I Don’t Love You, I Don’t Remember You, I Don’t Need You

I stood there frozen as he came closer. For a moment our eyes met when he passed by me... He slowed down slightly, almost like he recognized me. His gaze swept over my face. Cold. Sharp. There was nothing in his eyes except distance. It felt like a blade sliding across my skin. Then he looked away as if I didn't exist and kept walking straight toward the emergency room, still holding Amber close. My fingers curled slowly at my sides. I didn't follow him. I stayed there staring at the ground, trying to think about what I should do next. Go back to parents who clearly didn't want me? Find a husband who couldn't even stand looking at me? What kind of life had I been living before this? I barely had time to finish that thought when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around. Manuel had come back. Before I could react, his hand grabbed my wrist. His grip was strong enough to make me frown. He stared at me for a moment before asking, “You have Rh-negative blood, right?” I blinked in confusion. “I… I don't know. I just woke up today and I can't remember any—” He cut me off by pulling me along the hallway. “Amber was in a car accident,” he said quickly. “She lost a lot of blood and the hospital doesn't have enough of her type right now. They said you might match.” His voice stayed calm, but there was clear urgency in it. “Will you donate some blood for her?” I opened my mouth to answer, still trying to process everything. “I… I don't even know—” Suddenly his hand moved to the back of my head. Before I understood what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss lasted less than a second. It was cold and empty, almost mechanical. Then he pulled away and looked at me again with those same distant eyes. “Is that enough? Can we go donate blood now?” I just stood there staring at him, my brain still blank from what just happened. The next thing I knew, a nurse was already guiding me toward the blood collection room. Everything moved quickly after that. I was placed in a chair, my sleeve rolled up, equipment prepared. Through the door I could hear nurses whispering to each other. “Isn't that Mrs. Davenport?” one of them murmured. “Yeah. The one who tried killing herself almost fifty times.” Another nurse let out a soft laugh. “I heard the first time she tried it was because she wanted President Davenport to kiss her. The second time she begged him to go on a date with her. Then the third time she asked to spend the night with him.” “And he rejected her every single time,” someone added. “That's so embarrassing.” Another voice chimed in quietly. “Well, looks like she finally got her kiss today.” A small pause followed. “Too bad it was only because Miss Amber needed blood.” Someone sighed. “Imagine finally getting what you begged for and realizing it was only for another woman. That's gotta hurt.” The needle slid into my vein. It stung. But the pain felt strangely distant. Through the glass window beside me, I could see another hospital room down the hall. Manuel stood beside Amber's bed. He held her hand carefully in both of his, his long fingers wrapped around hers as if she was something incredibly precious. Then he lowered his head and gently kissed the back of her hand. That kiss was completely different. Soft. Careful. Full of affection. I watched them quietly while my blood slowly filled the bag beside me. Strangely, I didn't feel happy. But I didn't feel heartbroken either. Maybe the old Aurora would have cried. Maybe she would have felt like her chest was tearing apart. But I remembered nothing. The pain of the needle stayed dull and far away, almost as if there was a thin wall separating me from everything. I stared at the dark red line moving through the tube and a small thought slipped into my mind. Was my life really that miserable before? Did I really beg someone like him for love again and again? The idea felt strange. And then another thought came quietly after it. Maybe losing all my memories wasn't the worst thing that could've happened. Maybe forgetting everything… was the only mercy God ever gave me. After they finished taking my blood, I walked out of the room feeling lightheaded. They said it was about 400 cc. My legs felt weak and my vision kept going blurry, like the hallway lights were smearing together. I leaned against the wall for a while and tried to breathe slowly. Should I just leave? But then another problem hit me. Where was I even supposed to go? I didn't know my parents' address. I didn't know where Manuel lived. I didn't know anything. After standing there for a long time, I forced myself to walk