10:
<
The bracelet.
I remained silent, unclasping it and tossing it
in the trash. David’s eyes widened.
He scrambled to the trash can, frantically
digging through it, sobbing.
“I found it! See? It’s still perfect.”
He fumbled to refasten it on my wrist, his eyes pleading.
“Sarah, see? The bracelet’s still here. Our love
is still here, right? Forgive me. Let’s start
over.”
I wiped my hand, disgusted.
“Wake up, David. It’s over.”
He stared at me, his eyes filled with despair.
“No, it can’t be over. Sarah, you can’t do this to me. I love you!”
I shook my head.
“Love me? Don’t make me laugh. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have pawned our child, our memories. You only love yourself.”
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, tears welling in
his eyes.
“Don’t apologize. Just sign the divorce papers.” My voice was flat.
Even with
<
Even without my memories, I knew my
marriage was a disaster.
He seemed not to hear. “I won’t divorce you.
You’ve just lost your memory. I’ll help you remember! We can still fix this!”
He reached for me again.
A strong hand gripped his arm, pulling him
back.
Michael stepped between us.
David stumbled, regaining his balance. He
stared at us, his eyes filled with anger and
despair.
The two men locked eyes, neither backing
down.
<
“Haven’t you hurt her enough?” Michael
growled. “How much more pain do you want
to inflict?”
David flinched, his gaze flickering, a flicker of something akin to guilt crossing his features.
He looked down, then back at me, his throat
working.
“One last chance. Won’t you even give me
that?”
I looked at him, a flicker of amusement in my
eyes. “Do you think you deserve another
chance?”
His face paled further. He opened his mouth,
but no words came out.
く
He finally realized he had lost me.
After that night, David disappeared.
All that arrived was a signed divorce
agreement.
I heard he was admitted to a psychiatric
hospital. He died a month later.
That day, I lit a lantern by the river for my lost
child.
The flame flickered in the breeze, a silent
acknowledgment of my grief.
