Zoey always said she was a creature of deep, abiding love. But on the day her first love was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she handed me a pill designed to erase my memories. “Cary,” she pleaded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, “Leo is dying. Just give me three days. It’s his dying wish—a wedding.” “I won’t let it hurt you,” she promised, her voice a soft, persuasive whisper. “This pill causes temporary amnesia. After the wedding, you’ll take the antidote, you’ll love me again, and we can get remarried. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.” Staring at the resolute set of her jaw, I took the pill from her palm and swallowed it without a second thought. What Zoey didn’t know is that I was the one who developed this drug. And there is no cure. In three days, I will have forgotten her completely. 1 As we stepped out of City Hall, the divorce papers feeling flimsy and unreal in my hand, Zoey glanced at her watch. “The drug will kick in in two minutes,” she said, her tone meticulously practical. “For the next three days, you’ll forget you ever loved me. And once you take the antidote, you won’t remember any of this, so there’s no chance of you getting hurt.” She reached out, her fingers cool against my cheek. “Our divorce is just a formality, a temporary measure. When this is over, we’ll be together again. You’re the only man I’ll ever truly call my husband, Cary. You know that.” I watched her in silence, the bitter truth a stone in my throat. There would be no reunion. As the drug’s lead researcher, I knew its true nature all too well. It didn’t wipe your memory clean in an instant. It was a slow erosion, a creeping tide that washed away the memories of your most beloved, piece by agonizing piece. And the antidote she spoke of? It didn't exist. Not yet. But she was blissfully unaware. “Are you sure you won’t regret this?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. A fond smile touched her lips as she ruffled my hair. “Leo has loved me for so many years. His only wish is to have a wedding with me. How can I say no? And no, I won’t regret doing what’s right.” She framed my face with her hands. “Cary, you’ve always been the kindest, most understanding man I know. There’s no need to be jealous of a dying man. Once this is all over, we’ll go right back to our happy life.” A humorless smile twisted my lips. I let the acidic wave of sorrow wash over me, saying nothing more. I remembered the year we were most in love. I’d landed a major account for her, drinking myself sick until I was vomiting blood. She’d stayed up all night fighting to get my stolen research back, pushing herself until she developed a heart arrhythmia. Later, I’d teased her. “What if I get old and my memory goes? What if I forget you?” Her eyes had instantly reddened. She’d crushed her lips to mine in a fierce, desperate kiss. “Cary, I love you,” she’d choked out. “Promise me you’ll never forget me. I think I’d go mad.” And now, hearing that her old flame had cancer, she was the one orchestrating my forgetting. Divorcing me, feeding me a pill to erase every trace of our life together. She wanted to give him three days of her love, I guessed. A perfect, untarnished love, free from the inconvenient existence of a husband. An exclusive, complete devotion. But if she was brave enough to betray me so openly, why bother with the charade of a future reunion? I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh. Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through my skull. My body swayed, and I pitched forward. Zoey’s reflexes were sharp; she caught me, her beautiful eyes filled with a sudden, deep concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? If you’re scared… if you’re worried I won’t come back, I can give you the divorce certificate, all the papers. You can hold onto them.” I pushed myself upright, blinking at her with what I hoped was a look of genuine confusion. “What divorce certificate?” Zoey froze, then her expression shifted. “Cary,” she said, her voice cautious, “we just got divorced. Do you remember?” “Divorced?” Seeing the blank look on my face, a flicker of something—relief? joy?