down the hall. Manuel was still outside Amber's room. I stopped a few feet away from him and spoke carefully. “Manuel… can you tell me our home address?” He turned to look at me, his brows already pulling together. I quickly added, “I'll give you something in return. A gift.” His expression darkened instantly. “A gift? What kind of game are you playing now?” I shook my head weakly. “It's not a game.” He let out a short laugh that wasn't amused at all. “Aurora, you've tried killing yourself nearly fifty times. And now you're telling me you forgot where your own house is?” I swallowed. “I... I lost my memory. The doctor said it's dissociative amnesia.” He stared at me for a moment, clearly not believing a single word. Then he said flatly, “The driver is waiting outside. Tell him to take you home.” That was it. I nodded slowly. “Okay… thank you.” Then I added quietly, “I'll still prepare the gift.” His face turned colder. “You don't have to. I'm not interested in anything you give me. Stop trying to please me. It's pointless.” For a moment I just looked at him. Then I lowered my eyes and gave a tiny smile. “Are you sure?” Because this gift… You are definitely going to notice it. I didn't say that out loud though. I walked outside and got into the car. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Good afternoon, ma'am. Home?” “Yeah,” I said quietly. But before the car even left the hospital parking lot, I pulled out my phone. My contacts list was full of unfamiliar names. I scrolled slowly until one stood out. Lawyer. I opened the chat and typed a message. “Hello. I need your help. I want to divorce my husband and also legally cut ties with my parents. Can you prepare a divorce agreement and a document to terminate the parent-child relationship?” The reply came almost immediately. “Of course, Ms. Moore. I'll start drafting the paperwork right away.” I stared at the message for a few seconds before locking the phone. Outside the window, buildings and cars rushed past. Everything looked new. Maybe it actually was. If I really forgot everything… wasn't that the same as starting over? “Driver,” I suddenly said. “Yes, ma'am?” “Don't go home yet. Can you take me to the immigration office first?” The driver blinked and glanced at me through the mirror again. “The immigration office?” “Yeah,” I said. “I need to process some paperwork.” He looked confused, but he still nodded. “Alright, ma'am. We'll head there now.” The ride was quiet after that. The immigration office wasn't busy and everything went surprisingly smoothly. The staff checked my documents and explained the process. One of them smiled politely. “Everything looks good, Ms. Moore. Your paperwork should be finished in about half a month.”

When I got back into the car, I hesitated for a second before speaking. “Can I ask you something?” “Of course, ma'am.” “Please don't tell Manuel about today,” I said softly. “About the immigration office.” The driver's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. After a moment he said carefully, “Ma'am… to be honest, the boss has always told us not to talk about you in front of him.” I blinked. “What do you mean?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “He told the staff not to mention you unless it's absolutely necessary.” I couldn't help letting out a quiet laugh. “So he doesn't even want to hear my name?” The driver didn't answer. ... When we arrived at the house, I stepped out and looked up at the large villa in front of me. The place felt strange. At the same time… it also felt a little familiar. The furniture looked expensive and elegant. The colors and decorations were exactly the kind of style I liked. I walked over to the couch and ran my fingers across the embroidered cushions. Did I decorate all this? If I did… I must've been excited back then. Maybe I imagined living here happily with Manuel. Maybe I thought marriage meant something. My eyes landed on the big wedding photo hanging on the wall. I stepped closer. In the picture, I was smiling brightly. My eyes were full of love as I looked at the man beside me. Manuel stood next to me in his suit. His face was handsome. And completely expressionless. He wasn't even looking at me. I stared at that photo for a few seconds before shaking my head. Then I turned and walked upstairs. When I entered the bedroom, my body moved on instinct. I walked straight to the dresser and pulled open one of the drawers. Something slid out immediately. A leather notebook fell onto the floor with a soft thud. I opened the diary and flipped to the first page. The handwriting was messy and crooked, the kind someone wrote while drunk or crying too hard