My Husband Lost His Memories of Our Love

Abigail stood outside the expansive French window, the Christmas cake she had brought clutched tightly in her hands. The warmth of the scene inside contrasted starkly with the biting cold around her. She stared, unmoving, as her heart grew heavier with every passing second.

“Gabriella has endured so much over the past two years, but it’s all in the past now,” Olivia Montgomery said gently, running her fingers through Gabriella’s hair. “My son has always loved you, and that’s what matters. He’s just fulfilling his obligations to Abigail before he can give you the life you deserve.”

Gabriella smiled softly, her tone filled with sweetness. “Don’t worry, Auntie. I know Sebastian loves me. That alone is enough.”

She turned her gaze to Sebastian, her eyes brimming with affection.

Sebastian lowered his head to meet her gaze, his expression tender, his voice steady. “Gabriella, once I’ve repaid what I owe, I will marry you.”

Gabriella’s cheeks flushed. She nodded shyly before stepping forward to embrace him.

Inside the house, the scene was one of pure harmony. The living room glowed warmly under the soft light of a massive Christmas tree, its branches laden with ornaments. Piles of wrapped gifts surrounded its base, completing the picture of festive joy. It was a tableau of love and belonging—a perfect match, as if nothing in the world could disrupt it.

Outside, the bitter wind stung Abigail’s face, but the ache in her chest burned far worse. Her grip on the cake faltered, and it fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

The pain coursing through her was unbearable, as if a blade had carved through her heart. Every breath felt like a knife twisting deeper. She stood there, a silent, unseen figure—a ghost in the shadows, watching a happiness that was once hers.

Her gaze lingered on Sebastian as he bent down to pick out a gift for Gabriella, his focus entirely on the woman beside him. Abigail’s stomach churned. He’s my husband, she thought bitterly, yet the scene before her denied it.

Unable to watch any longer, she turned and walked away, her footsteps light but unsteady, carrying her farther from the glowing warmth of the house. No one inside noticed her presence—her coming, her leaving, or the broken cake lying in the snow.

Abigail clutched at her chest as she disappeared into the cold night. The memory of how she and Sebastian met surfaced briefly. She had saved his life once.

This incident marked the beginning of their intertwined fates. Sebastian, out of gratitude, often gave Abigail small gifts to thank her. Over time, his visits became more frequent, his gratitude evolving into admiration. Before long, he realized he had fallen in love with her and began to pursue her wholeheartedly.

Their love story blossomed effortlessly. On campus, they were the couple everyone envied—young, vibrant, and seemingly unstoppable. Campus love, pure and passionate, painted their days with joy.

Sebastian’s gestures of love were grand and heartfelt. Once, while preparing a surprise for her, he was mistakenly taken away by the security guards. Instead of defending himself, he used his energy to comfort Abigail, gently reassuring her, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” The incident only deepened their bond, and soon everyone on campus believed they were destined for marriage after graduation.

He had promised her, “I will marry you. No matter what, you’re my future.”

But life, as it often does, threw obstacles in their path. The disparity between their worlds loomed large. Sebastian was the only son of the noble Montgomery Family, while Abigail came from a modest background.

When Olivia learned of their plans to marry, she vehemently opposed the union. Her disapproval came with sharp words and threats. “I’ll give you ten million to leave my son. Otherwise, with your background, you’ll struggle to find a job as a mere college graduate.”

But Abigail’s resolve didn’t waver. She refused the money and chose love over fear. When Sebastian learned of this, he held her hand and declared, “If my mother doesn’t agree, so be it. This is our life, Abby, not hers. I will marry you.”

Defying his family, Sebastian secretly registered their marriage. On the night they received their certificate, he held her close and whispered, “Abby, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life. I’ll never let you suffer.”

For a time, he kept his promise. Their days were filled with love, and their bond grew stronger. But when Olivia discovered their secret, she was furious. She forcibly brought Sebastian home and confined him for several days. Even then, Sebastian shielded Abigail from harm, refusing to let his mother hurt her.

Two months ago, Abigail found out she was pregnant. The news filled Sebastian with joy; he was so ecstatic he didn’t sleep all night. They felt as though they were finally moving toward their ultimate happiness.

But fate intervened cruelly.

Half a month ago, they were in a car accident. Abigail lost their unborn child, and Sebastian lost most of his memories from college onward. The tragedy left Abigail devastated, but worse was yet to come.

Olivia seized the opportunity to manipulate the situation. She concocted a lie, whispering poison into Sebastian’s ears. “That woman only married you out of obligation. She saved your life and used it to manipulate you into a threeyear marriage. The truth is, you’ve always loved Gabriella.”

Olivia went as far as forging a nonexistent contract, fabricating evidence to support her lies.

Sebastian, clinging to fragmented memories of Gabriella, found no trace of Abigail in his recollection. The false narrative spun by his mother took root, and he chose to believe her over the stranger Abigail had become in his mind.

Despite Abigail’s desperate attempts to explain, her words fell on deaf ears. To him, she was now just a woman repaying a favor, and his disdain for her was blatant in his every action.

After walking aimlessly for what felt like an eternity, Abigail’s strength finally gave out. She sank to the ground, clutching her chest as pain rippled through her heart.

