Losing Memory, Losing Love

"Harley, are you sure about becoming an undercover officer?"

"Yes."

"You're the last surviving member of the Lupones. Think carefully. Come back in a month if you're still certain."

Undercover work meant being prepared to sacrifice everything, even her life. Harley had already made up her mind. In a month, she would erase her identity, wipe her name from existence, and leave her past behind.

Stepping out of the police station, she hailed a cab home. The car stopped suddenly. She glanced out of the window. A giant billboard lit up the city skyline, displaying breaking news: Hensford's richest man, James Franklin, has just spent an astronomical sum to purchase a private island—all to win a smile from his beloved girlfriend, Quincy Lawrence. He plans to build a luxurious villa as their future home.

Harley's lips curled into a bitter smile. Everyone knew Quincy was James' girlfriend, but no one knew that Harley was his wife. She had been married to James for three years. It wasn't a loveless marriage, but James had forgotten her.

Then, her mother lunged at the drug dealers. An explosion instantly erupted, and Harley watched her family perish in the flames. The blast threw her across the room, leaving her with lifethreatening injuries. In the hospital, she didn't dare close her eyes. As soon as she did, the horrific deaths of her family and the overwhelming hatred filled her mind.

Then she saw James being rushed into the hospital, barely alive. They said he had a car accident on the way to win his girlfriend back. Later, James suffered severe head trauma and massive blood loss. Without an immediate blood transfusion, he wouldn't survive. She heard James say, "Why do you treat me like this? What did I do wrong?"

He had done nothing wrong. His only mistake was falling in love with an undercover officer's daughter. Harley's heart ached, but there was nothing she could do. Then, Harley remembered that she and James had the same blood type. So, she could only ask the doctor to give him her blood.

Despite already losing too much blood herself, the doctors refused to let her donate. She threatened to take her own life if they didn't comply, and only then did the doctor agree. She survived, but her body was left with irreversible aftereffects. The worst was that James completely forgot her.

Their marriage had been destined from the start. It was an arrangement, a joke played by fate. She was the adopted daughter of the Jackmans. Meanwhile, he was the heir to the Franklin empire. An engagement bound them, and neither had a choice. James had only agreed to marry her because of his grandmother's threats. From that day forward, he saw her as the woman he hated most.

Maybe forgetting was for the best. Remembering it only brought pain. Harley had always known they weren't meant to last. It was also because he forgot that she was selfish for once and listened to her adoptive mother marrying him.

However, Harley had to complete her father's mission. Three years was enough. Now, she had to cherish this last month. She pulled out her phone and made a call. Her eyes lingered on the billboard, where the picture of James and Quincy looked like the perfect match. When the call connected, she smiled faintly and asked, "What are you doing? Can you have dinner with me tonight?"

The other end of the line was silent for a long time. Harley tightened her grip on her phone, feeling uneasy. She had been hoping for a different answer, one that would affirm what she already knew because there weren't many chances left. "I'm busy tonight. Eat by yourself." A cold voice came through the phone.

Her hopes shattered in an instant, but she didn't complain. Instead, she replied calmly, "Okay, I'll eat alone." Before she could hang up, the call had already ended. After three years of marriage, she had grown used to his indifference. It was almost as if she had forgotten that there was once a time when James had been gentle, only to her.

Harley knocked herself lightly on the head. No, she couldn't forget. If she forgot, what would she have left? Even the last bit of happiness would be gone. The reason she had wanted James to have dinner with her tonight was simple, it was her birthday and possibly her last.

She just wanted to leave behind a beautiful memory, but that was clearly impossible. Harley refused to feel sorry for herself, so she made a reservation at an upscale restaurant. She put on the prettiest dress she owned, carefully did her makeup, and stepped out in style. She ordered her favorite steak, sat back as the waiter poured her a glass of red wine, and waited.

When the steak arrived, she stared at it, lost in thought. It had been so long since she last had one. She had even forgotten how to cut it properly. For the past few years, she had been avoiding everything related to James, all their memories, and everything they had shared. If she never touched them, it was as if they had never happened.