to hold the pen steady. “First day of marriage with Manuel. He went straight to his study and didn't say a single word to me. It's fine. I'll wait for him.” My chest tightened a little. I kept turning the pages. Each one felt heavier than the last. “26th suicide attempt today. He still didn't come. My assistant said Amber had a fever so he stayed with her all night. I was in the ER alone listening to the IV drip until morning.” My fingers trembled. I forced myself to read the next entry. “39th time. I took sleeping pills again. When I woke up, I heard Manuel in the hallway on the phone. He sounded annoyed. He said, “Just let her die.” I think that moment hurt more than the attempt itself. Hearing the person you love most wish you were gone.” My vision blurred for a second. The next page was even worse. “49th time. I think I'm done. If this doesn't work either, I'll just disappear somewhere. Nobody in this world actually cares if I exist. Goodbye.” I shut the diary so fast it made a sharp sound. My chest felt like something had been torn open inside it. I looked down at my wrists and suddenly noticed the thin pale scars crossing the skin. I hadn't even paid attention to them earlier, but now they burned as if every mark was accusing me. So this was my life? I slowly crouched on the floor and hugged my knees, my forehead resting against them. For six years I lived like that. Begging for scraps of attention from a man who didn't even want me alive. What kind of person had I been… how desperate did you have to be to keep doing that, Aurora? A few tears slipped down before I wiped them away quickly. “It's fine,” I whispered to myself, “It's okay if nobody loves you. You'll be okay.” I placed the diary back in the drawer and closed it. Moonlight came through the window and settled on the floor near my feet. I stared at that pale patch of light for a while and muttered quietly, “As long as you don't give up on yourself… you haven't lost everything.” ... The villa stayed empty for the next few days. Manuel never came back and no one visited. Strangely it didn't feel unbearable. Maybe because I didn't remember loving anyone here. Maybe because there was no one around to hurt me again. I just stayed quietly in the house, waiting for the immigration papers to be finished. The quiet ended when my phone rang. It was my mother. The moment I answered, her cold voice came through. “Amber's birthday banquet is tomorrow night at seven. Enchanted Star Hotel. Don't be late.” I hesitated. “I don't think I—” “That's all,” she cut in flatly, and the call ended before I could finish. I stared at the screen for a moment. She didn't even wait for an answer. The next evening I picked the simplest black dress I could find and went to the hotel. The banquet hall was huge and bright, filled with people laughing and talking. Amber stood in the center surrounded by guests, smiling sweetly while everyone praised her. Manuel stood nearby, and it was the first time I'd seen him in days. Two women beside me were whispering. “Amber really hit the jackpot,” one said quietly. “Her parents adore her and even Manuel Davenport treats her like a princess.” The other woman nodded. “Of course. I heard he arranged this entire party himself. The champagne was flown in from Italy this morning. One bottle costs six figures. And those flowers came straight from the Netherlands.” I glanced around the room. The entire hall looked like a fancy garden. “Apparently the design is based on Morako's garden paintings,” the woman continued. “Amber loves that style. They spent more than fifteen million dollars decorating this place.” I took a small sip of wine and looked toward Manuel. He wore a black suit tonight, the collar slightly open, the top button undone. He looked relaxed and expensive at the same time. But what caught my attention wasn't the suit. He was crouching beside Amber, carefully adjusting the hem of her dress so it wouldn't drag. His face held a gentle smile I had never seen before. So he could smile like that. Just not at me. The host's voice suddenly echoed across the hall, asking everyone to quiet down. My parents walked onto the stage with Amber between them. My father cleared his throat and looked proudly at the guests before speaking. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate Amber's birthday. But we also have some important family news to announce.” The room fell silent. He placed a hand on Amber's shoulder and continued calmly, “Starting today, Amber will inherit sixty percent of the shares of Moore Group.” Gasps and whispers spread through the hall immediately. I tightened my grip on the wine glass in my hand. Wow.