Tears streamed down her face, one after another, as she stifled her cries with a trembling hand. Her shoulders quivered under the weight of her grief, her vulnerability laid bare to the cold, indifferent night.

Time seemed to blur—minutes, maybe an hour—until the sudden ringing of her phone jolted her back to reality.

Sniffling, Abigail wiped the tears from her face and steadied her voice before answering.

“Abigail, have you decided about the followup on the research project? Do you want to join?”

The voice on the other end was calm, professional. It was about a confidential project, one that promised secrecy and a chance to disappear. If she joined, her whereabouts would be strictly hidden—a clean break from everything.

Her thoughts wavered. Memories of the past flooded her mind. Sebastian has only lost his memory. Love doesn’t just vanish. Maybe… maybe I should wait.

“I’ll think about it, Director,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Snowflakes began to fall from the sky, delicate and silent. This year’s snow came early, and it was growing heavier by the minute. Abigail had no choice but to make her way home through the thickening storm.

By the time she reached the villa, her coat was soaked through. Shivering, she opened the door.

Inside, the warmth of the living room was starkly contrasted by the scene before her—several people were already seated on the sofa, chatting and watching TV.

As Abigail stepped into the warmth of the house, the snow on her coat began to melt, forming small puddles at her feet. Her frozen hands slowly regained feeling, tingling with the sensation of warmth.

She walked past the group on the sofa, her wet footsteps faintly audible against the floorboards. Just as she reached the stairs, Sebastian’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation.

“Abigail.”

He had never addressed her with such formality before. The weight of his tone made her stop in her tracks. She turned, a flicker of hope glimmering in her eyes—a hope she didn’t even realize she carried.

But his next words extinguished that fragile spark, plunging her back into the cold.

“There’s so much water on you. Don’t track it everywhere. Gabriella might slip. Go stand by the door and dry off before coming in.”

He never once looked at her. His gaze remained fixed elsewhere, concern only for Gabriella’s safety—not for Abigail, shivering in her soaked clothes.

Her heart tightened, the pain a dull, relentless ache, as though a hand had clenched around it. She turned back towards the door, the faint laughter from inside the house piercing her like shards of ice.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, soft and silent. She stared at it, memories surfacing unbidden.

Every year, when the first snow arrived, Sebastian had insisted they watch it together. He once believed in the superstition—that those who watched the first snow together would stay together forever. He had always held her close, shielding her from the cold, his warmth a barrier against the chill.

Now, the irony was almost cruel. The man who once protected her from the snow had left her to stand alone in it.

When she finally reentered the house, the warmth that greeted her felt hollow. The living room was dark; the laughter was gone. They had forgotten her entirely, retreating to their rooms without a second thought.

She smiled bitterly to herself, climbing the stairs to the bathroom. The shower’s hot water stung her icy skin, but it couldn’t thaw the cold in her heart.

Returning to the bedroom, she slipped quietly into bed, careful not to disturb Sebastian. But as she settled, he shifted deliberately, moving further away from her.

It was a small, wordless gesture, but it hit her harder than any insult. His avoidance felt like a declaration: she was unwelcome, untouchable—a virus he couldn’t escape.

Her body froze, the weight of his rejection paralyzing her. She lay motionless, unsure if she could even breathe without it breaking her completely.

“Are you going to sleep or not?” His impatient voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Abigail swallowed the bitterness welling up inside her and lay down, tears slipping silently down her cheeks, disappearing into the fabric of her pillow. The pain in her chest felt like an endless weight pressing down on her, but she remained quiet, unwilling to let the sobs escape.

The next morning, she rose early to make breakfast. As she entered the kitchen, she noticed the house was quieter than usual. A quick glance confirmed it—Olivia and Gabriella had left. A small sense of relief washed over her, a momentary reprieve from their constant scrutiny.

She set the table just as Sebastian came downstairs, adjusting a tie that hung awkwardly around his neck. Instinctively, Abigail stepped forward to help him. Her hands reached for the tie, but he waved her away, his gesture sharp and dismissive.

In that moment, the realization hit her again—he couldn’t stand her touch anymore.

Sebastian continued his clumsy attempt to fix the tie, fumbling with the knot until it was barely passable. Frustration flickered across his face, though he tried to mask it.

Why? he wondered silently. Why can’t I even tie a simple tie anymore?

The answer was plain, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself—he had never learned because Abigail had always done it for him.

When breakfast was ready, they sat at the table. Abigail mustered her courage to speak, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

“Sebastian,” she began, her tone pleading. “Your mother lied to you. We truly loved each other. It wasn’t an agreement or a threat. Please, you have to believe—”

“Enough!” Sebastian’s hand slammed against the table, the sharp sound echoing in the room. He stood abruptly, his glare cutting through her like a blade.

“Stop spouting nonsense. When the agreed time is up, I’ll divorce you. You’d better behave yourself until then, or I won’t even wait that long!”

His words dripped with anger and disgust, his eyes cold and unyielding.

Abigail felt as though her heart was being strangled, the pain wrapping itself around her like an unrelenting vine. She stared at him, her chest heaving with the weight of words left unsaid.

Why? She asked herself for the hundredth time. Why would he believe me now when he didn’t before?