—danced in her eyes before she could hide it. My gaze fell to the papers still clutched in my hand. I understood. The drug was starting to work. The first memory to go was the most recent, most painful one: our divorce. Zoey quickly snatched the certificate from my grasp, as if afraid I’d see her name next to mine. She softened her voice, weaving a new reality. “Cary, I’m your sister. You’ve been ill, you’ve lost some of your memories. I’ll keep these important documents safe for you.” I looked up, meeting her darting, evasive eyes, and said nothing to challenge the lie. Fine. If she wanted to play a part, I would play along. Just then, a low voice called out. “Zoey! There you are.” I turned to see Leo jogging toward us. He stumbled on an uneven paving stone, lurching forward. In a heartbeat, Zoey dropped my arm and lunged to steady him. The sudden release sent me stumbling backward into the hard brick wall of the building. My head, already throbbing with a needle-like pain, exploded in a fresh wave of agony. Leo clung to Zoey’s hand, his arm snaking around her waist as he flashed a triumphant smile. “Thanks for catching me, Zoey.” Realization dawned on her face. She blanched, pushing him away as her gaze snapped back to me. “Cary! Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, Leo’s sick… if he falls and starts bleeding, it might not stop. I had to catch him first.” I had already straightened up, brushing the dust from my jacket and swallowing the pain. “I’m fine.” Leo stepped closer again, his hand finding Zoey’s arm, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Zoey, what took you so long? It’s just a divorce. I was waiting forever.” Noticing my stare, Zoey cleared her throat, her guilt palpable. But she didn’t pull her arm away. “It’s done,” she said to him. “We can focus on the wedding now.” Leo’s face lit up. He shot me a smug, victorious glance. “Cary, your sister and I have been in love for five years. We’re finally getting married. The wedding is in three days. You have to be there.” I forced a smile. “It’s my sister’s wedding. Of course, I’ll be there.” His grin widened. “Great. You can be our photographer. Make sure you get a perfect shot of me and Zoey kissing at the altar…” “Leo,” Zoey cut in, her voice sharp with warning. She looked at me, a strange flicker of disappointment in her eyes when she found no trace of pain in mine. “He doesn’t need to come to our wedding.” My expression remained placid. Seeing Zoey defend me, Leo’s brow furrowed. He suddenly sagged against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Zoey,” he whimpered, “my heart… it hurts. I can’t breathe.” Instantly, all her attention was on him, her eyes wide with alarm. “Is it happening again? Just hold on, I’ll get you to the hospital.” She glanced back at me, her voice low. “Cary, do you remember the way home? Should I have someone drive you?” I shook my head. “I remember.” She hesitated. The staff at the clinic had told her the drug only erased memories of a loved one, leaving everything else intact. The thought that I was her greatest love, the one being erased, seemed to momentarily soothe her. “Okay. You go on home, then. I’m taking Leo to the hospital.” With that, she guided a leaning, weakened Leo to her car. He kept his arm draped around her shoulders, his voice faint but clear. “Zoey, to be held by you like this, out in the open… even if I died right now, it would all be worth it.” “Don’t say such foolish things,” she chided gently. Through the car window, I watched as she leaned over to fasten his seatbelt. He suddenly wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her close and pressing a soft kiss to her earlobe. The intimate, tender gesture sent a blade of ice through my heart. The sting of betrayal, sharp and undeniable. Her car sped away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. A moment later, my phone rang. “Mr. Reed,” a voice with a French accent said, “The Moreau Institute in Paris has prepared your orientation. We look forward to welcoming you in three days.” 2 I hung up and went home, only to find the apartment stripped bare, a hollowed-out shell of what it once was. Zoey and I had designed this place together. This was supposed to be our forever home, our cozy little sanctuary. Now, the tea set we’d designed, the art we’d chosen, every single object that held a memory of her was gone. She must have been terrified of me remembering our past. She’d even dug up the flowerbeds on the balcony, turning over the soil where we’d planted roses together, erasing even the roots of our shared past. Staring at the crushing emptiness, a bitter smile touched my lips. Zoey, in all your careful planning, were you more afraid of my pain, or were you afraid I’d remember everything and crash your perfect wedding? If you knew there was no cure, that my memories of you would be gone forever, would you feel a single shred of regret? I slipped my wedding ring off my finger. I wrote her a letter, sealed it in an envelope with the ring, and tucked it deep into the loose soil of one of the empty planters. Just then, my phone rang again. It was my best friend, Ryan. He hesitated before speaking. “Cary… man, I have to tell you something. I think Zoey’s cheating on you. I just saw her outside the hospital, all over some other guy.” “I know,” I said, my voice flat. “It doesn’t