Remembered Too Late
My husband, Roger Harvey, was a renowned top-tier lawyer in the industry, but he could never remember anything outside of his cases.
He never remembered my birthday or our wedding anniversary.
Every night he stood at the bedroom door and asked politely yet distantly, "Is this the one?"
He could not even remember my name or what I looked like.
To make him "remember" me, I hung our wedding photo on the wall with a label underneath. "Anniversary: May 20."
I put a nameplate on the bedroom door that read "Bedroom."
I even labeled everything in the house with sticky notes that explained in detail how to use each item and its background.
I thought it was a side effect of his high-pressure job, so I never complained.
That changed the day a multi-car pileup sent both me and his childhood friend, Sylvie Gordon, into the emergency room at the same time.
He rushed frantically to Sylvie's bedside and shouted in a clear, urgent voice, "She has tachycardia. She caught a cold last month but no fever."
The nurse handling the rescue grabbed him and asked, "Sir, your wife is also seriously injured. Does she have any medical history or allergies?"
He turned his head, looked at me covered in blood, and shook his head blankly. "I don't remember."
In that moment I finally understood. He was not forgetful. His memory was astonishingly sharp.
He simply reserved that precise, precious memory for someone else.
Everything about me he had never cared to keep in his heart.
This was a dramatic tug-of-war between love and betrayal.
It was a heart-wrenching journey of self-redemption.
Yet when I decided to leave, he was suddenly filled with panic...
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Chapter 2
Sonya rushed into the ward while I stared blankly at the ceiling.
She saw my injuries and her eyes reddened instantly. She threw her arms around me and cried harder than I had.
"Josie! How did you end up like this! Where is that bastard Roger!"
Her voice echoed through the empty ward with angry trembling.
I forced a smile uglier than crying and patted her back lightly. "I'm fine. I won't die."
Sonya wiped her tears and gritted her teeth as she handled the paperwork, paid the bills, and arranged a caregiver.
She bustled around until she settled everything properly. Then she sat by my bed and started the interrogation. "Tell me. What exactly happened? Was it that scheming Sylvie again?"
I recounted the car accident and Roger's behavior in the emergency room without leaving anything out.
Sonya jumped up from her chair when she finished listening. She pointed toward the door and unleashed a torrent of curses. "Roger is blind! No, his brain must have been fried! For an ungrateful bitch, he ignored whether his own wife lived or died! I want to shred his law license!"
I listened quietly to her rant. My heart felt no major ripples.
Nothing was more grieving than a dead heart. That was probably this feeling.
Sonya tired herself out cursing and sat back down beside me. She held my hand with eyes full of heartache. "Josie, what do you even see in him? Why do you keep putting up with this kind of man? Divorce! You have to divorce!"
What did I see in him?
I had asked myself that countless times.
Five years ago, someone falsely accused my father of business fraud. The company went bankrupt and everyone avoided us.
Roger, who had just started making his name, took on the case no one else dared touch.
He worked without sleep for three months and pieced together evidence from the thinnest threads to clear my father's name.
He said it was his duty as a lawyer.
From that moment, this man took root in my heart.
I thought he embodied justice and became my savior.
Only after we married did I learn that another person already lived in his heart.
That girl named Sylvie was his childhood neighbor and the dream in his thoughts.
I was merely a suitable wife he picked casually to appease family pressure.
I told Sonya this past story. My voice stayed calm without the slightest fluctuation.
Sonya remained silent for a long time before she let out a long sigh. "So you feel you owe him and you've been repaying that debt with these years of marriage?"
I nodded.
"And now?" Sonya pressed. "Do you think the debt is paid?"
Was it paid?
I remembered his indifferent eyes in the emergency room and those blank "I don't remember" words.
For him, I learned to cook his favorite dishes even when I burned my hands full of blisters.
For him, I gave up my own career and willingly became a full-time housewife who managed everything perfectly.
For him, I covered the house with sticky notes just so he might "remember" this home and remember me.
Yet all my efforts weighed lighter than a feather in his eyes.
I had nearly lost my life.
No matter how heavy that favor was, it should now be repaid.
I told Sonya, "It's paid."
Sonya's eyes lit up. "Then we find a lawyer right now and sue him for divorce! Isn't he the top attorney? We'll hire his strongest rival! Let him taste defeat for once!"
I shook my head.
Roger's connections and status in the industry were unmatched.
I had no chance of winning a lawsuit against him.
Besides, he enjoyed the care I gave him and the convenience and stability this marriage provided.
With his personality, he would not easily agree to divorce.