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she lowered her gaze, resigning herself to silence. She returned to her breakfast, her appetite lost but unwilling to show the depth of her hurt.

Once, Abigail had never needed to cook. Sebastian had always insisted on taking care of meals himself or calling their housekeeper when he was too busy.

But after his car accident and subsequent discharge from the hospital, everything changed.

“Why don’t you cook when there’s no one else here?” he’d snapped one day, his voice laced with disdain. “You don’t even know how to do something as simple as this?”

His words had stung, treating her not as a partner but as a servant.

It was Abigail’s first time in the kitchen, but Sebastian’s reaction was as cold and predictable as ever. He took one bite, his expression hardening instantly, and pushed the plate to the middle of the table. The disdain in his eyes was undisguised, a silent declaration of her inadequacy.

The sharp ring of his phone broke the oppressive silence. He glanced at the screen, and his demeanor shifted. Without hesitation, he answered, his voice softening with unmistakable joy.

“Gabriella?”

The sound of that name made Abigail’s hand, holding her chopsticks, freeze in midair. The dining room fell silent again, but Gabriella’s sweet, coquettish voice on the other end of the line was painfully clear.

“Sebastian, the breakfast my aunt made isn’t good. Can you cook for me instead? I only want to eat what you make.”

A tender smile crept onto Sebastian’s face, and he replied indulgently, “Alright. I’ll make you whatever you want.”

The scrape of a chair being pushed back snapped Abigail out of her daze. She looked up just in time to see him stand and walk out the door, the sound of it slamming shut ringing in her ears.

Left alone, Abigail forced herself to continue eating. Each bite felt mechanical, and tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to swallow. Her heart was a storm of pain and confusion, the ache in her chest nearly suffocating.

Once upon a time, those same words had been meant for her.

“You don’t have to cook. I’ll make you whatever you want to eat,” he used to say, his voice filled with warmth.

The words hadn’t changed, but the person they were meant for had.

The following days passed in emptiness. Sebastian didn’t return, and the coldness in the house deepened as New Year’s Eve approached.

Summoning her courage, Abigail sent him a few messages.

When will you be back? Will we spend New Year’s Eve together?

Her heart ached as she typed those words, memories flooding her mind. Every year before this, Sebastian had insisted they spend New Year’s Eve together. He had even made her swear to it as if their shared celebration was sacred.

But now, the oath seemed forgotten.

The messages remained unanswered, her screen a stark reminder of his silence.

Until New Year’s Eve, Sebastian still didn’t return. As the hours ticked by, the emptiness in the house grew unbearable, and Abigail made another call.

This time, when she was about to give up, he answered.

“Hello, what’s the matter?” His voice was cold, impatient, as if her call was an inconvenience.

Abigail’s heart clenched, but she forced herself to speak softly. “Sebastian, can we celebrate the New Year together today?”

A beat of silence followed, then his tone turned sharper. “Did I tell you not to call me that again? I find it disgusting. And New Year’s Eve? It’s just part of an agreement. Don’t take it seriously.”

The dull ache in her chest sharpened, piercing her like a knife. She swallowed hard, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill.

“Sebastian, I—”

Before she could say more, a cheerful voice interrupted. Gabriella’s voice, bright and carefree, was unmistakable.

“Sebastian, the fireworks are starting! Come quickly!”

“Okay,” he responded, his tone so gentle it was unrecognizable from the one he’d just used with her.

And then, without another word, the call ended.

Abigail sat frozen, the phone still in her hand. Outside, the sound of fireworks erupted, echoing through the quiet of the house. She walked to the balcony, her gaze blank as she looked up at the sky.

The fireworks were just as dazzling as ever, their vibrant colors painting the night. But to her, they felt gray and lifeless, drained of all their beauty.

The thought of Sebastian being with someone else, cherishing someone else, tore at her heart. It was as if every breath came with a fresh wound, stabbing deeper and deeper until the pain became unbearable.

After midnight, her phone buzzed unexpectedly. It was an email notification. She glanced at the sender and froze.

It was from Sebastian.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the email. Inside was a video.

When she clicked play, his face appeared on the screen.

“Abigail, Abby, baby, my wife,” he began, his voice tender and affectionate. “This is the third year we’ve been together. While recording this, I realized just how much more I’ve grown to love you—and I know I’ll keep loving you even more in the future.”

He chuckled softly, his dark eyes sparkling with emotion. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about wanting to travel and get married. Because of my family, I haven’t been able to give you a proper wedding yet. But next year, on our anniversary, let’s make it happen, okay? I’ve already started planning it.”

His smile deepened, pure happiness lighting up his face. It was a version of him she hadn’t seen in so long—a version she thought she’d lost forever.

The video ended, but Abigail sat motionless, unable to process what she’d just seen. She replayed it, again and again, clinging to his words and the warmth in his gaze.

But before she could fully absorb the bittersweet emotions welling inside her, her phone buzzed again.

It was another video.

This time, as she opened it, her world shattered anew.

The screen showed Sebastian and Gabriella. He was wrapping a scarf around her neck with the utmost care, his eyes filled with unmistakable tenderness—as if she were the only person who mattered in the world.