She used to frequent this restaurant. Back then, James would always cut her steak for her, never letting her do it herself. Her nose tingled as she held back the emotions threatening to surface. Living on memories felt unbearably pathetic.

"Mr. Franklin, Miss Lawrence, this way, please." A waiter's voice snapped her out of her daze.

She turned her head and saw Quincy walking in, arminarm with James. The staff welcomed them warmly. James' face was as cold and unreadable as ever, his deep eyes carrying an icy distance. Even with Quincy beside him, he still gave off an untouchable air."

He never used to be like this, but the moment he looked at Quincy, something changed. His gaze softened. It was as if all his tenderness was reserved only for her. They didn't notice Harley. She sat there in silence, watching them, feeling like a pathetic clown peeking into someone else's happiness.

They had booked a private dining room. From where Harley sat, she had a clear view inside. The moment they took their seats, a waiter pushed in a cart and stopped at the door. It looked like James had planned a surprise for Quincy. Cake, flowers, a gift. Quincy gasped in surprise, her eyes welling up with emotion as she covered her mouth.

It was an ordinary, everyday surprise for Quincy. Still, for Harley, it was something extravagant, something out of reach. That bouquet of yellow roses in Quincy's arms reminded her of the past. Back when, on every holiday, every birthday, every little occasion, James would always prepare a bouquet of red roses for her. Because she loved them. Because he once said she was like a red rose, passionate, thorny, and stubbornly alive.

Harley couldn't look away from their happiness. Gradually, she felt a coolness on her cheeks. She touched them, realizing she was crying. She wiped her tears, worried about smudging her makeup, and went to the restroom.

She turned on the faucet and washed her hands, but tears fell uncontrollably into the sink. Why wouldn't they stop? She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her pale face was gaunt, the exhaustion showing through her makeup. She reapplied her lipstick.

"Harley." Suddenly, a voice called from behind her.

Harley caught sight of her in the mirror, her expression stiffening for a brief moment before she silently continued adjusting herself. Quincy walked up beside her, washed her hands, and struck up a conversation. "I saw you the moment I came in. What a coincidence! Eating alone?"

"Yeah," Harley replied nonchalantly.

Seeing the lack of warmth on Harley's face, Quincy's lips curled into a subtle smirk. "I heard you called James, but he had already promised to celebrate with me this morning, so he turned you down. Sorry about that."

Harley's fingers paused slightly, her fist tightening just a little. Even if Quincy had said that deliberately to provoke her, there was nothing she could do to win this game. So, she could only walk away. Just as she turned, Quincy's voice sounded behind her. "When are you finally going to divorce James?"

Harley stopped in her tracks. Quincy wiped her hands, then stepped in front of her. "You know deep down that the person James loves is me. If it weren't for you holding onto the title of Mrs. Franklin, he would have married me long ago. Don't you think you're the one tearing us apart? Making everyone miserable?"

Her words were full of accusations as if everything was Harley's fault. Harley looked at her and asked, "You seem anxious."

Her calmness made Quincy uneasy. She quickly retorted, "I've waited for three years! Isn't that long enough?"

Harley tilted her head slightly. "Then why don't you have James say it himself?"

Quincy pursed her lips slightly. "If it weren't for James' grandmother, do you really think he wouldn't have? If you initiate the divorce, it'll make things easier for him. You've already dragged him along for three years, it's time to end this."

Harley studied Quincy's face, which bore a resemblance to her own. Her lips curved into a mocking smile. "Sometimes, I really wonder. Does he love you, or just the body you happen to inhabit?"

Quincy's expression changed. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Harley's voice was indifferent. "Divorce is between me and James. It has nothing to do with you."

After that, she turned to leave. Unfortunately, Quincy wasn't willing to let it go. How much longer did she have to wait? How much longer would she have to endure? As long as Harley remained, Quincy would never be able to marry James. Jealousy burned inside her, twisting her expression.

"Harley!" Quincy reached out and yanked Harley's arm. The sudden force made Harley's purse slip from her hand, its contents spilling onto the floor. Her cosmetics, phone, keys and a newspaper clipping.

