My Husband Lost His Memories of Our Love

Abigail tossed the divorce agreement onto the coffee table, her voice cold and ambiguous as she muttered, "Okay."

Sebastian stared at the document for a moment, frozen. He picked it up, flipped it open, and his eyes immediately landed on the bold words at the top: Divorce Agreement. He scanned through it repeatedly, as if unable to believe what he was reading. When he reached the section on property, his eyes widened in disbelief. "You don’t want anything?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Abigail didn’t want nothing—just what was hers. Her own money. Nothing more from Sebastian. She had no desire to explain herself and simply replied, "Sign it, quickly."

Her words, laced with impatience and a clear desire to be rid of him, ignited a flicker of rage in Sebastian. He grabbed the pen, his grip tight and angry, and signed his name on the paper.

Though his heart ached as if it were breaking into pieces, he forced his voice to remain steady, unwilling to show weakness. "You don’t want anything? Don’t come crawling back for favors that aren’t yours in the future!"

After signing, he slammed the pen onto the table with frustration, his face contorted in pain. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the villa, suppressing the ache in his chest.

Abigail watched him leave, her expression unreadable. She took her share of the property, placed it in a suitcase, and made her way upstairs to pack her belongings.

There wasn’t much to pack; most of her things had been gifts from Sebastian, and she hadn’t bought many items herself. It was his insistence that she wear the things he bought her, a control she had learned to live with.

As she finished packing, her phone rang. It was the institute, informing her that her plane ticket was scheduled for 1 p.m. the day after tomorrow.

For the next two days, Sebastian didn’t return, nor did he push her to move out. The silence between them allowed her a sense of relief—she could finally breathe.

The day before she was to leave, her phone rang again. It was her college class monitor. "Abby, we’re having a class reunion tomorrow. Don’t forget to come."

Abigail hesitated for a moment. Tomorrow was the day she was leaving, and there was no time. She declined politely, "I can’t, I have something to do."

But her classmate’s response surprised her. "Aren’t you coming? Sebastian is coming, too. Why are you both coming but not together?"

Abigail froze, stunned by the news. She hadn’t expected him to attend, but it had nothing to do with her anymore. She forced a faint smile, offering another excuse. "I have something to handle," she said before quickly ending the call.

On the day she left, Abigail dug up the wish bottle from the yard. It was something she and Sebastian had buried together the day they moved into the house. Each of them had buried one, neither knowing the other’s wish.

Now, as she held her own bottle, she read the words she had written: I hope Abigail and Sebastian can grow old together, and I hope he can be healthy forever.

A bittersweet ache tugged at her heart. That wish would never come true—not for them. With a deep sigh, she tossed the bottle into the trash can, as if erasing the past with a single motion.

At 11 a.m., she left the house, suitcase in tow, leaving behind everything, even the memories of the two years she had spent there. As she stepped outside, she paused for a moment, glancing back at the place where she had once been happy. For three seconds, she stood still, then turned away, resolute.

By 12:30 p.m., she was at the airport, and the plane was ready for takeoff.

As soon as she boarded, her phone began vibrating incessantly. She checked the screen—dozens of messages from Sebastian. Without hesitation, she powered off her phone, removed the SIM card, and slipped it into her bag. Silence.

Two hours later, the plane landed. When she exited the airport, she was greeted by the director of the institute, a familiar face—her former university mentor, now the director of the very institute she was joining.

"Abigail, welcome to Luna Isle," the director said warmly.

Abigail smiled faintly, giving a brief hug. The director had been the first person to think of her when this project came up, and now she was here, far from the life she had left behind.

Once in the car, the director spoke again, a smile in her voice. "Our research this time is strictly confidential. Our whereabouts must remain a secret. For now, it’s still fine, but you should call Sebastian, or he might come looking for you."