I froze when Manuel stepped onto the stage and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it, and there it was—a delicate crystal tiara, sparkling under the lights. Someone in the crowd gasped. “Isn’t that the Davenport heirloom? I heard Old Madam Davenport left it for the wife of the eldest grandson.” Another voice added loud enough for people nearby to hear, “Wow. Giving the family tiara to his wife’s younger sister? President Davenport is basically shoving Aurora aside in public.” Manuel carefully placed the tiara on Amber’s head. Perfect fit. Amber looked toward the corner where I was standing, her voice soft but deliberate. “Dad, Mom, Manuel… doesn’t this feel wrong? After all, Aurora is the Moore family’s real daughter and your wife. Shouldn’t these things belong to her?” My parents immediately grabbed her hands, shaking their heads. “What are you saying? Aurora married well, and she has the Davenport family backing her. This is just planning ahead for you, giving you what’s rightfully yours.” Manuel’s calm voice cut through. “If it hadn’t been for that accident, this would have been yours anyway.” I felt like someone had ripped the air out of the room. My parents’ words hit like slaps, Manuel’s like knives. The crowd’s eyes felt like spotlights scanning me, full of pity, ridicule, enjoyment of my misery. I could practically feel Amber smirking, showing off her victory. I should have felt sick or crushed, but I didn’t. I felt… calm. I set down my wine glass quietly and turned away. People whispered behind me. “Look, her eyes are red… she must have cried in the bathroom.” “Poor thing, her parents and husband all favor the adopted daughter.” I didn’t care. I went straight to the restroom. The reflection staring back at me wasn’t crying. My makeup was intact, my eyes dry. I’d forgotten everything. The way I’d begged my parents for love, begged Manuel to notice me, begged for scraps of care. All of it was gone. Those people I once worshiped felt like strangers now. I touched up my lipstick and was about to leave when I stopped. Down the corridor, Manuel had Amber pinned against the wall, kissing her hard. His hands were in her hair, his other hand gripping her waist like he didn’t want to let go. Amber leaned back, tilting her neck, letting him. After what felt like forever, he pulled back slightly and rubbed her lips with his thumb. His voice was low and rough. “Satisfied now, baby?” Amber smiled against him, soft and sweet. “Manuel, I know I’m asking a lot. I already have the family tiara, but I still wanted a kiss… If my sister saw this, she’d probably be crushed again.” He shook his head and held her tighter. “That’s not my fuckinv problem. I never liked her. I could never like her. You’re the one I’ve always loved, Amber.” He kissed her again, and I froze, feeling my chest tighten as if someone was squeezing it. Is this… the leftover warmth from when I loved him? I raised my hand to my heart, wondering if it would ever go away. The kiss went on for what felt like three minutes, and then Manuel finally stepped back and walked away. I waited until Manuel and Amber disappeared completely before stepping out of the shadows. I took a shaky breath, straightened my skirt, and was about to head back to grab my bag and leave. But the second I walked into the hall, Amber ran up to me and grabbed my wrist hard. “Sister, if you like the tiara Manuel gave me, I can give it to you. So why would you steal it?!” I froze. “Steal it? What are you talking about?” “You’re still pretending!” Amber’s voice shook, her eyes red. “I just went to the restroom and the tiara was gone. The waiter said you were the only one near my bag!” Before I could even respond, my parents rushed over. They slapped me, no words, just pure anger. “Aurora! You can’t be happy unless you’re causing trouble every single day, can you?!” My cheeks burned from the hit, and before I could even speak, my mother screamed. “Guards! Search her now!” Waiters swarmed me, yanking at my dress roughly. “I didn’t steal it! Let me go!” I yelled, trying to pull away, panic rising. The sound of fabric tearing echoed, and suddenly my shoulder was exposed. Gasps and snickers swept across the hall, making my stomach twist. “Found it!” a waiter shouted, pulling the crystal tiara out of my bag. “It was with her all along.” Amber grabbed it immediately, tears streaming down her face. “Sister, what do you have to say for yourself now?” I shook, my words stuck in my throat. My mind felt like it was breaking again. I wanted to scream, to explain, to make them see, but no sound came out. Then the crowd seemed to part by itself. The echo of heavy, measured footsteps grew louder, cutting through all the noise. I looked up and froze. Manuel was walking toward me. Each step made my chest tighten, his polished leather shoes clicking against the marble like they were stamping on my heart. “Why would you steal it? Have you forgotten? I’ve never treated you like my wife.” I looked up at him, at the coldness in his eyes. “Aurora, some things aren’t meant for you. And they’ll never be yours.” I blinked and a small smile spread across my face, one he didn’t expect. I could see his brow twitch slightly, subtle but noticeable. He’d seen me cry, scream, make a scene, but he’d never seen me look like this. Like I’d let something go. “I didn’t steal it,” I said softly, my voice carrying clearly across the hall. The light from the chandelier hit my eyes and made them shine, though it wasn’t tears—just… clarity, maybe. I took a deep breath, forcing the words out slowly, one by one. “And… I don’t like you anymore.” The room froze. Every pair of eyes turned to me, wide with shock. They couldn’t believe it. Me. Aurora. The girl who had thrown herself at him, who had begged for scraps of attention, who had cried for him endlessly. Saying I didn’t like him anymore. But it was true. I didn’t.

