I’d finally trained my arrogant society husband into a docile partner. Then a car crash stole six years of his memory. He woke up as the rebellious heir who was still obsessed with his childhood crush and utterly hated me. Watching him thrash and snarl, demanding I leave the hospital room, a profound weariness washed over me. I was too exhausted to start the training all over again. I simply nodded. “Fine. As you wish.” 1 By the time I rushed into the hospital, Brooks had already finished surgery and was awake. The moment he saw me, he sent the glass he was holding crashing to the floor, his handsome face flushing a furious red. “Who the hell called her? Didn’t I almost die, and you want to finish the job by bringing this plague into my room?” I stopped dead in my tracks, the polite smile I’d worn for the nurses dissolving slowly. Something was terribly wrong. Brooks would never speak to me like that. For the last year, I’d completely tamed him; he hadn't raised his voice at me once. Yet, this state felt hauntingly familiar. It was like… Aside from the furious Brooks in the bed, his childhood crush, Amelia, and his assistant, Mark, were also in the room. Amelia’s expression was strangely guarded as she asked Brooks a question that made my mind seize up. “Brooks, you don’t remember Riley?” Brooks scoffed. “Are you kidding? I wouldn't forget that woman even if she turned to ash!” He turned to look at me, his striking eyes, usually alight with affection, now filled with nothing but ice. “She is the one person I have always despised.” Mark’s face went white. He looked desperate enough to physically clamp his CEO’s mouth shut. He quickly rushed to explain to me first. “Please, Ms. Riley, don’t be angry! Mr. Brooks suffered a head injury and lost the last six years of his memory. He doesn’t mean any of it!” Then, tearfully, he pleaded with Brooks. “Sir, you absolutely cannot say that! Ms. Riley is your wife! Before the crash, you couldn’t bear to even speak loudly to her! Don’t be impulsive!” “Bullshit!” Brooks bit out, completely unconvinced. “If I was going to marry anyone, it would be Amelia. Who the hell is Riley? Why would I ever be with such bad luck?” Amelia hid a flicker of victory in her eyes, moving quickly to loop her arm through Brooks’s, stroking his hair to calm him, shooting a smug, challenging glance my way. I watched the entire scene without expression, the warmth in my chest dropping degree by degree until it reached freezing point. After a long silence, I spoke just one sentence. “Brooks, if you shut up right now and come home with me, I will pretend none of this happened.” Brooks laughed. Then, he swept the bouquet of fresh-cut roses I’d brought him onto the floor. The vibrant red petals and broken stems scattered everywhere. He stared into my eyes, speaking each word with cold precision. “I won’t tell you to get out twice.” The hospital room went silent. The last flicker of hope in my heart was extinguished, replaced by a cold reality. A car crash had turned Brooks back into the rebellious heir who was obsessed with his first love and despised me above all others. I had spent six years teaching him manners, teaching him the right way to love, teaching him how to manage a marriage. Now, all of it was back to square one. I knew I could train the mad dog again. But looking into his eyes, flat and cold with absolute aversion, I suddenly felt an overwhelming weariness. One session of obedience school was enough for any lifetime. I nodded. “Fine. As you wish.” Then I turned and walked toward the door. Brooks hadn’t expected to get rid of me so easily. In his memory, I was the loud, obnoxious rival who never backed down from a fight. My sudden, quiet acceptance of defeat left him strangely off-balance, like a punch thrown that lands in cotton. He chased my retreating back with a taunt, trying to salvage his pride. “Hmph. What a performance. Good riddance. Did you think I’d chase you and apologize? Funny.” Mark, the assistant, who knew his boss would regret these words until the day he died, nearly fainted, muttering, We’re ruined, we’re ruined. After the hospital room door clicked shut, Brooks frowned and rubbed his chest. He didn’t know if it was the accident, but his heart felt terribly uneasy. “Brooks! What’s wrong?” Amelia, who’d been beaming once I left, was startled to see two lines of tears streaming down Brooks’s face. “Why are you crying? Are you in pain?” Brooks froze, wiped his face, and felt the wetness on his hand. Strange… He wasn't sad at all. But why wouldn't the tears stop? The weather outside was overcast and gray. It mirrored my mood perfectly. Brooks and I had been classmates through high school