Quincy's eyes focused on the newspaper, and she quickly picked it up from the ground. After seeing it clearly, she looked at Harley with confusion.

Harley's face darkened. "Give it back."

Seeing the panic in her eyes, Quincy smirked. Her voice dripped with mockery. "Harley, it's just a piece of newspaper. What's got you so worked up? This Mark was just a drug dealer who died years ago. Do you know how many people he harmed? And yet, you keep this like it's some kind of treasure. Scum like him deserved to die!"

"He wasn't a drug dealer! Give it back!" Harley lunged for it.

Quincy dodged, her tone turning even colder when she saw how much it meant to Harley. "If he wasn't a drug dealer, then what was he? Do you really think I don't know? Mark Lupone was a notorious drug lord, executed by the police years ago! Harley, your values are twisted!" With that, she tore the newspaper clipping into shreds.

"No!" That piece of paper held Mark's photograph. It was the only thing Harley had left to remember her father's face. Now, it was nothing but scattered scraps on the floor. Harley's pupils contracted as she watched the torn fragments slip through Quincy's fingers, just like the feeling of her heart being ripped apart. She reached out, trying to gather them, but the pieces slipped through her fingers one by one. At that moment, the light guiding her went out.

Her father was not a drug dealer. He was a hero. He had only been with her until she was nine years old. A gentle and righteous man. The team called him back, and he left after just one visit home. She remembered her mother standing at the doorway, eyes red, watching his retreating figure for a long time. Back then, she didn't understand. She thought her father was going on a work trip, but she never saw him again.

Her mother fell into a daze, plagued by nightmares, constantly fearing that one day their family would face revenge. To protect her, her mother sent her to live with the Jackmans. In all these years, she had only seen her father once.

When he returned, his temples had turned gray, his skin darkened by the sun, and his face weary. However, his gaze remained as firm as ever. He stroked her head and said, "Yelena, if something happens to me in the future, don't believe what others say. Only trust what you see with your own eyes. Your father will never do anything wrong. I will always be loyal to the people and to my country."

Then, he died. Branded as a drug dealer. No one knew the truth that he was a righteous police officer who had spent decades undercover, sacrificing his identity to protect the people and his family. No one could understand the suffering he endured. So, how could she forgive? How could she forgive Quincy's insults? Harley's cold gaze locked onto Quincy. That woman flinched under her stare, taking a few steps back.

Harley's voice was sharp and resolute. "I'll say it one more time, he was NOT a drug dealer!" She raised her hand to slap Quincy, but before she could, a strong grip caught her wrist midair. Pain shot through her arm, the pressure so intense it felt like her bones were about to break.

Harley looked up. James stood in front of Quincy, shielding her. His tall figure cast a shadow over them, his handsome face cold, lips pressed tightly together, and his sharp eyes filled with something venomous. Quincy's face turned pale. "Harley, I didn't know this meant so much to you. If I had known, I wouldn't have torn it. I was just angry."

She softened her voice, her eyes turning red. "James, I didn't do it on purpose. I thought Harley felt the same way as I did."

Harley's heart ached unbearably. Anyone else in the world could misunderstand her father, but not her. It mattered more than anything. She gritted her teeth. "Stop pretending. This has nothing to do with you. You had no right to tear it apart!"

"She was wrong, huh?" James' voice was icy as he stared at her.

Harley met his gaze. There was no warmth in his expression, only chilling indifference. "Harley," his voice was even colder now, "How come you pity a drug dealer? That makes you just like him, disgusting."

James shoved her hand away. She stumbled back several steps, her waist slamming into the edge of the sink. A sharp pain shot through her, making her whole body tremble. James didn't spare her a second glance. He coldly took Quincy's hand and led her away. Quincy cast one last look at Harley, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips before following him out.

Harley bent over, staring at the mess on the ground. Her eyes burned red, but the words James had just spoken pierced her deeper than anything else. Disgusting. Had it really come to this?

Her face turned even paler, her lips quivering. Then, her strength gave out. Her vision blurred, and she collapsed to the ground. Even as she fell, she still reached out, desperately gathering the torn fragments. She refused to let anyone tarnish her father's name. Then, her vision went black, and she lost consciousness.