All eyes were on me. Everyone was staring, their faces wide with shock. Only Manuel didn’t move, standing in front of me, perfectly dressed in a sharp suit, expression cold and empty, his eyes completely unreadable. “How many times are you gonna play this game?” His voice was low, slow, full of sarcasm, and it cut through me. “I’ve told you over and over, no matter how much you act out, it won’t work.” He leaned slightly forward, “I don’t like you. I just don’t like you.” The words hit me like ice. The crowd snapped out of their shock and whispers started spreading fast. “I knew it! How could Miss Moore suddenly stop loving President Davenport?” “Yeah, she tried to kill herself forty-nine times just to get him to notice her more.” “Tsk tsk, how sad and pathetic…” I clenched my fists so hard my nails cut into my palms, but I didn’t even feel it. I opened my mouth, trying to say it again. I wasn’t playing. I really didn’t love him anymore. Before I could speak, my father’s voice cut through, stern and sharp. “I apologize to everyone. It’s our fault for failing to raise her. That’s why she’s done something as shameful as stealing.” He waved a hand to the bodyguards. “Take her to the hotel’s cold storage. Let her freeze overnight. Maybe she’ll sober up.” My pupils shrank, my chest froze. “I told you I didn’t steal it!” I shouted, but no one even looked at me. Two bodyguards grabbed my wrists roughly. I struggled, but then a sudden sharp pain shot up the back of my neck. I stumbled backward, my vision going blurry. My last sight before darkness took me was Manuel standing there, looking completely indifferent. Not a flicker of worry, not even a frown. I woke up to biting cold. My eyelashes were frosted over, my breath came out in white clouds, and my body was stiff. My skin felt frozen, and even my blood seemed like it had slowed down. The thermometer in my head told me it was well below zero. I was only wearing a thin slip dress. My exposed skin was turning blue. I had to survive. I had to. The immigration papers would be ready soon. I had to leave. I had to start over. I forced myself to crawl toward the door. My fingers were numb, purple and stiff, but I pounded on the metal door anyway. “Help… please… someone… help me…” My voice was barely recognizable, hoarse and cracked. Still no answer. Then I heard a voice outside, soft, laughing. “Stop knocking, sister.” I froze. Amber. Her voice dripped with smugness. “Everyone’s busy celebrating my birthday right now. Who’s got time for you?” She laughed lightly. “Oh, and here’s a funny thing…” “Is today your birthday too?” I croaked, voice shaking. “Unfortunately, no one remembers. Aw, such pity.” She giggled, cruelly. I bit my lip so hard it tasted like blood. “I’m the center of attention in a huge, fancy banquet hall while you’re freezing half to death in a storage room,” Amber continued. “Aurora, so what if you’re a real rich heiress? So what if I came from an orphanage?” I could hear her smirk through the words. “You’re still under my feet to stomp on.” I closed my eyes, trying not to puke from the metallic taste rising in my throat. Then her phone started ringing, and Amber had it on speaker, obviously so I could hear everything. “Amber, where did you go?” Manuel’s voice came through, deep, calm, and… warm. The kind of voice I’d never heard him use with me. “I feel a little dizzy…” Amber’s voice sounded weak and fragile. “I’m in the lounge…” “Stay there. I’ll be right there, baby. Wait for me.” Then the call ended, leaving the cold storage dead silent again. I closed my eyes. That voice brought everything back. The diary, the pages blurred with my tears. All those nights I spent scribbling my misery. All the times I watched him dote on Amber. The birthday last year where he rented the whole revolving restaurant just to show her snow. The fever she had while he stayed by her side all night, missing company events. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her but turned icy whenever he saw me. I remembered how pathetic I felt, hiding in shadows, watching them fall in love while I begged for scraps of attention. And I realized something… I didn’t love him anymore. I hadn’t loved him in a long time. My lips twitched into a small, bitter smile, and then darkness swallowed me. ... When I woke up, I was in my bed at the villa. Loud, ridiculous laughter and some cartoon voices shook the walls outside. I propped myself up, rubbed my eyes, and walked to the door. Amber was sitting on the living room floor, legs crossed, snacks in her arms, doubled over laughing at the TV. “Sister’s awake?” she said, looking up with a grin. “Oops, did I wake you? Sorry about my cartoons.” She crunched her chips loudly and kept talking. “I’ve been feeling tight in my chest these last few days. The villa air is nice, so Manuel let me stay a few days to recover… Hope you don’t mind, sister.” I glanced at the sofa. Manuel was there, flipping through financial statements, long fingers moving carefully, eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses sharp and focused. TV blaring, Amber making every sound possible, and he didn’t even flinch. I remembered something from my diary. The day I sat next to him eating an apple. He got angry, said the chewing noise was disturbing, told me to leave. From then on, every movement, every breath had to be quiet when he was in the study. Now… Amber rattled the chips bag, made all sorts of sound effects with the anime, and he didn’t look up once. The difference between love and no love was so clear. I was about to speak, but Manuel finally said, “If it hadn’t been for that accident back then, this family would have been yours.” His tone was flat, eyes still on the documents. “She’s just a usurper. Why do you need to report to her?” I stayed calm. “Yes, you don’t need to report to me. Stay as long as you want.” He paused, turned the page, and finally glanced at me. His gaze shifted behind his glasses, slightly lower, and I caught it. This wasn’t the scared me he was used to. This wasn't me begging for scraps. I felt a flicker inside me, a small spark I hadn’t felt in years. I didn’t belong to them anymore. And maybe, finally, I didn’t care.

I stayed in my room all day, listening to the noise outside. Amber had the TV blasted so loud the walls shook, walking around in heels on the hardwood, laughing and talking to herself like she owned the place. She even opened Manuel’s expensive red wine to drink with fried chicken. Every single thing she did would’ve made him furious in the past. I remembered the cold stares, the clipped words, the way he’d stop me if I even breathed wrong. And now, I heard him quietly tell her, “Eat slowly. Nobody’s going to take anything from you. Relax, I’ve got it.” I didn’t leave until dinner. When I got to the table, it was already set with plates of food, and Amber was sitting next to Manuel, grinning like the queen of the house. “Manuel, look at this, I can’t believe you remembered all my favorites! The fried chicken just the way I like it, and this wine, perfect pairing, you’re so amazing.” “Yes,” he said softly, “I remembered everything you like, down to the smallest detail. I want tonight to be perfect for you. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks and I want to make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” Amber’s eyes sparkled and she turned toward me, calling, “Sister, come on, don’t just stand there, join us! There’s plenty for everyone. Manuel’s been so thoughtful setting all this up. Don’t you want some too?” I walked to the other end of the table quietly, feeling like I had wandered into someone else’s life by accident. I picked up a piece of food, tried to take a bite, and felt my throat itch. I frowned and tried another dish, but the burning, prickling feeling only got worse. “Sister, what’s wrong?” Amber exclaimed suddenly. “Why are your hands all red? Are you allergic to something? You’re scratching and I can see the rash spreading—oh my God, do you need help?” I looked down. My arms were covered in angry red rashes. My chest felt tight, my breaths coming fast, and I tried to speak but nothing came out. I barely managed to point to my bag where the emergency meds were. Amber jumped up, almost knocking her chair over, and ran toward my bag, but she stumbled and spilled a bowl of scalding soup right onto my arms. “Ah! Oh my God!” she screamed. The burning pain shot through me, and tears ran down my face before I even realized it. I saw Manuel moving quickly, but not toward me. He was holding Amber, checking her hands like she was the most precious thing in the world. “Did you burn yourself? Fuck! I told you to be careful! How could you be so careless?” My vision blurred. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was him carrying her away. ... When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The nurse was changing my IV drip. “Your allergy was so severe you could have died. You also have second-degree burns. And no one has come to see you in four days. Why hasn’t anyone come for you? Does your family not know?” I opened my mouth, but then heard whispers outside. “I heard President Davenport booked the entire floor?” “Yes, all because Miss Moore got burned. He’s spoiling her so much, if I’d come a little later her wounds might have healed by now. Can you believe it?” “She’s so lucky. I wouldn’t even know what to do if I had someone do all this for me.” I closed my eyes slowly. “I… I have no family.” The nurse hesitated for a second and then quietly left. The ward had been quiet for a while when my phone buzzed. I fumbled to answer it, and a frail but strong voice came through. “Rora it’s me, Grandpa.” I froze. The Davenport patriarch, the only elder in my diary who’d ever been kind to me, was on the line. “Rora I know what’s been happening lately,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “You’ve been through too much. Now that Manuel has married you, he has to treat you right. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one mistreats you.” I felt a tingle in my nose and my chest ached in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I almost cried. “No need, Grandpa, I’m fine.” “You’re heartbreaking Rora” he said, sighing. “You’re supposed to be this young lady from a rich family, and yet look at you. Abducted as a child, ignored by your own parents, while they spoiled their adopted daughter instead. And Manuel…” His voice faltered for a second, thick with frustration and sorrow. “You’ve done everything for him. Learned every massage technique he liked, hunted down rare tea sets from cities away, stayed up for days when he was hospitalized, handled his mother’s funeral on your own. And he treats you like you’re nothing. He’ll regret it, I swear.” I stared blankly at the white ceiling. None of it made sense anymore. I didn’t remember any of it. But hearing him describe it, the way he had been cold, the way I’d given everything, my chest ached like someone was squeezing it. “Alright, Grandpa’s checking out now,” he said finally. “Remember, if you need anything, just call me. I’ll be there.” The call ended, and moments later the ward door opened. Manuel appeared, every bit as immaculate as always, sharp suit, cold eyes, and that faint air of superiority. “You had an allergic reaction, tried to kill yourself, and then went running to my grandfather for comfort,” he said, voice low and mocking. “Besides threatening suicide and calling Grandpa, do you have any other tricks up your sleeve to get my attention?” I wanted to explain, but his eyes made me shrink. I whispered, “I didn’t mean to commit suicide… I just forgot I’m allergic to peanuts.” “Forgot you’re allergic to peanuts?” he sneered, stepping closer. “Why don’t you just tell me you forgot who you even are?”

I didn’t answer. I had forgotten. Forgotten the desperate, humble Aurora who’d loved him so much she’d thrown herself at him in every possible way. Forgotten the nights I cried myself to sleep, begging for even a glance, a word, a smile. Forgotten the bone-deep love I’d carried for him that had poisoned my life. But I stayed quiet. Grandpa’s call seemed to force him to stay, at least for a little while, to “take care” of me. Take care, he said. That word felt like a joke. He ignored the IV backflow, barely reacted when I scalded my hand in the bath, and when I hit the call button gasping for air, he was only concerned with asking his assistant, “Has Amber’s burn been dressed yet? Send over the best scar cream if not.” Even though I didn’t love him anymore, I felt that suffocating weight pressing down anyway. How did I survive all those years? How did I endure this? Loving him so much, giving everything, and getting nothing in return, day after day, night after night. Outside, the tree leaves drifted past the window. And I remembered the last line I wrote in my diary: *If one day I stop loving you, it’s because my heart has died.