and college. We fought for first place, for class president, for contest spots. We were legendary rivals—every day, we’d spend as much time scheming against each other as we did studying. I once had him sit on gum; he once got soaked by a bucket of water over his door. He terrified me with his pet hamster, and I sicced a huge, gentle mutt on him that chased him eight times around the track. The pure hatred finally morphed into pure love during a sudden power outage in the library while we were working on our college dissertations. Brooks was the only son of the extremely wealthy Sterling family. He was smart and privileged. I was a scholarship kid from a small town, a small-time grinder. I spent six years pouring all my energy into transforming him from an arrogant wild dog into a docile sheep. Any investment requires input. I didn’t regret the time I spent on Brooks. I just never expected a simple car accident—one that wasn’t even life-threatening—could erase all my effort overnight. Perhaps this was the universe handing me a chance to cut off the love, harden my heart, and focus entirely on my own career. My phone rang. It was Graham, Brooks’s best friend. “Riley, I heard about Brooks. Are… are you okay?” Graham, Brooks, and I went to the same school. During the early days of our campus romance, the three of us hung out constantly. He knew exactly how much Brooks had changed. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Focus on your art exhibition.” Graham had chosen not to inherit his family business, instead becoming a celebrated painter. He was currently preparing for a major show. The line was quiet for a moment. Then, he asked a strange question. “Are you two… going to get a divorce?” I blinked, staring at the overcast sky for a long time before I answered. “It’s the one thing he’s ever truly wanted from me.” After hanging up, I returned to the house Brooks and I had shared. Unwashed dishes were on the table, and half-finished puzzle pieces lay on the floor. Every corner of the house held the trace of our life together. After just one trip outside, everything had changed. What was most heartbreaking was that Brooks was still Brooks. He remembered everyone else, everything else. He had just forgotten the single fact that he loved me. When Graham asked if we would divorce, I already knew the answer. Six years ago, Brooks hated me so much he could barely look at me without feeling sick. He couldn't stand breathing the same air. How could that version of him tolerate living with me now? The heater was set high, but my hands and feet were ice-cold. The door suddenly opened behind me. I turned to see Brooks, his head wrapped in bandages, Mark right behind him. Amelia was also there, clinging to Brooks’s arm like a proud little fiancée. On the wall not far from them hung Brooks’s and my wedding photo. Pre-amnesia Brooks would never have allowed this. He knew how jealous and possessive I was; to avoid being thrown out, he wouldn't even let a female mosquito near him. But the current Brooks was clearly enjoying Amelia’s closeness. Of course—six years ago, he was madly in love with Amelia, willing to be led on like a puppy. He was infamous on campus for being her pathetic admirer. Back then, Amelia took his love for granted. It was only after he married me that she had a change of heart, texting him on our wedding night to say she would wait for him forever. It seemed she had gotten her wish. Brooks scowled the moment he saw me. He snorted, sweeping his gaze around the living room, his expression turning sour. “Seriously? This little box is where we live? It’s barely bigger than my parents’ linen closet. Did the Sterling fortune collapse or something? Why am I living in this dump?” Mark quickly explained. “Ms. Riley preferred a cozy, unpretentious house. You chose it together, Sir! You were ecstatic the day you moved in, saying you loved it.” Brooks choked on his words. He glared at Mark, threatening him darkly. “Next time, stick to explaining the situation. No unnecessary commentary.” Amelia giggled. “It’s understandable that people from less refined backgrounds have limited taste. Brooks only tolerated it out of the kindness of his heart. She’s too coarse and low-class to think about anyone else. Brooks, you must have suffered for six years. How can anyone breathe in a place this small? You can barely stretch your legs!” She shook his arm. “Brooks, go pack your things. We’re moving you out today. I’ve had my maid prepare the largest guest suite at my villa. You can stay with me.” Brooks was about to agree, but Mark frantically shook his head like a bobblehead, desperately signaling caution. “Mr. Brooks, absolutely