matter. Let her be.” Ryan was stunned by my calm. “Cary? Are you… are you okay?” His genuine panic almost made me laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be? Zoey and I are divorced.” “DIVORCED?!” I gave him the short, brutal version of the story. When I told him I’d taken the pill, a string of curses erupted from the other end of the line. “That son of a bitch! And her—what a piece of work! To marry that guy, she’d really stoop to anything. You gave up that research position in Paris to be with her! Half of her success, she owes to you! And now she does this, for him? And she has the gall to say she’s doing it so you won’t feel pain? Who the hell does she think she is?” Finally, a sliver of pain broke through my numbness, and my face grew pale. Five years ago, when Zoey was at her lowest, I married her without a second thought. I used every connection I had to pull her company back from the brink of bankruptcy. Back then, she would hold me tight every night, whispering in my ear that I was her forever. But somewhere along the way, things had changed. Her heart had found room for someone else. She forgot my sacrifices and started demanding that I be tolerant, that I forgive her “compassion” for Leo. Is it so hard to love one person, and one person only? Because I managed it just fine. Ryan, having exhausted his vocabulary of insults, took a deep breath. “I’m telling you, she is going to regret this for the rest of her life. Divorcing you, drugging you… she’ll be kicking herself forever.” He scoffed. “She has no idea you never finished the antidote, does she? Good. Let her suffer. And you… you’re finally free.” My eyes drifted to the planter where I’d hidden the letter. I knew Zoey’s habits better than my own. When she was upset, she’d drink a glass of wine on the balcony. If, when I was gone, she truly felt regret, she would find it. Late that night, I heard her come in. She was rummaging through the closet in my room. “What are you doing?” Her movements froze. She turned to see me standing in the doorway in my pajamas. She frowned, pulling a scarf from her own neck and wrapping it around mine. “It’s freezing in here. Why are you dressed so lightly?” I ignored her question. “Are you looking for something?” “Yeah,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “I need to borrow your suit. For Leo. He wants to wear it at the wedding.” She paused, then added, “You might not remember. It’s the one you wore for our wedding.” I stared at her, my silence a heavy weight in the room. Of course I hadn’t forgotten. She had designed it for me herself. Two whole months, from the first sketch to the final stitch. A couture piece that was practically priceless. All because I had once casually mentioned, “I wish I had a suit that was one-of-a-kind.” And now, she was taking that suit, made for me, to dress another man for his wedding. The absurdity of it was almost comical. I decided to press her. “Is this suit really that important? Why does it have to be this one?” My question seemed to stir a memory. Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second. The day she’d finished it, she had told me, “This suit, Cary, will only ever belong to you.” I watched her, waiting. She hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “It was designed by a master artisan. It’s the only one in the world. Leo loves it, and it’s his dream to get married in it.” Seeing my gaze drop, she added quickly, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it right back after the wedding. And then… whatever you want, just ask. I’ll get it for you.” The same smooth, practiced lies. Another blow landed squarely on my heart. On our wedding day, her eyes had never left me. Afterward, she had carefully stored the suit away as if it were a sacred relic. “Why are you so careful with it?” I had laughed. She had looked at me with sincere, earnest eyes. “Because you gave this suit its meaning. I want to preserve that memory forever.” But now, because Leo “liked it,” she was handing it over without a second thought. The suit, once a treasured symbol, was now just a tool to appease another man. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. I have to go out again,” Zoey said, oblivious to the storm inside me. She took the suit and left. I pulled the scarf from my neck and let it fall to the floor. I looked at the empty space in the closet, a hollow ache of disappointment and sorrow filling my chest. It’s okay, I told myself, talking to the suit as much as to myself. Just like me, once she’s done cleaning house, everything will be fine. It was just another form of being thrown away. Once my memory was wiped clean, I could finally let go. As the thought crossed my mind, another vicious spike of pain shot through my head. And just like that, another huge piece of my memory vanished, pulling me violently from the depths of my grief. 