Gabriella reached up, gently stopping him. “Sebastian, isn’t this the scarf Abigail knitted for you? I shouldn’t wear it—it wouldn’t be right.”

Abigail’s eyes darted to the scarf, and her breath caught in her throat. It was the one she had painstakingly knitted for Sebastian on their second anniversary.

Abigail’s mind spiraled as she stared at the paused video. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, trembling.

She pressed play again.

The memory of Sebastian’s reaction when she gave him the scarf resurfaced vividly. His smile had been radiant, his joy uncontainable.

“Abby, I like it very much,” he had said, immediately wrapping it around his neck. “I’ll definitely cherish it.”

That moment had felt like a promise, one of countless assurances of their love.

But now, in the video, his words cut through her like shards of glass.

“Don’t be in a bad mood,” Sebastian said softly to Gabriella. “Wear it obediently. You’ll be cold later.”

He adjusted the scarf around her neck with a tenderness that was once hers. “If Gabriella doesn’t like it, you can do whatever you want with this scarf. But for now, you must wear it.”

Abigail’s heart clenched as she watched him hand over the scarf she had painstakingly knitted—a symbol of her love—and tell Gabriella she could treat it however she wished.

The video ended abruptly, leaving her staring at the empty screen, her chest tightening with unbearable pain.

Before she could process the hurt, another notification lit up her phone. It was a text message from an unknown number.

With trembling hands, she opened it.

The words hit her like a thunderclap:

"Sebastian only likes me now. He hates you so much. If you ask me, you should give up your position as soon as possible."

Abigail's hand clenched around the phone so tightly that she didn’t notice the pain until it became unbearable. Slowly, she loosened her grip and placed the phone down, her fingers trembling.

She raised her eyes to the dark night sky outside, her gaze hollow and unfocused. A single question echoed in her mind: Is Sebastian still the man I knew?

How could someone change so much in just a single week?

Her thoughts spiraled back to the video, replaying it in her mind over and over again, as though dissecting it might somehow restore the man she loved. She clung to memories of the past, the weight of nostalgia, the only thing anchoring her as she stumbled through this thorny path.

As she had come to expect, Sebastian didn’t return that night. The once warm and lively bed felt unbearably cold, and she fell asleep with tears staining her pillow.

The next morning, Abigail sat at the dining table, eating breakfast in the silence that had become her new normal. The sound of the villa door opening startled her, and she looked up to see Sebastian entering.

Her heart stirred involuntarily, and she rose to greet him, the name slipping from her lips out of habit. “Sebastian...”

He didn’t even glance her way. His voice was ice when he said, “I told you not to call me that.”

Without waiting for a response, he strode upstairs, his back turned to her.

Abigail stood frozen in place, staring blankly at him as he disappeared. Habits weren’t so easy to change. For almost four years, she had called him that, and he had always corrected her whenever she used his full name, insisting it made them sound too distant.

But now...

A few minutes later, he came back down, dressed in fresh clothes.

“Sebastian, where are you going?” she asked, this time remembering his demand.

Her attempt to comply didn’t placate him. His dissatisfaction lingered, though even he couldn’t quite explain it. Irritation flashed in his eyes as he snapped, “Do I need to report to you where I’m going?”

She bit back a response, letting the question hang in the air as he walked out the door.

At six in the evening, her phone buzzed, breaking the uneasy quiet of the day. She picked it up and saw his name on the screen.

His voice on the other end was curt, almost mechanical. “Take the ‘Ivory Dream’ and come to the Golden Sands Banquet Hall.”

Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Abigail stared at the phone, her mind struggling to process his words. Ivory Dream. Her fingers instinctively reached for the necklace—a delicate crescent moon pendant he had given her on their first anniversary. Back then, his words had been tender: “You’re my Abby, my dream. This is for you, my light.”

But now, his cold tone made the memory feel like a cruel mockery.

Her chest tightened as she glanced at the clock. Why would he call her to a banquet on New Year’s Day? And why specifically ask her to wear this necklace?

Ivory Dream was the wedding gift Sebastian had given her on their wedding day. It was no ordinary necklace, but a set of crownshaped necklaces, each meticulously crafted with exquisite detail. The set was incredibly expensive, and there was only one in existence—created solely for her.

Abigail had never worn it casually, always too afraid of damaging it. She reserved it for only the most important occasions.

Tonight, as she prepared to leave, she climbed upstairs to change into a chestwrapped dress that would complement the necklace’s brilliance. The pendant settled on her skin, its delicate silver gleaming against her fair complexion, making her look even more striking than usual.

She hailed a taxi and made her way to the Golden Sands Banquet Hall. When she arrived, she stepped out of the car, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Her eyes immediately found Sebastian standing at the entrance. She assumed he was waiting for her, so she hurried toward him.

But as she drew closer, her heart sank. There, standing beside him, was Gabriella. Her presence, so familiar and yet so foreign, crushed Abigail’s spirits in an instant.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered over to her, but instead of the warmth she had once known, his expression darkened.

"Why are you dressed like this?" he asked, his voice colder than she remembered.

Abigail froze. Her mind raced as she realized her mistake—he hadn’t asked her to attend the banquet at all. She had misunderstood everything.

