When My Husband Remembered Everyone But Me

“Your stomach can't handle alcohol! Last time you had one sip and ended up in the hospital for three days.”

He snatched the glass away, his face tight with worry.

Emily looked disappointed, but a smile lingered at the corner of her mouth.

“Come on, Amber. Emily even apologized. Are you satisfied now?”

“She just got back, and you nearly sent her to the hospital.”

“I didn't forget on purpose. You said it yourself, it's my condition.”

Irvin frowned, waiting for me to back down.

He didn't expect me to turn and walk away in silence.

He froze, then followed me out.

I slowed my steps deliberately.

Behind me, Emily let out a few soft coughs. Irvin stopped.

He hesitated, then ran back to her.

“Amber, Emily caught a chill. I need to check on her.”

“And she's due for her medication right now. She can never remember which ones to take.”

“Go home and rest.”

The last shred of hope in me died.

My phone rang.

It was the specialist from the neurological hospital.

“Ms. Pruitt, your husband's amnesia hasn't improved. In fact, it may have worsened.”

I stared at Irvin's retreating back, my head full of how perfectly he remembered every detail about Emily.

I almost laughed. I told the doctor：

“Cancel all his remaining sessions. He doesn't need treatment anymore.”

So the person he couldn't remember—it was only ever me.

More treatment wouldn't change that. It was never his illness that needed curing. I was the one who needed to leave.

The moment I stepped through the front door, the air was thick with lavender.

The doctor had said lavender calms the nerves and strengthens memory.

So every morning I got up early and went to the flower market to pick out the freshest stems to bring home.

Now the heavy sweetness only made me nauseous.

I looked around the room. Every wall was covered in sticky notes, rows and rows of them, mocking every last bit of devotion I'd poured into this marriage.

My eyes burned. I started tearing them down, one by one.

Mid-step, my foot landed on something slick. I lost my balance and went down hard, my belly hitting the floor.

Pain ripped through me, and blood began seeping between my legs.

The glass marble that had caused it was still rolling across the floor.

I'd bought those marbles for Irvin's memory exercises. I'd been in a rush that morning and hadn't put them away.

I reached for my phone, but the pain doubled me over and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The wall clock chimed three times.

Three o'clock. Irvin had promised to take me to the prenatal clinic.

I fixed my eyes on the door, praying he'd come through it, pick me up, and get me to the hospital.

Nothing. No sound, no movement. He'd forgotten again.

The blood on the floor had pooled into a small dark puddle.

I dragged myself forward, found my phone, and called my emergency contact. Irvin.

It rang ten times. He didn't answer.

On the eleventh try, someone finally picked up.

It was Emily's voice.

“Oh, Amber! Irvin's with me at the amusement park! He set this up three days before I even flew back!”

“I can't do the pirate ship with my heart, so he's riding it for me—he won't be off for a bit. He'll call you back later!”

Her voice was bright, giddy, half-drowned by the noise of the crowd around her.

It swallowed my faint cry for help completely.

The blood loss was pulling the world dark at the edges.

My phone rang again and I grabbed it, a surge of desperate hope.

“Ms. Pruitt, the prenatal appointment you and your husband scheduled is about to expire. Will you still be coming in today?”

My heart sank. The last of my strength was draining away with the blood.

“My baby—something's wrong. Please, send a doctor to me……”

The words left my mouth, and the world went dark.

I dreamed a long dream.