When Harley woke up, she was already in the hospital. A doctor stood nearby, jotting down notes. She hurried to sit up and lay back down again. The doctor, a woman, looked at her with concern. "You're really pushing yourself to the limit. Your anemia is severe. Luckily, a kind person brought you here in time."

Harley lowered her gaze and said nothing.

"Where's your family? Do they know about your condition? You should call them."

Harley thought about James staying by Quincy's side. She didn't want to call anyone and cause unnecessary worry. "There's no need, doctor."

Sensing her reluctance, the doctor softened. "At the very least, you should get a fullbody checkup. Women need to take better care of themselves." The doctor meant well, but Harley knew her own body. No amount of tests would change anything. The doctor wanted her to stay in the hospital for observation, but Harley left quietly.

By the time she got home, it was already late. The house was dark. She switched on the lights and immediately noticed the shoes by the entrance. James was home, and his suit jacket was casually draped over the sofa. She walked over expressionlessly, tidied his clothes, and hung them up. Then she went to the bedroom. James was already asleep. Well, it was their marriage. He never waited for her.

Noticing his furrowed brows and the way his blanket had slipped off, Harley moved closer. His face was sweaty, perhaps from the heat. She instinctively reached out to adjust his blanket.

"Harley."

Harley froze, thinking James had woken up. But then, she heard him murmur, "Why did you do this to me?" The same words he had mumbled in his hospital bed the day they broke up. Her hand stiffened, her face paling. She looked down at him. His eyes were shut, his breathing deep. He was still asleep. It seemed like he had a nightmare. Their entire history must have been a nightmare to him. Only in his dreams did he seem to remember.

Harley prepared to pull away, but a warm, strong hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. Her heart clenched. She instinctively tried to withdraw, but before she could, James pulled her onto the bed. James was awake. He pinned her down, his eyes filled with murderous intent, red and sweaty as if he wanted to kill her. How much did he hate her to react like this? Harley clenched her fists, anxiety twisting inside her. She didn't dare to speak first.

James' gaze cleared slightly when he recognized her. The rage in his eyes faded, but his expression only grew colder. "What are you doing?" His voice was harsh, wary.

Harley answered calmly, "You were having a nightmare. I was just covering you with a blanket."

James pushed himself off her, his face still unreadable. Harley quickly sat up. Seeing his sweatsoaked forehead, she offered, "You're drenched in sweat. Let me get you a towel." After that, she got out of bed.

"Harley." His deep voice stopped her in her tracks. James stared at her silhouette. "How much longer are you going to keep this up?"

Her eyelashes trembled slightly, but she kept her composure. "I don't understand what you mean."

James' voice was sharp. "Three years. Aren't you tired of this yet?"

Harley understood exactly what he was referring to. Three years of marriage without love. Just her endlessly giving while he remained indifferent. No matter how much he resented her, how cold he was to her, she never got angry. She played her role as Mrs. Franklin quietly and obediently.

Sometimes, she would ask herself why was she doing all this. Did she hope that one day, he would change his mind? She never forced him, did she? It could be more out of guilt. She felt that if it weren't for her, he wouldn't have had to suffer so much. Yet, her kindness toward him had become a burden, making him hate her even more. It was as if she were trying too hard to please him only to push him further away.

Harley turned her head and met James' cold, handsome face. She smiled faintly. "It'll be over soon."

It would all be over soon. However, James didn't pay attention to the meaning behind her words. The man only showed indifference, not even wanting to look at her. He stood up and left the bedroom first. "That's for the best!"

With a loud bang, the door slammed shut. Harley was left alone in the room. She no longer needed to put on an act. Slowly, she crouched down and stayed there for a long time. Meanwhile, James sat in his study, his brows furrowed in a deep crease that never eased. The dreams were becoming more frequent. Over and over again, the same ones. Fragments of memories piecing themselves together, strangely familiar but just out of reach.

