When My Husband Remembered Everyone But Me

I tugged at my clothes.

“Too ugly.”

“A little, yeah.”

So he knew all along.

“Even without these, I can remember everything about you.”

Irvin smiled and kissed the top of my head.

While he was in the shower, I started packing. I looked around—the apartment was sparse and immaculate, no warmth of daily life, no trace of me anywhere.

The doctors had said other people's clutter could interfere with his focus.

For five years, my closet held nothing but white shirts.

I'd never bought jewelry or makeup I liked.

The entire home contained his belongings and medical equipment. That was it.

It seemed like my leaving wouldn't change a thing.

It took me no time at all to fill one small backpack.

I set it in the corner.

Irvin came out of the bathroom and noticed nothing.

That night in bed, he held me tight.

His warm breath spilled across the back of my neck.

This used to be the part of the day I treasured most, the only time I could relax and feel close to him.

Now it made me sick.

But I couldn't break free of his arms.

I lay awake all night, turning and turning.

The next morning, Irvin went out.

I had just slung the backpack over my shoulder and stepped through the door when I came face to face with Emily.

Without Irvin around, her expression was pure provocation.

“I'm here to pick something up for Irvin.”

I walked straight past her.

“Amber. Don't you want to know the truth about his amnesia?”

I stopped. Stared at her.

Emily gave a soft smile：

“Does Irvin really have a memory disorder? Honestly, I have no idea.”

“But your anniversary—the night he stood you up? My campus lost power. He was worried I'd be scared, so he stayed on the phone with me all night long. Didn't hang up until he could hear me sleeping.”

The air locked in my chest.

That night, I waited until the restaurant closed. Irvin never came.

Every time I called, the line was busy.

I was afraid he'd be hungry, so I bought a cake and went home to wait.

At three in the morning, the cake had melted. He walked in.

I was starving and barely awake.

All he gave me was one line：

“Sorry. I forgot again.”

Emily examined her nails.

“The day you were having the baby, I lost a dare and texted him‘There's been an avalanche, come save me’.”

“All my friends were betting he'd never believe it, that he'd never actually come.”

“He booked the earliest flight to Switzerland. Once he confirmed I was fine, he stayed and went skiing with me for three days.”

Those three days after I lost the baby, I couldn't reach Irvin at all.

I was terrified something would happen to him—that he'd forget where he was, forget how to get back—so I called the police and searched the city on legs that could barely hold me.

When he finally showed up, he was devastated.

He said he'd forgotten, that he'd flown to Switzerland for a client meeting and couldn't make it back in time.

My legs gave out. I nearly collapsed.

Emily laughed once, then pulled out dozens of boarding passes.

“These are from every time Irvin flew out to see me over the past five years.”

“My period every month? He remembered the date better than I did. Sometimes he'd fly out just to take care of me.”

I stared at those boarding passes, my eyes burning red.

Emily's face was pale, her voice suddenly sharp and climbing.

“I'll spell it out for you—I'm the one who's always been in his heart.”

“From the very beginning, every single thing he managed to remember was about me.”

Something vicious flashed across her face, and she lunged and closed her hands around my throat.

“I'm back now. You were never worth remembering. You should've gotten out of his life a long time ago!”

Her fingers kept tightening.

I fought, thrashing, screaming.

A massive force shoved me backward.

“Amber! Why the hell are you screaming like that?!”

“Keep your voice down! Do you want to stop Emily's heart?!”

Irvin heard Emily's cries and kicked me square in the stomach.

I'd just had a miscarriage. He didn't care.

The pain took my voice. My head cracked against stone as I went down.

Irvin held Emily, her face a picture of frailty, and rushed her into the ambulance.

Someone in his entourage noticed me on the ground.

“Mr. Henson, she's……”

Irvin glanced at me once. His voice went cold：

“I forgot.”

“She's nothing to do with us. Get Emily to the hospital. Now.”

My heart split clean in two.

I dragged myself up off the ground and wiped the blood from the back of my head, then flagged down an Uber.

“The airport, please.”

……

Emily's test results came back clean. Irvin let out a breath.

A subordinate beside him ventured carefully：

“Mr. Henson, your wife seemed to be hurt too.”

Only then did Irvin remember what he'd said in anger.

He sent people to bring Amber to the hospital at once.

What they brought back instead was the kind of news that unravels a person……