Embarrassment flooded through her, and she nervously pinched her fingers together, unsure of how to explain herself.

Sebastian, however, didn’t seem to care about the miscommunication. His focus was elsewhere.

"Where is the necklace?" he asked bluntly.

Abigail instinctively touched the necklace around her neck, her brow furrowing in confusion. Was he planning to sell it?

But her assumptions were wrong. The reality was far more cruel than she had imagined.

Sebastian’s voice was sharp and emotionless. “Take it off.”

She stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat.

Sebastian’s patience seemed to snap. Without another word, he grabbed her by the arm, roughly turning her away from him. As her neck was exposed, he swiftly removed the necklace, his fingers cold against her skin.

Abigail’s heart pounded in her chest as she slowly turned to face him.

What she saw made her world come crashing down.

Sebastian, holding the necklace in his hand, walked past her and toward Gabriella. With an almost tender gesture, he lifted Gabriella’s long hair and placed the precious wedding gift—Ivory Dream—around her neck.

After Sebastian placed the necklace around Gabriella’s neck, he stepped back to admire her, his gaze lingering with a hint of satisfaction. He spoke with a careful precision, "Gabriella is more suited to it. It truly accentuates her nobility."

The implication was clear—Abigail wasn’t worthy of the necklace.

A sharp pain pierced Abigail’s chest, a needlelike sting that left her unable to move. Her hands trembled, and for a moment, she felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Just then, a man approached Sebastian, his gaze briefly flicking to Abigail before he asked with a hint of curiosity, “I know this is the future Mrs. Montgomery—who is she?”

The man was referring to Gabriella as the future Mrs. Montgomery, of course. But it was the second part of his question that struck Abigail like a blow.

Sebastian, without hesitation, glanced at Abigail and replied coldly, “The nanny at home.”

The man’s face froze in confusion. “The nanny is dressed like this?”

Without missing a beat, Sebastian’s voice took on an icy edge. “Don’t recognize your identity?”

His words landed like a slap. The cruel irony in his tone made her feel as though she were being stripped bare, her dignity torn to pieces before a crowd. The beautiful dress that had once made her feel elegant now only seemed to amplify her humiliation.

The man looked at her with a mixture of confusion and judgment, his eyes carrying an unspoken accusation. Abigail felt exposed, as though she were naked in front of the world, vulnerable to their cruel stares.

The banquet began, and the crowd poured into the hall. Sebastian cast one last glance at Abigail, her head bowed in silence. A strange discomfort twisted in his gut, and his heart tightened. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make him frown. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice stiff, “You follow.”

He then offered his arm to Gabriella, leading her into the venue with an easy, practiced grace. Abigail trailed behind them like a shadow, her steps heavy with the weight of her own selfloathing. She fought to keep her composure, her smile a brittle mask of selfdeprecation.

As the evening wore on, Abigail watched in silence as Sebastian doted on Gabriella. He stopped her from drinking too much, gently wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and even adjusting the lipstick on her lips with a careful hand.

Abigail’s chest tightened with each movement. It was all too familiar. She had once been the recipient of his tender care, his lips brushing against hers as he wiped away lipstick, his hands the ones to fix her makeup. But now, she was nothing more than an observer.

Watching him attend to Gabriella in the same way, Abigail’s heart shattered. The pain was unbearable, and she couldn’t stand to watch anymore. She turned away, retreating to the side of the room.

Meanwhile, Sebastian, still absorbed in helping Gabriella with her lipstick, felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He didn’t know why he was so skilled at this—why it felt so natural. What he didn’t realize was that he had learned it all from another girl, a girl who was now a distant memory.

Abigail stood off to the side, the wine glass in her hand trembling slightly as she gazed distantly at the scene unfolding before her. Just as she was about to turn and leave, Gabriella approached her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Abigail," she began, her voice smooth yet laced with a cutting edge, "you saw it today, didn’t you? Sebastian loves me so much. Don’t you feel heartbroken?"

Abigail’s expression didn’t waver. She didn’t flinch, nor did she respond. Gabriella, undeterred, continued with a mocking sweetness, "Leave early, and maybe your heart won’t hurt so much. I’m being sincere when I say, you should leave as soon as you can."

The words pierced her heart, but she maintained her composure, her face a mask of indifference. She didn’t give Gabriella the satisfaction of a reaction.

Gabriella, however, was unfazed. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw Sebastian making his way toward them. With a swift, subtle motion, she tugged at the tablecloth.

A champagne tower teetered dangerously on the edge of the table, and with the slightest pull, it collapsed, sending cascading glasses hurtling toward Abigail.

Before she could react, the cold liquid splashed over her, and the glasses shattered upon impact, their sharp edges cutting into her exposed skin. The pain was immediate and intense, the shards of glass embedding themselves in her flesh. She cried out, but the sound was muffled by the sharp sting of pain that overwhelmed her. In her high heels, her balance faltered, and she crashed to the ground, the sharp glass fragments piercing her skin further.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she lay amidst the broken glass. The pain was excruciating, but her heart hurt even more—aching for the love she had once known.

Through her tears, she looked up. The sight before her was like a cruel irony: Sebastian, who should have been the one to help her, was instead rushing to Gabriella’s side. He held her tightly, his face filled with concern as he checked her for injuries.

