call button while struggling to breathe, his first concern was directed toward his assistant. “Has Camille's burn been treated yet? If it has, send her the best scar ointment we can find.” That was the kind of care Nathaniel gave me. Even though I no longer loved him, something heavy still settled over my chest whenever I witnessed it. I couldn't help wondering how the Adeline from before had survived six years of this. How had she continued waking up every morning, loving a man who gave her nothing, only to spend another night hoping that tomorrow might be different? She had given him everything she had. He had given her nothing in return. Outside the hospital window, leaves drifted lazily through the afternoon air. I suddenly remembered the final sentence in my diary: If the day ever comes when I stop loving you, it will be because my heart has already died. Looking back now, I understood what those words really meant. The Adeline who had written them had probably disappeared long ago, little by little, across countless nights when Nathaniel ignored her, rejected her, and left her alone with the hope that he might eventually care. By the time I lost my memories, perhaps there wasn't much of her left to lose. When the day of my discharge arrived, the ward was completely empty. I wasn't surprised. Nathaniel had gone to see Camille again. During the six years of our marriage, I could probably count on one hand the number of days he had willingly stayed beside me. I no longer expected him to suddenly change, so I simply kept to myself and waited for the immigration paperwork to be completed. While I waited, Camille's Instagram stories kept appearing on my feed. She was traveling through some private island resort, posting photographs of breathtaking sunsets at the Bay Hotel. Nathaniel appeared in almost every picture. He smiled at her with a warmth I had once spent years dreaming of receiving. In one of the latest photos, they stood at the foot of a snow-covered mountain. Nathaniel was carefully wrapping a scarf around Camille's neck, his long fingers adjusting the fabric while his eyes rested on her with unmistakable tenderness. Camille leaned against him, laughing as though she had never known a day of unhappiness. The caption read: He promised to show me the world. I scrolled past it without feeling the urge to cry. They looked like strangers. For a moment, however, I wondered whether I had ever looked at Nathaniel the way Camille looked at him. More importantly, had he ever looked at me with even a fraction of that same warmth? I couldn't remember. Maybe that was a blessing. ** Three days later, the immigration office finally contacted me. My passport and visa were ready. I went directly to the law firm afterward and collected the divorce agreement along with the legal documents ending my relationship with the Prescott family. Everything I needed to leave was finally in my possession. I folded the documents carefully, placed them deep inside my bag, and zipped my jacket closed. For the first time since waking up without my memories, I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Then my phone vibrated. Camille. I opened the message. Can we talk, sister? I replied, About what? Her response came quickly. You've been Mrs. Sterling for six years. Don't you think it's time you gave the title back to me? A cold smile touched my lips. You already have it. I put my phone away and continued walking. I didn't bother looking back. When I arrived at the villa, I pushed open the front door, only to notice that the motion-sensor light hadn't switched on. I frowned and reached toward the wall for the light switch. Before my fingers could find it, something struck the back of my head. Pain exploded through my skull. I vaguely heard Camille speaking to someone nearby, but the voices quickly became distant. Then everything went black. When I woke, freezing wind was tearing across my face. My eyes flew open. For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I was seeing. Then I looked down. My wrists were tied with thick rope, and my body was suspended over the edge of a cliff. My legs hung over empty space, with nothing beneath them except jagged rocks far below. I turned my head and saw Camille hanging several feet away. Her face had gone completely pale. A man stood nearby with a cigarette between his lips. When he noticed I was awake, he gave me a crooked smile. “Finally awake? Don't worry. Your husband will be here soon.” I swallowed hard and tried to control my breathing. My hands were shaking so badly that I was terrified the rope might slip from whatever was holding it. Then the distant roar of engines grew louder. Several black SUVs came racing toward the cliff before stopping sharply near the edge. The doors opened. Nathaniel stepped out. He was wearing a black trench coat, his face hard and expressionless. Even from where I hung, his presence seemed to dominate the entire area. He looked toward the kidnappers. “Here’s your money. Let them go.” The kidnapper checked the cash before grinning. “As expected of President Sterling. Straight to business.” He gestured toward his men. “We've delivered both of them. What happens next is your problem.” Within moments, the kidnappers disappeared. The cliff fell into chaos. Loose stones rolled beneath us, and the ropes groaned under our weight. “Nathaniel!” Camille's frightened cry pierced the wind. “Please, I'm terrified! Get me out of here!” One of the bodyguards inspected the ropes, his expression growing grim. “Mr. Sterling, these ropes aren't going to hold much longer. We have enough time to pull up only one person at a time.” Nathaniel didn't hesitate. He immediately moved toward Camille. I tightened my fingers around the rope. I was still hanging there. Still in danger. Yet as I watched him choose her without even looking in my direction, a strange thought crossed my mind. If I fell, would anyone even care? Then another set of headlights appeared. My parents had arrived. The moment they climbed out of the car, my mother's terrified voice rang across the cliff. “Camille!” She rushed forward. “Get Camille up first! Hurry! She can't handle this kind of stress!” My father followed close behind. “Watch the rope! Don't pull too quickly. Be careful with her!” Camille began sobbing. “Mom! Dad! Nathaniel! I'm scared! Please, don't let me fall!” Nathaniel's entire demeanor softened. “I've got you, Camille. Keep your eyes on me, all right? Don't look down. We're bringing you up now.” “I can't hold on much longer!” she cried. “My hands hurt. Please, Nathaniel, hurry!” “Just hold on a little longer,” he told her gently. “You're going to be fine. I promise I won't let anything happen to you.” My mother continued shouting instructions. “Pull harder! Don't stop! Hold on, sweetheart! Mommy's here!” Not one of them said my name. Not once. I remained suspended beside Camille, the rope digging painfully into my wrists while my trembling arms slowly lost their strength. For a moment, I wondered whether they had simply forgotten that I was there. Then the rope above me gave a terrible creak. I looked up. A sharp snapping sound split through the howling wind. “Wait!” one of the bodyguards shouted. But there was no time. The rope suddenly jerked violently. Then it broke. My body dropped. The rocks beneath my feet broke loose and cascaded down the cliff with me as the wind screamed in my ears. My stomach lurched as the ground vanished completely beneath me. So this was how it ended? After everything, was this really where my life was supposed to stop?