* Looking back now, I realized that Aurora, the one who wrote those words, probably died a long time ago, in a thousand nights of being ignored and abandoned. The ward was empty the day I got discharged. I knew Manuel had gone to see Amber again. In all the six years of our marriage, he’d spent maybe a handful of days by my side. I didn’t expect anything different anymore. I just waited quietly, letting the immigration paperwork take its course. Amber’s Insta Stories kept blowing up my feed while I waited—Bay Hotel sunsets on some private island. And there he was in every single photo, smiling at her with that gentle look I used to dream of, the one I never got. The latest post showed him at the foot of a snow-capped mountain, tying her scarf around her neck, his fingers long and careful, his eyes soft. She leaned against him, laughing, smiling like the world was hers. The caption read, “He said he’d show me the world.” I just walked past it like I was watching strangers. I asked myself, did I ever look like that in someone’s eyes? Did he ever look at me like that? ... Three days later, the immigration office finally called. My passport and visa were ready. I went straight to the law firm to pick up the divorce agreement and the statement to sever parent-child ties. Everything I needed to leave this place forever was in my bag. I folded the papers carefully, shoved them into the deepest compartment, zipped my jacket tight, and felt a strange weight lift off me. Then my phone lit up. Amber. “Hey sister, can we talk?” “What are we talking about?” I typed back. “You’ve held the title of Mrs. Davenport for six years, shouldn’t you hand it back to me?” I smiled coldly. “It’s already been returned.” I dropped my phone in my bag and walked out without looking back. The front door opened, but the motion-sensor light didn’t come on. I frowned and groped for the switch, when a sharp pain exploded in the back of my head. I barely heard Amber’s voice talking to a man before everything went black. I woke up to a screaming wind on my face. My eyes snapped open, and I realized I was hanging over a cliff. The rope cut into my wrists, my legs dangling above nothing. I turned my head and saw Amber not far from me, pale and trembling. “Awake?” A man stood to the side, cigarette hanging from his lips, and sneered. “Don’t worry, your guy will be here soon.” I swallowed, trying not to scream. My hands shook so much, I thought the rope might slip. Then the roar of engines came. Black SUVs skidded to a stop at the cliff edge. Manuel stepped out, black trench coat, eyes hard, and the kind of presence that made everything else feel small. “Here’s the fucking money, release them.” The kidnapper grinned, “As expected of President Davenport, so direct.” He checked the cash, waved his men aside, “I’ve given you the person, I’ll leave the rest to you, Mr. Davenport.” Then they vanished. I hung there, heart hammering, rocks crumbling beneath us. “Manuel! Please! I’m so scared!” Amber’s voice cracked, tears streaking her face. “Save me!” The bodyguard checked the ropes, face tight. “Mr. Davenport, these ropes won’t hold for long. We can only get one person at a time.” Without hesitation, he stepped toward Amber. I clenched my fists, hanging there, wondering if I’d be next, if anyone would care if I fell. At that moment, I saw my parents pull up in their car. They jumped out, voices loud, panic in their tone. “Amber!” “Save Amber first! Hurry up! She can’t handle this kind of stress!” my mom screamed, her voice sharp and panicked as if I didn’t even exist. My dad rushed forward too. “Careful with the rope! Pull slowly! Don’t let her slip!” Amber sobbed, her whole body shaking. “Mom! Dad! Manuel! I’m scared! Please don’t let me fall!” “I’ve got you,” Manuel said immediately. “Look at me, Amber. Just keep looking at me. Don’t look down. We’re pulling you up right now.” “I can’t hold on anymore!” Amber cried. “My hands hurt. Manuel, please hurry…” “Just a few more seconds,” he murmured gently. “You’re safe. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” “Pull harder!” my mom kept shouting. “Don’t stop! My poor baby, hold on!” Not one of them said my name. Not once. I was still hanging there beside her, the rope biting deep into my wrists. My arms were shaking so badly I could barely feel my fingers anymore. Did they forget I was here too? The rope above me creaked. A sharp snapping sound suddenly tore through the wind. “Wait!” one of the bodyguards shouted. Too late. The rope jerked violently and dropped. I fell. Rocks broke loose beneath my feet and tumbled down the cliff as the wind roared past my ears. My stomach flipped as the ground disappeared beneath me. So this was it? Was this really how my life ended?