Gabriella had only suffered a minor scratch on her finger, yet Sebastian was beside himself with worry. His focus was entirely on her, his face etched with anxiety and urgency.

In that moment, Sebastian caught sight of Abigail, lying on the ground, her body bruised and bleeding from the glass shards. A sharp stab of pain shot through his chest, his heart suddenly aching in a way he couldn’t comprehend. His eyes met hers, and for just a moment, there was a flicker of something—something deep and unspoken.

But it was gone in an instant, buried beneath the surface of his cold, controlled exterior. He quickly turned his attention back to Gabriella, his face a mask of concern, though his eyes still betrayed a flicker of something else. Something he couldn’t recognize, or perhaps didn’t want to.

Abigail lay there, the tears staining her cheeks, her heart feeling more shattered than the glass around her.

Before he could process the situation, Gabriella in his arms let out a soft, pained moan. Immediately, Sebastian’s attention snapped to her, his concern deepening. Without a second thought, he bent down and lifted her into his arms, cradling her carefully as he walked swiftly toward the door, his focus solely on Gabriella.

He didn’t spare a glance at Abigail, the woman he once knew. The sight of them leaving together, so effortlessly and intimately, was enough to send a deep, aching pain through Abigail’s chest. It felt as though her heart had been dropped from an immense height, only to shatter upon impact, pieces scattered beyond repair.

She stood there, frozen for a moment, watching them disappear. The emptiness left in their wake threatened to consume her. With trembling hands, she struggled to rise, the pain in her body flaring up, sending sharp waves of agony through her limbs. The more she moved, the more intense the pain became, until it felt like it was spreading through every inch of her.

Around her, the hum of conversation grew louder, more insistent.

"Who is she?"

"I heard she’s the Montgomery Family’s nanny."

"She’s so young..."

The words, casual and dismissive, were like daggers, each one twisting deeper into her heart. After a long moment, she managed to push past the sharp pain and stagger to her feet. She walked unsteadily toward the exit, her steps faltering. Once outside, she hailed a taxi to the hospital.

When she arrived at the hospital, she found Sebastian and the others already there. His mother, a group of bodyguards, and the head physician were all in tow, following Sebastian, who was still holding Gabriella, into a lavish ward. The scene was overwhelming—a stark contrast to the shattered state she was in.

A bitter smile curled on Abigail’s lips as she turned and walked to the nurse's station.

The nurse gasped upon seeing her and quickly escorted her to the medical room, where a female doctor was called in to treat her wounds. The doctor’s hands were steady and efficient, cleaning and dressing the numerous cuts. The wounds themselves weren’t deep, but there were many, scattered across her arms and legs like a cruel reminder of the evening’s events.

As the doctor worked, she grew a little more talkative, perhaps to ease the tension of the quiet room. "The girl next door is so lucky," she mused, almost absentmindedly. "She looks like a rich lady, and her boyfriend loves her so much. She’s so upset over just a little injury..."

Abigail offered a faint hum in response, the hollow sound escaping her lips. But inside, it felt as though something vital had been ripped out of her, leaving only an unbearable emptiness.

That’s her husband, and yet, he’s next door, anxious over another woman.

The doctor finished bandaging her wounds and was about to offer aftercare instructions when he noticed her expression. He froze, then nervously asked, "Did I hurt you? I’m sorry."

Abigail blinked, confused, and quickly shook her head. "No, no."

But the doctor’s confusion only deepened as he observed her. "Then... why do you look like you're about to cry?"

Abigail was stunned. Was that how she looked? Despite the numbness in her heart, it had somehow made its way to her face. She could only laugh bitterly at herself.

After thanking the doctor, she walked out of the clinic, the silence of the hospital on New Year’s Eve feeling oddly suffocating. As she moved down the corridor, she could hear snippets of conversation from the next room—Sebastian’s voice, soft and concerned.

"Gabriella, does it still hurt? Don’t be stubborn. If it hurts, hold my hand."

"Our Gabriella is so unlucky. Why did she have to stand next to that jinx and get hurt? My poor child."

The words stung like fresh wounds, and Abigail turned her back on them, walking out of the hospital alone. She had never truly been a part of their family. The realization, though sharp, wasn’t new. What had once been an indifference she could tolerate, now felt like a heavy weight in her chest.

When she returned to the villa, everything seemed unchanged, yet it felt emptier, colder than before.

She went to the study, where she saw the commemorative album perched on a high shelf. It was the photo album Sebastian had created after they got together. He had said at the time, “We need to record our beauty so we can look back on it when we’re old.”

Each meaningful photo—whether a picture of them together or one of his solo shots—had been carefully pasted inside, along with his loving messages. For three years, it had been filled with memories, each page a testament to their love. But it stopped abruptly half a month ago.

Abigail flipped through the pages slowly, each word he had written, each image, now weighed heavily on her heart. The love they had shared seemed to have faded, replaced by this cold reality. Her mind wandered back to what Gabriella had said to her at the banquet.

In truth, Gabriella’s words were not entirely unfounded. Abigail found herself hesitating, questioning whether her persistence still held any meaning.

Is he really still the same person?

