My Husband Lost His Memories of Our Love

Until New Year’s Eve, Sebastian still didn’t return. As the hours ticked by, the emptiness in the house grew unbearable, and Abigail made another call.

This time, when she was about to give up, he answered.

“Hello, what’s the matter?” His voice was cold, impatient, as if her call was an inconvenience.

Abigail’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to speak softly. “Sebastian, can we celebrate the New Year together today?”

A beat of silence followed, then his tone turned sharper. “Did I tell you not to call me that again? I find it disgusting. And New Year’s Eve? It’s just part of an agreement. Don’t take it seriously.”

The dull ache in her chest sharpened, piercing her like a knife. She swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill.

“Sebastian, I—”

Before she could say more, a cheerful voice interrupted. Gabriella’s voice, bright and carefree, was unmistakable.

“Sebastian, the fireworks are starting! Come quickly!”

“Okay,” he responded, his tone so gentle it was unrecognizable from the one he’d just used with her.

And then, without another word, the call ended.

Abigail sat frozen, the phone still in her hand. Outside, the sound of fireworks erupted, echoing through the quiet of the house. She walked to the balcony, her gaze blank as she looked up at the sky.

The fireworks were just as dazzling as ever, their vibrant colors painting the night. But to her, they felt gray and lifeless, drained of all their beauty.

The thought of Sebastian being with someone else, cherishing someone else, tore at her heart. It was as if every breath came with a fresh wound, stabbing deeper and deeper until the pain became unbearable.

After midnight, her phone buzzed unexpectedly. It was an email notification. She glanced at the sender and froze.

It was from Sebastian.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the email. Inside was a video.

When she clicked play, his face appeared on the screen.

“Abigail, Abby, baby, my wife,” he began, his voice tender and affectionate. “This is the third year we’ve been together. While recording this, I realized just how much more I’ve grown to love you—and I know I’ll keep loving you even more in the future.”

He chuckled softly, his dark eyes sparkling with emotion. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about wanting to travel and get married. Because of my family, I haven’t been able to give you a proper wedding yet. But next year, on our anniversary, let’s make it happen, okay? I’ve already started planning it.”

His smile deepened, pure happiness lighting up his face. It was a version of him she hadn’t seen in so long—a version she thought she’d lost forever.

The video ended, but Abigail sat motionless, unable to process what she’d just seen. She replayed it, again and again, clinging to his words and the warmth in his gaze.

But before she could fully absorb the bittersweet emotions welling inside her, her phone buzzed again.

It was another video.

This time, as she opened it, her world shattered anew.

The screen showed Sebastian and Gabriella. He was wrapping a scarf around her neck with the utmost care, his eyes filled with unmistakable tenderness—as if she were the only person who mattered in the world.

Gabriella reached up, gently stopping him. “Sebastian, isn’t this the scarf Abigail knitted for you? I shouldn’t wear it—it wouldn’t be right.”

Abigail’s eyes darted to the scarf, and her breath caught in her throat. It was the one she had painstakingly knitted for Sebastian on their second anniversary.

Abigail’s mind spiraled as she stared at the paused video. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, trembling.

She pressed play again.

The memory of Sebastian’s reaction when she gave him the scarf resurfaced vividly. His smile had been radiant, his joy uncontainable.

“Abby, I like it very much,” he had said, immediately wrapping it around his neck. “I’ll definitely cherish it.”

That moment had felt like a promise, one of countless assurances of their love.

But now, in the video, his words cut through her like shards of glass.

“Don’t be in a bad mood,” Sebastian said softly to Gabriella. “Wear it obediently. You’ll be cold later.”

He adjusted the scarf around her neck with a tenderness that was once hers. “If Gabriella doesn’t like it, you can do whatever you want with this scarf. But for now, you must wear it.”

Abigail’s heart clenched as she watched him hand over the scarf she had painstakingly knitted—a symbol of her love—and tell Gabriella she could treat it however she wished.

The video ended abruptly, leaving her staring at the empty screen, her chest tightening with unbearable pain.

Before she could process the hurt, another notification lit up her phone. It was a text message from an unknown number.

With trembling hands, she opened it.

The words hit her like a thunderclap:

"Sebastian only likes me now. He hates you so much. If you ask me, you should give up your position as soon as possible."