His head ached. A heavy feeling weighed on him, especially when he looked at Harley. The feeling became even stronger. She was like an endless abyss, something he dared not touch.

"Another nightmare?" A call came through.

James responded softly, "Yes."

"I checked your heart rate, it's been increasing lately. That's not a good sign."

James asked, "Will my memory come back?"

"Not sure," the person on the other end replied. "With the kind of injuries you had, forgetting might actually be a blessing."

That was what the doctor had told him. Forgetting might be for the best. He tried not to dwell on it, but in his dreams, the past kept pulling him back. Something told him that those memories weren't happy ones. There was hatred mixed in, yet deep down, there was also an undeniable sense of unwillingness to let go.

For the next few days, James didn't return home. Harley didn't leave the house either. She had never waited for him like this before. There wasn't much time left. She just wanted to spend a little more time with him, even if they didn't speak. Alas, her hopes were slowly crumbling. The more she wanted something, the faster it slipped through her fingers.

It had always been this way, but she didn't want to wait anymore. Harley opened the window and saw that it was snowing outside. A vast stretch of white. A gust of cold wind blew in, sending a chill through her body. She shivered. Wrapping herself in a thick down jacket, she put on a hat and scarf, bundling up completely before stepping out.

Sabrina Thompson was already waiting for her. Noticing how heavily dressed she was compared to others, Sabrina sighed. "It's freezing, and you still insisted on coming out?" She reached over and put earmuffs on Harley.

Harley smiled faintly. "I might not have another chance."

Sabrina frowned. "What do you mean? Can't you wait until the snow stops? You've always hated snowy days."

Harley shook her head. "Let's go inside. I want to buy something." She headed to the men's clothing section, browsing through the racks.

Sabrina watched her and immediately understood who she was shopping for. Her expression darkened. "Harley, you're not seriously still thinking about him, are you?"

Harley's gaze fell on a darkcolored coat. It would suit James perfectly. She had it wrapped up. "I don't know if I am," she murmured. "But I'm divorcing him."

Sabrina was completely stunned. "What?"

Harley turned to her. "This will probably be the last thing I ever do for him." She had waited so many days, but he never came back. So, she decided to finish this one last thing. If she stayed any longer, she might not see him before Harley's identity completely disappeared. Before that, she had to end it completely.

Harley took the packed clothes and was about to go home. Unexpectedly, at the jewelry counter around the corner, she saw the man. He stood beside Quincy, who was leaning over the glass counter, looking at her left hand. On her finger was a diamond ring, sparkling and dazzling under the light. James was accompanying Quincy to look at wedding rings; this would surely be another headline in the news.

"Harley, are you still going to be lovestruck?" Sabrina's voice rang in her ears.

Harley comforted herself, "I'm not lovestruck, and James isn't a heartless man. He just forgot about me." That was true, but why did it hurt so much?

"Do you have any candy?"

"Huh?" Sabrina was confused by Harley's sudden question, but she immediately understood as she saw Harley's tearstreaked face. She hugged Harley and gently patted her shoulder, "Harley, if you can't hold onto the sand, just let it go. If you're not happy, what's the point of insisting on this marriage?"

"I understand." Harley swallowed back the emotions surging inside her. Sabrina took her home. No, Sabrina took her back to the villa under James' name.

As soon as Harley returned, she went straight to the room and quickly drafted a divorce agreement. Then, she sat on the couch and waited. Minute by minute, time passed. It was after midnight when James finally came home, but he wasn't alone. Quincy was with him.

Quincy supported him. "James is drunk. Someone needs to take care of him."

Even though this scene stung Harley's eyes, she couldn't pretend not to see it. She stepped forward to help, but Quincy pushed her away forcefully. "A lowly servant like you can't even tell what's going on? Do you really think you're Mrs. Franklin?"

Harley was caught off guard and fell to the ground. She didn't expect Quincy to pull such a stunt; otherwise, she wouldn't have given Quincy the chance to push her. But James ... every time James got drunk, she was the one who took care of him and made him a hangover remedy. Because the hangover tea Harley made was a special recipe from an old doctor. She couldn't just leave James unattended.

