Vanished Lover
Chapter 1
I have amnesia. I remember everyone, except
him.
I looked at my handsome, grumpy, and
decidedly unfond–of–me husband, and
shrugged.
“Let’s get a divorce,” I said.
1
When Jesse picked me up from the hospital, I
almost called the police. Only the sight of our
marriage certificate stopped my immediate
suspicions.
I stared at the photo, the two of us looking
anything but happy, and asked, “Are you
really my husband? You don’t seem to love
me.‘
Jesse’s annoyed expression froze.
“I wouldn’t marry someone who doesn’t love
ma nither There must be coma mistake!!!
<
me either. There must be some mistake,” I
said.
Jesse took me home.
The door opened to complete darkness.
He stubbed his toe on the entryway. “Why is
this thing so raised?” he grumbled.
I had no memory of this house.
I didn’t know how to answer him. It was
incredibly dark. He fumbled around the wall,
unable to find the light switch.
“Where’s the light switch?” he asked.
“Isn’t this your house?” I countered.
He didn’t answer, finally locating the switch
behind a vase after what felt like an eternity.
Warm yellow light flooded the entryway,
seemingly banishing some unseen monster
lurking in the shadows.
A memory flickered: no matter how late, the
entryway light always stayed on, waiting for
Jesse’s return, just as I always kept my heart
<
open for him.
I saw a sticky note in his hand, apparently
torn from near the switch.
I glanced at it. My handwriting. It read: “Hey
Jesse, congrats on finding the switch!”
I chuckled. “Was I really that childish?”
Jesse had been watching me. He tossed the
note aside. “Not only childish, but also
jealous,” he said offhandedly.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re seeing someone
else, aren’t you?”
He stammered, then exploded. “Sarah, you’re
faking it! Stop this nonsense! I don’t have
time for your games!”
They all suspected I was faking it. No car
accident, no major trauma; I simply woke up
one day not knowing Jesse.
My heart told me I had loved him deeply.
I smiled. “You’re guilty.”
Jesse ignored me and walked into the living
<
room.
The living room light switch was on the left,
easily within his reach. He sat on the cream-
colored sofa, pointedly ignoring me.
I examined the switch curiously.
Jesse was tall; he could flick it casually. I’d
have to stretch my arm high to reach it.
“I’ve really been incredibly unkind to myself,” I
muttered.
Jesse frowned. “Are you doing this on
purpose? I told you I don’t have time for your
games!”
I sat on the small chair opposite him, looking
around.
“If you don’t have time, then don’t play,” I
said, pulling out the marriage certificate he’d
given me. “Let’s get a divorce.”
He didn’t even look up, responding quickly, as
if afraid I’d change my mind. “Fine. You said
it.”
I nodded. After so long in the hospital, I was
exhausted. “Which is my bedroom?”
He looked at me suspiciously, trying to gauge
whether I was lying or genuinely amnesiac.
He led me to the bedroom door and leaned
against the frame, staring. I rummaged
through several drawers, finding my pajamas
and his.
They were a matching set, but his were brand
new, clearly unworn.
I folded them neatly, side–by–side.
I pulled out a nightgown. “I need to change.
Are you going to keep watching?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t forget the
divorce tomorrow.”
I showed him my phone. “Don’t worry, I’ve
already made the appointment.”
He was surprised. “When did you do that?”
I shrugged. “The moment I saw you, I planned
to divorce you.”