She had grown accustomed to Sebastian’s late nights, a change that both shocked and numbed her. Was it really that easy to develop a habit? And just as easily, could she forget it all?

The day Gabriella brought Sebastian back, Abigail was in the flower house, watering the plants. This space hadn’t been there before—Sebastian had built it for her after noticing how much she loved flowers.

In her hands, she cradled a flowerpot containing the ashes of her aborted child. When the child had first come into her life, she and Sebastian had been full of hope. They had even chosen names—Madeline if it was a girl, Andrew if it was a boy.

But things hadn’t turned out as they hoped. After the loss, Abigail had taken the ashes and buried them in the soil, planting flowers on top, hoping that her child could somehow be reborn in another form.

Lost in thought, she was jolted by the sound of a door closing. Thinking it was Sebastian returning, she put the flowerpot down and went to the living room, only to find it empty. She heard movement upstairs and made her way toward it.

As she approached the halfopen door to the master bedroom, she froze. Through the crack, she saw Sebastian lying on the bed, and Gabriella bent over him, kissing him passionately.

Just as Abigail thought Gabriella had initiated the kiss, she saw Sebastian’s hand pull the back of Gabriella’s head, pressing her deeper.

Abigail’s face drained of color in an instant. The shock hit her like a physical blow, and her head buzzed with the force of it. Before they could go any further, her legs gave way, and she stumbled out of the villa, her steps unsteady and frantic.

She ran without thinking, her body moving on pure instinct, until her legs could carry her no longer. She bent over, supporting herself with her hands on her knees, a single tear slipping down her cheek without warning.

She couldn’t hold on anymore.

Falling to the ground, she clutched her chest, trying to ease the unbearable ache that felt like her heart was being torn apart. But nothing worked—the pain only deepened, and the tears flowed uncontrollably, as if they were a floodgate opened wide.

In less than a month, she had experienced pain she hadn’t felt in the past three years. She was done. She no longer had any expectations.

We’re no longer on the same path. It’s better to end it now.

Wiping her tears away, she shakily pulled out her phone, dialing a number with trembling hands. "Director, I’ve made up my mind. I want to participate in that project."

Her decision was met with enthusiasm on the other end, and Abigail felt a strange sense of relief.

She didn’t return to the villa that night. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing or hearing anything that would shatter her further.

The next morning, she was awakened by Sebastian’s call. Without even glancing at the screen, she answered, only recognizing his voice when he spoke sharply.

"Are you out all night? If you don’t want to stay at home, then divorce me."

Abigail’s voice was cold and even. "I’ll be back soon."

His words hung in the air, but it was her icy tone that left him speechless. He wanted to say something, but she had already hung up. His frustration grew, though he couldn’t pinpoint where it stemmed from.

After hanging up, Abigail checked out of the hotel and made her way back to the villa.

When she returned, she found Sebastian and Gabriella having breakfast together. Without a word, she headed upstairs, her silence heavy in the air.

As she reached the staircase, Sebastian called out, "Abigail, where are you going? Don’t run off. Wash the dishes."

Abigail lowered her head and let out a bitter laugh at herself. He truly saw her as nothing more than a nanny.

She was done arguing with him, so she simply nodded and headed to the kitchen to clean up the dishes.

Afterward, she made her way to the flower room to put away the pot of flowers, intending to take it later. But as soon as she reached the door, her gaze fell on Gabriella, who was holding the pot of ashes.

A sharp, ringing sensation filled her head, and her voice shot out before she could stop it: "Put it down!"

The command startled Gabriella, making her flinch. Immediately, Sebastian frowned, his voice sharp with irritation. "It's just a flowerpot. You scared Gabriella."

Abigail ignored his words. She didn’t care what he said. Her only focus was getting the pot back.

She walked toward Gabriella, reaching out to grab it, but Gabriella, sensing her urgency, pretended to accidentally let go of the pot.

The pot hit the ground with a sickening thud, shattering into pieces. Brown soil, black ashes, and white ceramic fragments spilled across the floor.

For a moment, the flower room seemed to fall into silence, the world frozen. Abigail stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Rage began to burn in her chest. She clenched her fist, and without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped Gabriella across the face.

A sharp crack echoed in the greenhouse, and Gabriella staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek, stunned and disbelieving.

Both Gabriella and Sebastian stood motionless, shocked by the sudden violence. Sebastian’s shock quickly morphed into fury. The day's building irritation exploded, and his face darkened with anger. He stormed forward, shoving Abigail hard.

"What’s wrong with you? It’s just a flowerpot!" His hands pushed her so forcefully that she stumbled back two steps.

Her vision blurred as she fought to steady herself. Her red eyes met Sebastian’s, now filled with rage. She watched as he turned away, pulling Gabriella to him, walking away with the broken pot under his feet.

Abigail stood there, her heart aching as she looked at the soil scattered across the floor, now marred with four distinct footprints. A tear slid down her face, slipping past her burning gaze.

She knelt to the ground, trembling as she gathered the mess into her hands, trying to piece it together. She carefully placed it into a new flowerpot, her hands shaking with the effort to restore what had been lost.

Once the room was clean, she took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and dialed a number. "Hello, I need to draft a divorce agreement."

