The Wife He Forgot to Love

The diagnosis was Alzheimer's. The result was a cruel form of time travel. Elijah Henson's memory had regressed to his eighteenth year, and in doing so, he had erased me completely.

I was wiping his face with a warm towel when he recoiled, frowning deeply. He stared at me with the cold, guarded eyes of a stranger.

"Who are you? Why are you in my house?"

A suffocating pressure expanded in my chest. I swallowed the rising bitterness and forced a smile.

"Elijah, I'm your wife."

His scowl deepened. "Impossible. Why would I ever marry a woman like you?"

He turned toward the window, his voice softening with a tenderness I hadn't heard in years. "My wife can only be Amy Gray. No one else is worthy of standing by my side."

Amy Gray. The one that got away. The unblemished love of his youth that poverty had forced him to leave behind.

Half a lifetime by his side, and I couldn't compete with a ghost.

Fine. If that's the reality he chooses, he can have it. I'll hand this mess over to her.

——

Before I could process the sting, he spoke again, voice dripping with disgust.

"Why are you making such a scene? Give up. Even if I stay single forever, I wouldn't marry you."

He slapped my hand away and marched toward the bathroom.

I followed. Every step felt like walking on blades.

He froze before the mirror. Blinked. Leaned closer, scrutinizing his reflection—the frost at his temples, the deep crow's feet. Handsome, yes, but not the twenty-year-old in his mind.

A stranger.

His fists clenched, face flushing crimson.

"I should be with Amy right now. The prime of my life... we should be married. We should have a warm home. You ruined everything!"

All strength drained from my legs. Decades of memories crashed over me.

Young Elijah was a man of few words. I thought it was his nature, so I learned patience.

Middle-aged Elijah was consumed by work. I never complained—just kept his dinner warm, drew his bath.

Old Elijah sat with me in silence. I was naive enough to think it was peace.

But the truth shattered me: he wasn't silent because he had nothing to say. He was silent because he didn't want to talk to me.

A bone-deep exhaustion settled into my marrow.

"Since your heart is set on Amy Gray," I said, my voice eerily calm, "I'll find her. Bring her here to keep you company. Consider your wish granted."

I threw a few essentials into a bag and headed for the door.

At the foot of the stairs, my son and daughter-in-law leaned against the railing, sneering.

"Mom, are you seriously going to find this Amy woman?" My daughter-in-law's voice dripped with mockery. "You used to get jealous if Dad even said hello to a female colleague. Since when did you become so generous?"

My son scoffed. "Who knows what her game is? Dad's sick, and instead of taking care of him, she's just making a fuss."