Seeing the scar on my husband’s secretary’s wrist as she served me tea shattered her world. That night, her depression returned; she tried to kill herself again. My husband’s eyes were bloodshot, his hands around my throat. “Evelyn was finally hoping again,” he snarled. “Why trigger her?” On the rooftop edge, Evelyn whispered, “It’s not Annie’s fault… I remembered the pain. I can’t bear it.” As she swayed, my husband lunged—not for her, but at me. He forced a device onto my head. My mind broke. Countless leering faces swarmed me, hands tearing at my clothes, crawling on my skin. I knew it was just Evelyn’s memory, but the terror was real. I screamed, begging him to stop. But he walked away, holding Evelyn like a princess, never looking back. With that memory transplanted, Evelyn improved. Thrilled, he transferred all her trauma into me. He held the renewed, smiling Evelyn, never noticing the light fading from my eyes. He’d forgotten the device’s final cost: Exchange too many memories, and you lose yourself completely. 1 I was on the floor like a broken animal, clawing at Nathaniel’s pants, pleading with him to remove the Memory Exchange Device. But the man who once cherished me, who once worshipped the ground I walked on, kicked my hand away. The polished leather of his shoe ground into my fingertips, a deliberate, cruel pressure. "Cut the act, Annie. You know none of it is real." This was the same man who had whispered love songs in my ear just last night. Now, his voice was laced with bitter disappointment. "You can't even handle watching the images. Can you imagine how helpless Evelyn must have felt, living through it?" he demanded. "She was finally crawling out of that hole, and you… you pushed her right back in." "A spoiled princess like you, who’s had everything handed to her, will never understand. It's time you learned some empathy." He knew. He knew the device didn't just transmit sights and sounds. It replicated the five senses of the memory’s owner, including pain. Evelyn had relived this particular memory countless times, amplifying the agony with each recollection. The pain hit me in waves, so intense I started convulsing, tears and saliva streaming down my face. My suffering earned a tender kiss, which Nathaniel placed on Evelyn's forehead. The same Nathaniel who hadn’t shed a single tear when I miscarried our child now buried his face in Evelyn’s chest, his shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. "Evelyn, my poor Evelyn. You've suffered so much." "From the moment I learned about your past, I swore I would invent something to take your pain away," he whispered. "But seeing it for myself… only now do I truly understand the hell you went through." As they walked away, my fingernails scraped bloody tracks into the concrete floor. So this was it. This was the project that had consumed him, the reason he’d worked day and night, the reason he couldn’t even spare an hour to take my mother to the hospital when she had a heart attack. It was all for another woman. The first rays of dawn touched my face before the nightmare finally released its grip. A sticky warmth spread beneath me. I looked down. My white dress was soaked in blood. I stumbled to the hospital, a strange, hollow feeling in my chest. Evelyn's most painful memory had been traded for one of my happiest. And I had no idea which one it was. I’d barely walked through the hospital doors when I saw them. Evelyn, her cheeks rosy, was being spoon-fed porridge by Nathaniel. The moment she saw me, she clutched her chest, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. "Oh, Mr. Price, thank you. Thank you for giving me Annie's happiest memory when I was in such a dark place." Her voice was a fragile, grateful whisper. "I… I can't even remember what the nightmare was about anymore." "But to experience what it's like to marry you… even in a memory… I can die with no regrets. Even without a family, this beautiful memory gives me the strength to face anything." She looked at me, her expression pleading. "Let’s give it back to Annie now." Nathaniel pulled her into a fierce embrace, his voice trembling. "How could I ever let you relive that pain?" So that was it. The memory she'd stolen was my wedding day. I stood in the doorway, a ghost in my own life, watching my husband hold another woman with the delicate restraint one would use for fine porcelain. A doctor rushed over, his forehead beaded with sweat. "You miscarried nearly ten hours ago! Why are you only just getting here?" he demanded. "If we don't clear the uterine lining now, you could get a fatal infection. We might have to perform a hysterectomy!" Nathaniel finally noticed me. His eyes widened in shock. He let go of Evelyn and strode towards me. For a foolish, fleeting second, I thought he was coming to comfort me. Then his hand cracked across my face in a vicious, stinging slap. 2 "Annie, are you insane?" he roared, his face a mask of fury. "I show you a glimpse of Evelyn's pain, and you get rid of our child just to get back at me?" "No! It wasn't like that! The pain from her memory, it was too much, I—" Before I could finish, he slammed the device onto my head again. "You grew up with a loving family, didn't you? Is that why you don't give a damn about our child's life?" he spat. "Since you clearly don't appreciate the importance of family, why don't we give those memories to someone who will? Someone like Evelyn!" I was still reeling from the shock of a second miscarriage when I felt it—a massive, gaping void opening in my mind. Years of love, of warmth, of belonging, were being siphoned away in an instant. The terror of utter isolation consumed me. I collapsed, my legs giving out. The doctor tried to help me up, but I couldn't stand. I was utterly alone. When I came to, I was on an operating table. A surgery had just ended. The doctor shook his head, his voice heavy with pity. "The infection was too severe. We had to remove your uterus. You should call your family; you'll need a lot of care during your recovery." I stared at him blankly. "I'm an orphan," I replied, my voice flat. "I have no family. No husband." I walked out of the operating room and straight to a window at the end of the hall. The wind whipped my hair around my face. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, ready for the fall. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me back. I slammed onto the hard floor. Before I could even process what had happened, the person who had saved me—Nathaniel’s assistant—was scrambling to his feet and bowing to someone behind me. "Mr. Price, she's showing genuine suicidal tendencies. It's a good thing I got here in time." The man called Mr. Price grabbed my chin, his grip painfully tight. "Are you putting on a show, Annie? Is this some pathetic, low-life attempt to get my attention just because I've been looking after Evelyn for a few days?" I squinted, my head throbbing. I had no idea who this furious man was. "Sir," the assistant interjected nervously. "Mrs. Price has undergone two memory transfers in quick succession, both involving traumatic input. Psychological instability and cognitive dissonance are to be expected. It's clear she doesn't recognize you. A failed suicide attempt will likely be followed by another. We should restore her memories before it's too late." The man's brow furrowed deeply. "Evelyn is finally smiling again. If we send her back to that dark place, she won't survive it." He scoffed. "Annie studied for her psychology license to help me through my own kidnapping trauma. She's mentally tough. This is just a stunt to win back my affection." "We're not swapping the memories back. Once Evelyn is stable, I'll… I'll arrange another wedding for Annie. That should compensate her for the lost memory." The assistant hesitated. "But sir… her father died saving you during that kidnapping. Her mother passed away from a heart condition, broken by grief. How do you compensate for the memory of her family?" The man's voice rose, sharp with irritation. "Who's your boss, Evans, her or me? You seem to be taking her side on everything." "Letting her be Mrs. Price is reward enough for her father's sacrifice," he snapped. "As for the memories, we can look at photo albums, watch videos. I'll help her remember." Just then, his phone rang. The anger on his face melted away when he saw the caller ID. He answered, his voice turning gentle as he gave his assistant an order. "Take Annie back to the villa. Keep a close eye on her. Don't let her try anything stupid again. Evelyn would feel terrible if she found out." He started to walk away, then turned back, covering the phone's mouthpiece. "That scrape on her elbow," he muttered to the assistant. "Clean it up. And no adhesive bandages. She's allergic to the glue." Even after he left, I couldn't make sense of their conversation. My brain felt like mush. Trying to think sent daggers of pain through my skull. It wasn't until the assistant, Mr. Evans, handed me a tissue that I realized I was crying, tears streaming silently down my face for a reason I couldn't comprehend. 3 Mr. Evans took me back to what he called "Mr. Price's home." Standing at the entrance, I couldn't bring myself to step inside. Everything was decorated in purple, a color I instinctively loathed. The walls were covered in photos of Mr. Price with a strange woman, their smiles sickeningly sweet. The air was thick with the scent of white florals, a fragrance that gave me an instant headache. Every detail of the house screamed that I didn't belong. "…Is this really my home?" I whispered. "I don't have a family. I don't have a husband. Am I… am I this Mr. Price's mistress?" I backed away, bumping into a solid chest. Mr. Price leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. "After the memory exchange, Evelyn thinks she's the lady of the house. So I redecorated everything to her taste." "Just bear with it for a little while. Once she's stable, I'll explain the truth to her." Before I could even process his words, a force shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor. "There you are, you little tramp! Seducing my husband in my own house!" The woman from the photos was on me, her slaps raining down on my face. I tried to scramble away, but she grabbed a fistful of my hair. "You shameless homewrecker! I'm going to ruin that pretty face of yours!" Mr. Price jumped between us. "Evelyn, Evelyn, it's a misunderstanding!" "She's a patient I met during my recovery," he explained frantically. "She has nowhere to go, so I'm letting her stay here for a while." "A patient? Looks more like a predator to me!" A stinging slap bypassed his defense and caught me square on the jaw. My left ear rang, and the world spun. Mr. Price scooped Evelyn into his arms and carried her inside. The heavens opened up, and rain began to pour. The villa door slammed shut. The iron gate to the garden was locked. I was trapped outside with nowhere to shelter, huddling miserably under the thin eaves of the roof. By the time the door opened again, I was soaked to the bone, my body burning with a fever hot enough to fry an egg. Mr. Price frowned deeply. "Annie, you're not a child anymore. Why do you always resort to hurting yourself to manipulate me?" His voice sounded distant. I had to turn my good ear toward him to hear properly. When he saw my bruised face, he sighed. "Did Evelyn do that? Come inside. I'll clean you up." He led me to a small, cramped room. The dust was so thick it made me cough. "Shh," he hissed, covering my mouth. "Evelyn just fell asleep." Once I was quiet, he brought out antiseptic and cotton swabs, kneeling to gently tend to my wounds. I looked at his face, and inexplicably, the tears started again. A sharp pain lanced through my heart, for a reason I couldn't name. Seeing his frown deepen, I reached out and pressed a finger to his lips. "...Mr. Price," I began, my voice hoarse. "I feel like I've forgotten so much. It hurts to even try to remember." "Did we meet at the hospital? During therapy? Did you feel sorry for me and hire me as your secretary after I was discharged?" "My last clear memory is from this morning. At the hospital. The… the abortion." I wiped my tears away, my resolve hardening. "I must have been confused, getting involved with you and your wife. I see my mistake now. Thank you for your kindness, but I should leave." He grabbed my arm, forcing me to sit back down. "It's not what you think. This is all because of Evelyn's… never mind. I'll explain everything later." He brought me a bowl of steaming porridge, carefully blowing on each spoonful before offering it to me. "Don't worry about anything. Evelyn has a big heart. She's already accepted you. She even made this porridge herself to help you warm up." I hesitated, then took a mouthful. The next second, I was vomiting violently all over the floor. The porridge was full of crushed glass.
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