The Day My Husband Let Me Vanish in the Crowd

Three years into our marriage, my husband, Felix Shaw, still didn’t recognize me.

He could remember the world, but not my face.

When I changed my hairstyle, he’d ask, “Miss, who are you looking for?”

When I changed my clothes, he’d think I was the family’s new maid.

On our anniversary, I was trapped in a collapsed mine with his employees.

In the darkness, I groped my way to him and told him I was Sarah Grant.

But he pushed me away: “Stop pretending! My wife isn’t here at all.”

The rescue team dug for three days and three nights before finally getting me out.

That night, at the celebration banquet, Felix Shaw toasted: “Thank you, everyone! No one was injured.”

He’d completely forgotten about me, still lying in the hospital.

From then on, I wore the same color clothes, had the same hairstyle, and used the same perfume, just so Felix Shaw could recognize me.

But every time he saw me, Felix Shaw still treated me like a stranger.

I thought it was God’s punishment. But on the day I flew abroad to celebrate Felix Shaw’s birthday, I saw him push through the crowd and embrace a girl with unerring precision.

It turned out that he couldn’t remember my face simply because I wasn’t the one he loved.

In that case, let’s just let each other forget each other.

——

As soon as I turned around, I was surrounded by several foreign police officers.

They thought I was a wanted criminal.

But my broken French only made their faces even more stern.

I was forced to my knees.

In panic, I instinctively looked towards Felix Shaw, who was not far away.

“Felix Shaw! Help me! They’ve got the wrong person!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs.

He looked over, his eyes sweeping across my face.

Then, as if he were looking at a stranger, he calmly looked away.

“I don’t know her.”

Those were the coldest words I’ve ever heard in my life.

Fifteen days. In the dark interrogation room and the icy cold of the cell, I counted the clocks for 360 hours.

It wasn’t until a DNA comparison report finally cleared me of all charges.

I dragged my exhausted body out of the police station, only to be greeted not by Felix Shaw but by his secretary.

Henry Chen adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone full of reproach: “Miss Grant, what are you doing? Did you know that Mr. Shaw waited for you at the airport for two whole hours?”

The remaining warmth in my heart completely cooled in the cold wind of a foreign country.

On the day I returned home, as soon as I exited the gate, I was surrounded by countless flashes of light and microphones.

My imprisonment abroad had become a public scandal.

After finally escaping the encirclement and returning home, Felix Shaw’s first words were reproach.

“How many times have I told you to wear a white coat outside? Why didn’t you listen?”

He frowned, his tone like he was scolding an ignorant child. “You knew I’m face-blind and couldn’t tell a woman’s face apart.”

I clenched my fists. He flipped through another page and, without even looking up, issued his second directive: “The PR department has prepared a draft; a press conference will be held tomorrow.”

“Go clarify and apologize to the public.”

Apologize?

Who am I apologizing for? For Felix Shaw’s coldness and callousness, or for his supposed “face blindness”?

I looked at his impassive face and asked softly, “Who was that girl you were hugging at the airport?”

His hands paused from flipping through the documents, a rare stiffness crossing his face.

After a few seconds, he spoke: “There were so many people there, I thought it was you.”

I almost laughed out loud.

That girl that day wore a bright, eye-catching red dress and had long, wavy perms, a look I’d never worn before.