Love, Amnesia, and Lies

Anthony froze, then blurted out, "You want a divorce? Why?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he had misspoken and hurried to correct himself.

"Divorce? Don't be ridiculous. My wife is Lisa. How could I ever have married you?"

Watching his clumsy performance, I couldn't be bothered to expose his lie or waste breath arguing with him. Instead, I played along with his act.

"I tricked you into getting the license. Let's go get divorced now."

Lisa immediately beamed with delight and urged, "It should've happened long ago. Let's go."

Anthony hesitated, frowning. He ignored the holes in my words and tried to gloss it over. "This is strange. I'll decide later."

I was puzzled.

Didn't he like Lisa? I was offering him a divorce and stepping aside for them—why wasn't he happy?

In the past, I would have pressed him for an answer, even asked in a ridiculous way whether he had ever loved me. Now, I didn't care to guess what was in his heart. I only wanted the divorce as soon as possible.

I raised my brows and provoked him.

"So you won't divorce me… because you still can't let go of me?"

Lisa immediately grabbed his sleeve with a wronged expression.

"Honey, aren't I your most beloved wife? How can you marry someone else?"

Under pressure from both of us, Anthony could only grit his teeth and agree.

When the three of us arrived at the courthouse, just as we reached the entrance, Anthony suddenly shook his head as if something familiar had triggered his memory. He took my hand on his own initiative.

"This place looks so familiar… I remember now. On New Year's Eve, I came here with you and stood in a long line to get our marriage certificate."

He knew that day had been the happiest of my life.

So he thought that as long as he brought up our "happy memories," I wouldn't bear to divorce him.

After all, this trick had always worked whenever he made me angry.

But that very day, I hadn't only overheard him pretending to have amnesia—I had also heard what he said about our marriage.

"What's so romantic about it? I chose the last day of the year because I had promised to marry her. But spending my whole life with someone I don't love—I couldn't accept that. So I kept delaying until the very last day before making up my mind.

"Anyway, marrying anyone is just getting by. She has good conditions and is capable—she can help me. She's not bad either. A very suitable marriage partner…"

I stood outside the door, listening to his praise of me, and yet my heart sank to the bottom.

I thought we were together because of love. To him, it was nothing but calculation and use.

No wonder, once the company began to thrive, he guarded money and power so tightly and never let me touch them. He had been wary of me all along.

I was distracted when Anthony tugged at my hand and asked if I remembered.

Living in a marriage built on suspicion had exhausted me. Cutting my losses in time was the best choice for me.

I shook my head and said casually, "No. You probably damaged your brain in the accident and imagined all that."

The smile on Anthony's face froze.

Seeing that I remained unmoved despite his attempts to please me—and thinking that he was supposed to be a "patient" and I still wouldn't accommodate him—his anger flared.

He grabbed Lisa's hand and interlaced their fingers.

"Right, all of that is fake. My wife is Lisa. Once we finalize the divorce, I'll marry Lisa!"

After saying that, he shot me a cold glare and walked inside with Lisa, looking blissful, as if he had come to get married rather than divorced.

I didn't bother indulging his theatrics and followed them in.

As soon as we completed the registration, we were taken into the mediation room.

Anthony pulled Lisa into his arms, took out the grapes he had bought on the way, peeled them one by one, and fed them to her personally.

He thought this would make me jealous.

But on the contrary, it only reminded me of the Anthony from my memories—cold and reserved.

Back then, he wouldn't even hold my hand in public, saying it was improper to be touchy in front of others.

Now, he seemed like a completely different person—so brazen that it made people uncomfortable to watch.

Even the staff in the mediation room couldn't stand it anymore.

With my firm attitude, we soon entered the divorce procedure.

My expression remained cold throughout, which made Anthony extremely displeased. In a fit of spite, he went silent with me and rushed through the process.

When we came out with the divorce certificate, I let out a long breath. The gloom hanging over my head finally lifted a little.

I hailed a taxi and prepared to go home.

Lisa leaned over and saw the address I had entered. Her face immediately darkened.

"Home? You're divorced now. That place stopped being your home long ago. Pack your things and get out!"

Anthony stood to the side and smiled.

"Exactly. Kick the outsider out. My wife will move in."

He was driving me out to make room for Lisa.

No normal person could accept that. The old me certainly couldn't. But now, I only nodded indifferently.

"Fine. I'll move out."

I booked a hotel from the car. After returning home, I began packing my things seriously.

By now, everything had slipped out of Anthony's control.

For once, he softened his attitude. Pretending to have recovered some memory, he held up our wedding photo and asked, "Heather, when did we take this picture?"

I didn't even lift my head as I stuffed clothes into my suitcase. "It's fake. I photoshopped it."

That sentence completely enraged Anthony.

He snatched my suitcase and threw my clothes out the door one by one.

"Get out! Leave right now!"

With a loud bang, he slammed the door shut.

I shook my head in silence, bent down to pick up the clothes on the floor, brushed off the dust, and stuffed them back into my bag.

Inside the room, Lisa asked anxiously, "Anthony, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have insisted on becoming vice president. Seeing you two divorce, I really can't bear it. Maybe I should go explain things to Heather…"

Anthony suppressed his emotions and comforted her.

"This has nothing to do with you. Heather is just too narrow-minded, arguing even with a sick person. Let's ignore her. I'll stay with you for these seven days, and we'll talk about the rest later.

"Heather is easy to coax. All I need to do is crook my finger, and she'll come back."

I carried my bags into the elevator.

He was wrong.

This time, it was truly over. There would be no going back.