He Missed Me When I Was Gone

I rushed out to give it to him, but was struck by an oncoming car. When I regained consciousness, strange memories flooded my mind. For two years, the fake Edna had been living in my body. In these memories, Hector had spent time with the fake Edna—eating, watching movies, and traveling together. He no longer claimed to be too busy, nor did he ask her to be more sensible.

On her birthday, Hector booked an entire amusement park and surprised her with a doll costume, presenting a carefully prepared gift. Fireworks lit up the sky all night, nearly illuminating the entire evening. They had even planned a trip to Paris, where Hector promised to give her a beloved princess pumpkin carriage and castle.

The night before their departure, the fake Edna drank too much and stumbled down the stairs. The following day, it was me—Edna—who woke up in the hospital, not the version Edna Hector had been with.

Less than two weeks passed before Hector began to notice something was wrong. He asked, "Who are you?"

"Eds used to love having a lively home, always playing music, but for the past two weeks, the speakers have gathered dust. She couldn’t handle spicy food, mixing chili sauce with everything. And most importantly, Eds always cared deeply about her job at the piano store. Yet, you suddenly resigned three days ago and interviewed for a lab assistant position."

"Eds once said she didn't like doing experiments. She preferred music, photography, and romantic things—not boring research."

"You’re not Eds, so who are you?"

Hector’s eyes bore into me, fierce and searching, as if he wanted to see my soul through my face. I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Hector, I am Eds!"

I didn’t know how to explain the past two years to him. I could feel that I was her, but at the same time, I wasn’t her.

Eventually, Hector took me to see a doctor. He left no stone unturned, visiting specialists in Neurology, Psychiatry, and Psychology. The diagnosis was that I had a split personality: the primary personality had returned, and the secondary one had disappeared.

That was the first time I saw Hector's eyes reddened. He asked the doctor in a trembling voice, "Will she come back?"

"No, she won’t."

Hector's body swayed slightly, and he gripped the table for support, asking, "No, there’s still a chance?"

"Unless the primary personality disappears, or chooses to give up."

Give up? Hector tilted his head and locked eyes with me, his expression one I’ll never forget. It was sinister, and paranoid, yet there was a glimmer of hope that could not be ignored.

I started to realize that everything might be different after all. At first, I hadn’t cared much. Whether the main personality or the second one, it was still Edna. What did it matter? Hector loved Edna for who she was, and I believed that I could do the same things she did.

But in the two years I’d been absent, the love between "me" and Hector had replayed in my mind, fueling my hope for the future. However, I failed to see that she and I were, in the end, two separate souls—something Hector could tell clearly.

Hector no longer called me Eds; he called me Edna, or sometimes, just "Hey." Under the same roof, he barely acknowledged my presence.

In the mornings, I would make breakfast and place it on the table, but he would glance at it and walk away. In the evenings, he wouldn’t come home for dinner, even when I sent him a message saying I had prepared his favorite dishes. However, he never stayed out all night.

I searched my memories and realized that the fake Edna had once said to him, "Hector, I don’t like it when you come home late. I worry about you." Because of that, no matter how busy he was, Hector always made sure to come back before 10 PM, and whenever he went on a business trip, he would send me a message ahead of time.