not! You are a married man! You can’t impose on Ms. Amelia! It’s completely inappropriate, Sir. If you find this house too small, why not stay at your family’s estate for a few days?” “That works, too—” I cut Brooks off. “Mark, you don’t need to say another word. I don’t care. He can live wherever he wants. This house is in my name, and I have the right to remove people I despise.” I then pointed Brooks toward the front door, my gaze fixed on his widened eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get out. This is my house, and you are not welcome here.” Brooks genuinely wanted to leave. Just looking at me irritated him. But hearing that? That made him want to stay. Leaving now would be admitting defeat. He wasn't going to let me win. She doesn’t want to see me? Fine, I’ll stay and make her miserable! “Ha! We aren’t divorced yet. What right do you have to kick me out? So what if the house bought during the marriage is in your name? It’s communal property!” He shook off Amelia’s arm. “Amelia, be a good girl and go home. I’ll deal with this mess and come find you later.” Amelia bit her lip, trying to argue, but Mark was relentless, repeating, “Ms. Amelia, let me drive you home,” which finally drove her mad. She left, looking back at the house every three steps. After the sequence of opening and closing doors, only Brooks and I remained in the living room. He looked at the dinner table piled with leftovers, grimaced in disgust, and then slumped onto the sofa like a feudal lord. “I’m hungry. Clean this up first, and then go cook for me.” I rolled my eyes. Pretending I hadn’t heard him, I sat down on the rug and resumed working on the jigsaw puzzle. This was the last memory I shared with the real Brooks. Finishing it would be the final punctuation mark on this story of unrequited love. The man on the sofa erupted. “Hey! I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” I didn't even look up. “If you’re hungry, clean it up and cook it yourself. Stop bossing me around.” “Aren’t you my wife? Why won’t you cook for me? You must do it every day, but suddenly you can’t today? Are you doing this on purpose? Is your hand broken?” My puzzle-assembling paused. I looked up to meet his gaze. A messy palette of negative emotions—disgust, impatience, pure frustration. How familiar. This was exactly the attitude of the six-years-ago Brooks Sterling—spoiled, clueless, and convinced everyone was put on Earth to serve him. I guess after the bitter, you don’t always get the sweet. Sometimes you get something rancid and sour. If this were the past, I would have lectured him, set a new rule, or slapped him across the face. But now, it all felt pointless. “Fine. I’ll cook.” I put the puzzle down and walked into the kitchen. In my peripheral vision, Brooks looked smug and triumphant, thinking he’d won another round and pushed me back down where he thought I belonged. He couldn't see the placid indifference on my face. He couldn’t feel the death of my love. Brooks didn’t need to try so hard to drive me away. Once the puzzle was finished, I would have left on my own. It had been a while since I’d cooked, and my skills were rusty. When I brought the plates to Brooks, he complained about every single one. “Too much oil on that. That’s cut too small. All the scallions are burnt. Don’t you know you’re supposed to sauté the meat before you season?” He stopped short, looking confused. He didn’t understand how he knew any of that. I knew, of course. For the last few years, he was the one who did the cooking. He went from nearly blowing up the kitchen to cooking like a professional chef, all within six years. He’d study new recipes with excitement, swearing that he’d cook every delicious meal in the world for me, even if he burned himself or cut his fingers. I didn't say any of this. Brooks wouldn’t believe it anyway. It would be harder than dying to convince him that he ever loved me. “I know!” Brooks suddenly threw his chopsticks down. “Amelia loves gourmet food. I must have learned how to cook so I could make things for her! That makes sense. My skills must be amazing now!” He looked down at the unappetizing dishes I’d made, his forehead wrinkling in disgust. “How did you even make this garbage? It’s repulsive. Honestly, trash belongs in the trash.” With that, Brooks grabbed the wastebasket and scraped all three dishes—the food I’d spent an hour making—into the garbage. He hadn’t even taken a single bite. “Riley, you are truly wicked. You deliberately hid the fact that I’m a great cook now, then made this pig slop just to disgust me, didn’t you? You just wait. You mess with me, and you’ll find out the consequences!” He gave me a menacing