In the grand finale of the story, the hero and heroine both lost their memories of each other and started new lives. The hero fell in love with me—a background character, a nobody. We got married, had a child, and built a life. Six years later, on an ordinary Tuesday, my husband suddenly remembered everything. Glowing text floated across my vision like a glitched livestream: [ OMG, is this the sequel to that angsty romance novel? ] [ Finally! The leads got their memories back! Happy Ending incoming! ] [ But wait, they’re both married to other people now. What happens? ] [ Easy. They divorce the extras and get back together. True love wins! ] That evening, I was walking down the street, dazed and heartbroken, when I locked eyes with a man who looked as wrecked as I felt. He was holding a cigarette in one hand, a phone in the other. The voice on the other end of the line was loud enough for me to hear: "Sir, your wife says she has her memory back. She wants a divorce to find her first love. Are you going to agree?" I froze in my tracks. 1 According to the floating comments only I could see, I was just an NPC—a background character in a tragic romance novel. After the leads lost their memories, the male lead, Ethan, fell for me. Meanwhile, the female lead, Chloe, married the "Second Male Lead." Standing on the busy sidewalk, I stared at the neon text hovering in the air until my eyes burned. I wandered aimlessly until I bumped into him. The man standing in the shadows of the alleyway looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. As I passed him, the voice on his phone cut through the evening noise. "Sir, the Madam says the marriage was a sham. She remembers her soulmate now. She wants out. Are you signing the papers?" The man lowered his eyes, the ember of his cigarette glowing and fading. I couldn't see his expression clearly. I stopped. This sounded exactly like the "Second Male Lead" the comments were talking about. I didn't want to be caught staring, so I ducked behind a brick pillar, heart pounding. I needed to hear his answer. If he refused to divorce her, then Chloe couldn't come looking for my husband, Ethan. And maybe... just maybe, Ethan would stay with me. It was a pathetic, desperate hope. I waited, but the man didn't speak. Curiosity got the better of me. I peeked around the corner. A pair of polished Italian leather shoes stepped into my field of vision. The man looked down at me, phone still in hand, a cynical smirk playing on his lips. "Enjoying the show, miss?" I jumped. The voice on his phone was still rambling: "Sir, if your grandmother finds out you're divorced and there's still no great-grandson, she might actually have a heart attack..." He frowned, clearly annoyed, and hung up without a word. I stood there, mortified. "I... I'm sorry." He stared at me for two seconds, then lost interest. He turned to leave. Panic surged. I didn't get the answer I needed. I reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He stopped, forced to look back at me with cold, impatient eyes. I knew I was crossing a line, but I had to know. "So... will you agree to the divorce?" He paused, genuinely surprised that a stranger would have the audacity to ask. He yanked his arm away, sneering. "Lady, you really need to mind your own business." He walked away without looking back. 2 I took a deep breath before opening the front door. "Mommy! You're home!" My five-year-old daughter, Lily, slammed into my legs. Ethan walked out of the kitchen carrying a steaming dish, looking as perfect as ever. "You're back? Wash up, dinner's ready." Lily ran to him. "Daddy, let me help!" Ethan smiled, bending down to her level. "No need, sweetie. Go show Mommy to the sink." "Okay!" She grabbed my hand. Everything felt normal. Ethan picked Lily up from school, cooked dinner, and asked about my day. That night, he pulled me into his arms like he always did, whispering "Goodnight." It felt like any other day. Like he was still the man who loved me, not the protagonist of some epic tragedy waiting to leave. The floating text, however, was screaming: [ This is so heartbreaking... The leads made eye contact on the street today. They both remembered. ] [ But they just walked past each other! It hurts! ] [ Well, it’s been six years. They have families now. ] [ I don't buy it. They loved each other too much to just let go. ] [ The Male Lead is so calm though... maybe he loves the extra now? Six years is a long time. ] I lay still in Ethan’s arms, staring at the dark ceiling. Does he love me more? I didn't know. All I knew was that Ethan had forgotten today was our sixth wedding anniversary. 3 I must have dozed off. I woke up in the middle of the night and reached for the warm body beside me. Cold sheets. I sat up. Ethan was gone. The floating comments were going berserk: [ AHHH! I knew it! They haven't moved on! ] [ Chloe is so bold, she came straight to his house! ] [ The angst is killing me! ] It was autumn, and a light rain was falling. I walked to the window and looked down. There, standing under the streetlamp in the rain, was a woman looking at Ethan with a mix of defiance and desperation. I couldn't hear them, but the comments provided the subtitles. Tears—or maybe rain—streamed down her face. "Ethan, is this really it for us?" My husband remained silent. She grabbed his hand. "I was supposed to marry you! I was supposed to have your children! She took my life, Ethan! Everything is wrong!" Ethan’s back was to me. I couldn't see his face. After a long silence, he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. "Don't catch a cold," he said simply. She gripped the lapels of the coat, staring at him. Then, suddenly, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Ethan flinched, like he wanted to push her away. But she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, mixing rain and tears. "We used to do this all the time... are you sure you want to push me away?" Ethan stood rigid. But he didn't push her away. He didn't dodge. [ My heart is breaking... please just be together already! ] [ It’s so sad. They lost six years because of amnesia. ] [ Fate is so cruel to them. ] I watched my husband kiss another woman in our driveway. Their story was tragic, sure. A grand romance interrupted. But as I stood by the window, numb, I wondered: What about me? From twenty-two to twenty-eight. My youth. The six years I gave him. What happens to the background character when the story ends? 4 Just then, a mechanical voice echoed in my head. It called itself "The System." [ Greetings, Host. I manage this world. ] [ Would you be willing to accept a mission? Success comes with a substantial financial reward. ] I blinked. "What mission?" [ To satisfy reader demand, we need to push the Male and Female Leads toward a Happy Ending. ] [ You need to facilitate their reunion. ] I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You want me to personally push my husband into another woman's arms? Don't you think that's a bit cruel?" The System paused. Then, a rush of data flooded my brain. I saw it all. Ethan and Chloe’s history. From their first meeting to their passionate romance. They fought the world to be together. It was epic. It was undeniable. [ No one forgets a love like that, ] the System said coolly. [ They belong together. ] I understood. Even if I didn't help, Ethan would eventually leave me. Their love was "destiny." I was just a placeholder. I was just speeding up the inevitable. [ If you succeed, you will receive 50 million dollars. Enough to ensure you and your daughter never worry about money again. ] I looked down at the driveway. Ethan and Chloe were still standing there. I thought about the last six years. He was a good husband. A good father. But remembering those six years took me only five minutes. He was a great partner—provided he didn't have his memories. I took a deep breath. "Fine. What do I have to do?" [ First objective: Convince the Second Male Lead to divorce the Female Lead. ]
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