Sebastian was no longer the man she once knew. She had been the one trapped in the illusion of the past, holding on to memories that no longer mattered. She should have left long ago, but only now, after being scarred, was she ready to let go.

The divorce agreement arrived shortly after, and as she thought about when to give it to him, Sebastian returned.

He entered the room, sitting on the sofa with a stern expression, as if interrogating her. "Go apologize to Gabriella. You hit her too hard the other day, and her face is swollen."

Abigail’s frustration flared. He was being utterly unreasonable. A sharp, sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she replied coolly, "She touched my things first and then deliberately dropped them."

"Deliberately?" Sebastian’s voice rose with anger. "Gabriella dropped it by accident. Even if it was intentional, it’s just a flowerpot. Does it really matter?"

His words stung, and it felt as if she were the one in the wrong. She stared at him, a deep sadness welling up inside her. She couldn’t understand how the man she once knew had become so foreign.

People’s hearts are so fickle.

She didn’t plan to tell him the pot had contained ashes. It was better if he never knew—some truths were too painful to remember, and revealing them would only bring more suffering.

Seeing her silence, Sebastian assumed she realized her mistake. He crossed his arms, his voice more condescending now. "If you apologize, this will all be over. Otherwise, I’ll end the contract of repaying gratitude."

The words felt like a hollow threat, and Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. She turned toward the dining room, her laugh confusing him.

As she entered the dining room, Sebastian was about to call her when he saw her return, holding something in her hand.

Abigail tossed the divorce agreement onto the coffee table, her voice cold and ambiguous as she muttered, "Okay."

Sebastian stared at the document for a moment, frozen. He picked it up, flipped it open, and his eyes immediately landed on the bold words at the top: Divorce Agreement. He scanned through it repeatedly, as if unable to believe what he was reading. When he reached the section on property, his eyes widened in disbelief. "You don’t want anything?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Abigail didn’t want nothing—just what was hers. Her own money. Nothing more from Sebastian. She had no desire to explain herself and simply replied, "Sign it, quickly."

Her words, laced with impatience and a clear desire to be rid of him, ignited a flicker of rage in Sebastian. He grabbed the pen, his grip tight and angry, and signed his name on the paper.

Though his heart ached as if it were breaking into pieces, he forced his voice to remain steady, unwilling to show weakness. "You don’t want anything? Don’t come crawling back for favors that aren’t yours in the future!"

After signing, he slammed the pen onto the table with frustration, his face contorted in pain. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the villa, suppressing the ache in his chest.

Abigail watched him leave, her expression unreadable. She took her share of the property, placed it in a suitcase, and made her way upstairs to pack her belongings.

There wasn’t much to pack; most of her things had been gifts from Sebastian, and she hadn’t bought many items herself. It was his insistence that she wear the things he bought her, a control she had learned to live with.

As she finished packing, her phone rang. It was the institute, informing her that her plane ticket was scheduled for 1 p.m. the day after tomorrow.

For the next two days, Sebastian didn’t return, nor did he push her to move out. The silence between them allowed her a sense of relief—she could finally breathe.

The day before she was to leave, her phone rang again. It was her college class monitor. "Abby, we’re having a class reunion tomorrow. Don’t forget to come."

Abigail hesitated for a moment. Tomorrow was the day she was leaving, and there was no time. She declined politely, "I can’t, I have something to do."

But her classmate’s response surprised her. "Aren’t you coming? Sebastian is coming, too. Why are you both coming but not together?"

Abigail froze, stunned by the news. She hadn’t expected him to attend, but it had nothing to do with her anymore. She forced a faint smile, offering another excuse. "I have something to handle," she said before quickly ending the call.

On the day she left, Abigail dug up the wish bottle from the yard. It was something she and Sebastian had buried together the day they moved into the house. Each of them had buried one, neither knowing the other’s wish.

Now, as she held her own bottle, she read the words she had written: I hope Abigail and Sebastian can grow old together, and I hope he can be healthy forever.

A bittersweet ache tugged at her heart. That wish would never come true—not for them. With a deep sigh, she tossed the bottle into the trash can, as if erasing the past with a single motion.

At 11 a.m., she left the house, suitcase in tow, leaving behind everything, even the memories of the two years she had spent there. As she stepped outside, she paused for a moment, glancing back at the place where she had once been happy. For three seconds, she stood still, then turned away, resolute.

By 12:30 p.m., she was at the airport, and the plane was ready for takeoff.

As soon as she boarded, her phone began vibrating incessantly. She checked the screen—dozens of messages from Sebastian. Without hesitation, she powered off her phone, removed the SIM card, and slipped it into her bag. Silence.

Two hours later, the plane landed. When she exited the airport, she was greeted by the director of the institute, a familiar face—her former university mentor, now the director of the very institute she was joining.

"Abigail, welcome to Luna Isle," the director said warmly.

Abigail smiled faintly, giving a brief hug. The director had been the first person to think of her when this project came up, and now she was here, far from the life she had left behind.

Once in the car, the director spoke again, a smile in her voice. "Our research this time is strictly confidential. Our whereabouts must remain a secret. For now, it’s still fine, but you should call Sebastian, or he might come looking for you."