3 The next day, Ryan called to tell me Zoey was throwing herself into wedding preparations for Leo. The scale of it, he said, was on par with the wedding she’d had with me. I nodded thoughtfully. For someone so busy, she still managed to have three meals a day delivered to my door. Spreading the love so evenly… it must have been exhausting for her. On the day of the wedding, Ryan took me to the venue. We sat in a corner, far from the main crowd. The ceremony hadn't started yet. I could see Zoey and Leo, arms linked, surrounded by a laughing group of groomsmen. “I remember when Zoey and Cary had a wedding this big,” one of them said loudly. “Damn, I never thought our boy Leo would be so lucky, marrying such a knockout.” At the mention of my name, Leo’s hand tightened on Zoey’s. Zoey spoke up, her voice clear and firm. “Cary and I are divorced. Today is about Leo. Let’s not bring up the past.” Hearing her so decisively cut ties, another groomsman whistled. “Leo’s young, handsome, and brilliant. Cary Reed never stood a chance.” “Zoey, you better take good care of our boy for the rest of his life. Don’t you dare break his heart.” Zoey smiled sweetly, the same smile she’d given me when she made her vows. “Don’t worry,” she promised. “I won’t let him down. And he won’t let me down.” My gaze darkened. Beside me, Ryan was gritting his teeth. “What a twisted sense of morality. Since when is the other man celebrated for winning?” In the distance, someone started a chant. “It’s a beautiful day! How about a kiss for the happy couple!” The groomsmen joined in, a chorus of rowdy shouts. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Leo stared at Zoey, his expression a perfect mask of adoration. Under the mounting pressure, Zoey raised a hand to his jaw, then stood on her toes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss near the corner of his lips. The crowd erupted in cheers. In the midst of the roaring celebration, all I felt was a profound, echoing silence. She couldn’t guard her heart. Now, she couldn’t even guard her body. A mocking smile played on my lips. Thank God for the memory loss. The pain was already so much duller. Just then, my phone screen lit up. A boarding notification for my flight. “Ryan,” I said, standing up. “It’s time for me to go.” He pulled me into a fierce hug, his eyes red. “Go. Leave all this garbage behind and go be brilliant. I’ll be waiting to see you celebrated around the world.” He grinned mischievously. “As for this party… don’t worry. I’ve got a wedding gift for them.” “See you, man.” I clapped him on the shoulder, not bothering to ask what he had planned. In half an hour, the last of my memories of loving Zoey would be gone anyway. I walked away, pulling my suitcase behind me. As Zoey and Leo stood hand-in-hand, her eyes scanned the room and for a second, I thought she saw me. A flash of panic crossed her face. But she must have dismissed it. If I were here, I’d be attending as her “brother.” I wouldn’t be slipping out the back with a suitcase. She must have imagined it. The lights in the hall dimmed. Zoey and Leo stood center stage, exchanging rings under the spotlight, gazing at each other with saccharine sweetness. The crowd began to chant for another kiss. Suddenly, a massive banner unfurled from the ceiling above them. Ryan stood beneath it, holding a megaphone, a smirk on his face. “A toast!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the silent hall. “To the happy couple—the homewrecker Leo and the lying cheat Zoey! May your lives together be long and utterly miserable!” Leo’s face went white as he stared helplessly at Zoey. Recognizing Ryan, Zoey’s face hardened with fury. “What the hell are you talking about? Cary and I are divorced! Leo is not a homewrecker!” Ryan let out a cold, harsh laugh. “You want to have your cake and eat it too, don’t you? You can’t let go of your ex-husband, but you still have to give this guy his fantasy wedding. You told Cary to wait for you, to remarry you! Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve put him through these last three days?” Zoey’s eyes turned to ice. “You don’t need to worry about that. I gave Cary the memory drug. He won’t remember a thing.” “You idiot,” Ryan spat. “The drug doesn’t work instantly. It takes three full days for the memories of a loved one to disappear completely. Every single thing you’ve done, every lie you’ve told, every moment with him—Cary saw it all.” Ryan tilted his chin up, his eyes filled with contempt. “And here’s something else you don’t know. Who do you think was the lead researcher on that drug? It was Cary. Your ex-husband.”
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