So, she went to the kitchen, made the hangover tea, and brought it up. Before she could even set it down, Quincy smacked the cup out of her hands. That was the last straw. "Quincy, I held back just now because of James. But that doesn't mean I'm afraid of you."

Quincy sneered. "You? Fight me? Harley, look at yourself. Look at your status. Do you think you can stand up to me?"

Harley despised Quincy. She refused to let this woman humiliate her like this. That woman raised her hand, ready to slap her. Unfortunately, before she could land the hit, a strong force yanked her back. That familiar strength of that chiseled face. "Harley, who gave you the courage to lay a hand on Quincy?"

James' dark eyes were like two sharp knives. Knives that sliced straight through her heart, leaving her bleeding. James could forget her, forget the feelings between them. Still, he repeatedly defended a woman who looked eerily similar to her in front of her. How could she bear this? How could she endure this? Harley suppressed the endless pain surging in her heart. "She knocked over my hangover tea, why can't I hit her?"

Quincy immediately put on an act, looking aggrieved, "James, didn't I send you back? She probably saw the diamond ring on my hand, misunderstood, and then smashed it in front of me … "

When the cup shattered, James had only woken up in a daze. Quincy knew that all he saw was Harley raising her hand against her. There were no cameras in the room, and James didn't care about his real wife. Harley was doomed. James' face darkened as he strode toward her.

Harley had always had a keen sense of smell; she caught the heavy scent of alcohol on him immediately. Her heart ached. The James she knew used to listen to her every word. Now, all she felt was hatred for those drug dealers who had ruined everything.

If it weren't for the drug dealers, Harley's father wouldn't have had to go undercover. He wouldn't have been mistaken for a criminal. Her mother and brother also wouldn't have been targeted for revenge. James also wouldn't have gotten into that accident trying to find her and wouldn't have lost his memory.

At that moment, Harley was certain of one thing. She had to get a divorce and put distance between herself and James. Harley had to reinstate her father's police badge. Even if she and James could never be together in this lifetime, she was willing to dedicate herself to protecting the country and to exchange her love for the peace of thousands of families.

Harley took a deep breath and looked at James. "Yes, I admit it. I can't stand you and Quincy. But now, I've realized something. Sign the divorce papers. I'll walk away with nothing."

After that, she strode to the nightstand. Harley pulled open the drawer and took out a divorce agreement, handing it to James.

The man's face darkened, his expression terrifyingly cold. Meanwhile, Quincy behind him was delighted. After all, if Harley divorced James, no one would be happier than Quincy. This would mean that she could finally become Mrs. Franklin rightfully and openly.

James had long since grown tired of Harley. By logic, he should have signed the divorce papers immediately. But instead, that man tore them to shreds. He flung the torn pieces at her face. His voice was icy. "Harley, when you wanted to get married, you tricked Grandpa. Now that you want out, you just throw divorce papers at me? What the hell do you take me for?"

His fury was palpable, his strength relentless. The sharp edges of the torn paper scratched Harley's cheek, stinging slightly. She clenched her fists and let out a soft laugh. "Why hold on to a marriage without love? I'm not even asking for a single cent. What more do you want?"

James' jaw tightened. "Who knows what tricks you've played with those documents?"

Harley refused to look at him, afraid that if she did, her emotions would completely crumble. Aside from her adoptive parents, James was the only person she had left. Her voice was indifferent. "If you think I tampered with the documents, why don't you draft the divorce agreement yourself?"

Quincy stepped forward and clung to James' arm. "James, she never mentioned divorce before. But now ... could it be because she has someone else outside? I mean, I'm just guessing. Otherwise, why would she be willing to leave without a single cent?"

A guess? Quincy was clearly trying to frame her, but Harley was too tired to argue with her anymore.

James' eyes darkened, his voice chilling. "Harley, you better not be doing anything disgraceful. Otherwise—"

"Spare me the threats." She cut him off coldly. "You have Quincy, don't you? Just sign the papers, and let's put an end to this farce. Or do you prefer keeping her as your mistress forever? Even when you have children, do you want them to be born illegitimate?"