She Forgets Me but Remembers Her First Love

My wife, Giselle Stone, has severe face blindness. She can't remember anyone's looks, including mine.

It's already a norm for her to chat with me animatedly one moment, then her illness kicks in, resulting in her mistaking me as a stranger the next.

Giselle screams at the top of her lungs as she fights with me over the steering wheel, causing me to crash the car at the side of the road.

As I lie in my puddle of blood, I beg her in a quivering tone to call 911.

But Giselle steps over my blood as she bolts over to the police.

"Officer, this man is a human trafficker! I don't know him! Please arrest him!"

Thank goodness I've already developed the habit of bringing my marriage license and Giselle's medical records with me all the time over the years.

After clearing the misunderstanding with the police, I deal with the damages and get my injuries treated before going home.

That's when Giselle blocks me at the front door while glaring at me vigilantly.

"Why are you here again? I don't know you! Please leave right now!"

When I'm about to explain, Giselle's childhood friend, Jasper Langley, steps out and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"He's your husband, Giselle. Calm down now."

As I watch the pair hugging each other, I suddenly let out a soft chuckle.

We've been married for three years, and yet this is the 677th time Giselle doesn't recognize me.

The thing is, she can recognize Jasper every time and always listens to him.

In that case, I might as well let Jasper take care of her from now on.

"You're not my husband," Giselle Stone said. "Leslie isn't home yet. I don't know you. Just… leave!"

But I was right here in front of her. Regardless of how insignificant the change was, whether it was a different shirt or getting a new scar, she would easily fail to recognize me.

Just like earlier this afternoon, she accused me of being a human trafficker. When the police read the marriage certificate I presented, he looked awkward. "Ma'am, he's indeed your husband."

Giselle looked at me bewilderedly, then checked the photo on my ID again, perplexed. "I-I don't know him, though. He's not Leslie."

As she spoke, she stumbled backward, ready to flee. "I'm going to find my husband."

Honestly, I had gotten used to it. She had a condition, and it was only natural that she was cautious of everyone.

Yet, now, she was curling up against Jasper Langley's arms, her hands clutching his clothes. "Don't go, Jasper. You're the only one I recognize…"

So, she didn't have total face blindness. She could recognize Jasper. Out of everyone, he was the one she trusted and depended on, not me.

"Don't mind us, Leslie."

Jasper placed a hand on Giselle's shoulder and smirked. "Ever since her condition worsened, I've become the only person she trusts. I mean, we did grow up together. I hope you won't get jealous over…"

Before he finished, I walked past them. I could feel an arm reaching out, trying to hold onto my sleeve, but I didn't turn back around.

Frankly, Giselle and I should never have crossed paths. She was the heiress of a family of renowned doctors, while I was just a grunt in the fire department.

One lived a life of comfort and privilege, treated like royalty, while the other was covered in mud, crawling through ashes for a living.

Three years ago, a shopping mall caught fire. Everyone was running for the exits, but Giselle went the wrong way and ended up trapped in the flames.

When I carried her out through the thick smoke, she was trembling like a leaf. She kept asking who I was and where I was taking her. Her hands clutched onto me so tightly that she left long scratches on my skin.

Later, when the Stone family found me, I learned that she suffered from a severe case of prosopagnosia, commonly known as face blindness.

They saw that I was over six feet tall, strong, and that I had saved their precious daughter. So, they offered to pay for my younger sister's bone cancer treatment, on the condition that I marry Giselle.

To put it simply, I was hired as both her caretaker and her bodyguard.

But the treatment of my sister, Winnie Underwood, was something I couldn't afford, so whether I liked it or not, this marriage had been a transaction from the very beginning.

There was nothing to be sad over, really. I was just Giselle's caretaker and bodyguard.

My stomach was growling so badly that I felt dizzy. I went to the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat, when I froze at the almost-empty fridge door.

Where were my sticky notes?

After Giselle's condition flared, she would often feel anxious. She wouldn't know where she was or who the people around her were. Hence, every time I left home, I would stick a note on the fridge door.

I wrote what she should eat for lunch, which shelf the food was on, and how long to heat it in the microwave. I would also write, "It's me, your husband. Don't be afraid. I'm on duty today. Be home by 8:00 pm."

Whenever she panicked and searched around the apartment in a daze, seeing that note was the only thing that could put her mind at ease. For the past three years, I had written hundreds of them.

Before this, Giselle had thoughtfully kept all the notes in a small box. Now, every single one of them had been crumpled into a ball and thrown away with the kitchen waste.

A new sticky note was pressed onto the fridge door. The handwriting was unfamiliar and bold. "From now on, just ask me if you need anything. I'm the only one who'd never hurt you."

Signed off by Jasper.

Did he think I was dead, saying something like that to my wife while claiming his place so brazenly, in my very own home?

I clenched the note in my hand and stormed out of the kitchen, ready to confront him. The moment I stepped into the living room, I was stopped dead in my tracks.

Giselle sat on the couch, her face stained with tears. Jasper sat beside her, closer than I wanted to see.