My Husband Lost His Memories of Our Love

In truth, Gabriella’s words were not entirely unfounded. Abigail found herself hesitating, questioning whether her persistence still held any meaning.

Is he really still the same person?

She had grown accustomed to Sebastian’s late nights, a change that both shocked and numbed her. Was it really that easy to develop a habit? And just as easily, could she forget it all?

The day Gabriella brought Sebastian back, Abigail was in the flower house, watering the plants. This space hadn’t been there before—Sebastian had built it for her after noticing how much she loved flowers.

In her hands, she cradled a flowerpot containing the ashes of her aborted child. When the child had first come into her life, she and Sebastian had been full of hope. They had even chosen names—Madeline if it was a girl, Andrew if it was a boy.

But things hadn’t turned out as they hoped. After the loss, Abigail had taken the ashes and buried them in the soil, planting flowers on top, hoping that her child could somehow be reborn in another form.

Lost in thought, she was jolted by the sound of a door closing. Thinking it was Sebastian returning, she put the flowerpot down and went to the living room, only to find it empty. She heard movement upstairs and made her way toward it.

As she approached the half-open door to the master bedroom, she froze. Through the crack, she saw Sebastian lying on the bed, and Gabriella bent over him, kissing him passionately.

Just as Abigail thought Gabriella had initiated the kiss, she saw Sebastian’s hand pull the back of Gabriella’s head, pressing her deeper.

Abigail’s face drained of color in an instant. The shock hit her like a physical blow, and her head buzzed with the force of it. Before they could go any further, her legs gave way, and she stumbled out of the villa, her steps unsteady and frantic.

She ran without thinking, her body moving on pure instinct, until her legs could carry her no longer. She bent over, supporting herself with her hands on her knees, a single tear slipping down her cheek without warning.

She couldn’t hold on anymore.

Falling to the ground, she clutched her chest, trying to ease the unbearable ache that felt like her heart was being torn apart. But nothing worked—the pain only deepened, and the tears flowed uncontrollably, as if they were a floodgate opened wide.

In less than a month, she had experienced pain she hadn’t felt in the past three years. She was done. She no longer had any expectations.

We’re no longer on the same path. It’s better to end it now.

Wiping her tears away, she shakily pulled out her phone, dialing a number with trembling hands. "Director, I’ve made up my mind. I want to participate in that project."

Her decision was met with enthusiasm on the other end, and Abigail felt a strange sense of relief.

She didn’t return to the villa that night. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing or hearing anything that would shatter her further.

The next morning, she was awakened by Sebastian’s call. Without even glancing at the screen, she answered, only recognizing his voice when he spoke sharply.

"Are you out all night? If you don’t want to stay at home, then divorce me."

Abigail’s voice was cold and even. "I’ll be back soon."

His words hung in the air, but it was her icy tone that left him speechless. He wanted to say something, but she had already hung up. His frustration grew, though he couldn’t pinpoint where it stemmed from.

After hanging up, Abigail checked out of the hotel and made her way back to the villa.

When she returned, she found Sebastian and Gabriella having breakfast together. Without a word, she headed upstairs, her silence heavy in the air.

As she reached the staircase, Sebastian called out, "Abigail, where are you going? Don’t run off. Wash the dishes."