look and went into the kitchen to cook for himself. I looked at the food in the trash. I remembered how the pre-amnesia Brooks had pleaded with me for months to cook him just one meal. The thing he once begged for was now tossed out like slop. I suddenly found the scene ridiculous. Brooks, if you ever get your memory back. Will you feel even a sliver of regret for throwing away the last meal I ever cooked for you? For an entire week, Brooks tried every trick to make me lose my temper. Amelia dropped by every few days, and together they treated our house like a revenge mission, turning it into a complete wreck. They shredded the leather sofa, poured paint into the fish tank, drew graffiti all over the walls, and used our wedding photo as a giant doodle pad. In Brooks’s mind, he truly was retaliating against an enemy. He even took the ceramic gift I’d made for him and personally smashed it, letting Amelia pour red paint over the fragments. Graham happened to drop by that day to check on Brooks and was horrified. Standing in the ruined house, he was silent for a long time before sending me a text. [Riley, you should come stay with me for a bit. Brooks… he’s not just lost his memory, he’s lost his mind.] Even an outsider like Graham knew how much Brooks treasured that gift, keeping it spotlessly clean and refusing to let anyone touch it. I thanked him but declined. I genuinely didn’t care anymore. Once I left, nothing in this house would matter to me. The only thing I protected was the half-finished puzzle on the floor. Whenever Brooks and Amelia were going insane around the house, I would quietly sit there and work on the puzzle. Only one corner remained blank. Brooks found my behavior hilarious. He and Amelia mocked me, saying I was crazy to use this childish thing to pine over the pathetic man who married me. Brooks, they laughed, hated puzzles, and had only pretended to work on it with me because I forced him. He would only ever change himself for the person he truly loved. And Brooks Sterling could never love Riley. What Brooks didn’t notice was that every time he made that cruel joke, Amelia would nervously avert her gaze, falling silent as a mute. I thought Brooks’s vengeance would stop there. I underestimated the depth of his six-years-ago hatred. I finally understood what he meant when he said, You just wait. The next day, I arrived at the office to news that our most important long-term partner was terminating the contract. For two years, our relationship had been stable and problem-free. I went pale and immediately ordered an investigation. It was only when I saw Brooks’s signature on the termination contract that a loud ringing started in my ears, and my entire body went cold. This company was one that Brooks and I had built from the ground up. It was meant to prove to the Sterling family that we could succeed without their support. Now, because of Brooks’s childish act of revenge—forcing the termination with our biggest partner, which incurred massive breach of contract fees—the company would be blacklisted within the industry and suffer unprecedented damage. Years of effort, blood, sweat, and tears—all poured down the drain. All because of Brooks Sterling’s signature. The heir had the powerful Sterling family backing him. The small-town grinder had no one. I don’t remember how I got home. I only remember seeing Amelia sitting on the slashed sofa, her foot resting on my wedding photo, her hand sporting the diamond wedding ring I’d bought, waving it at me triumphantly. My blood rushed to my head, and I charged forward, slapping her across the face. “CRACK!” The loud sound echoed throughout the living room. Brooks saw Amelia’s instantly swollen face and exploded in rage. “Riley! You’re out of your mind! You dare hit Amelia? You’re asking for it!” He lunged forward, kicking the jigsaw puzzle I was protecting. The force of his action even stunned Amelia. As if in slow motion, the puzzle exploded in the air. The pieces scattered across the floor like confetti, settling in the ruined house as if mourning its death. At the exact same moment, Brooks’s heart felt as though it had been crushed. The agony stole his breath, leaving him nauseous. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He bent over, gasping for air. The doctor had explicitly said the post-accident syndrome would not cause cardiac pain. So what was happening to him? He should have felt overjoyed at avenging himself against his enemy. Why did his heart feel like it was breaking? As he bent over, Brooks suddenly saw the jade bangle on my wrist. He remembered it. It was his grandmother’s, and he was supposed to give it to the woman he loved. And then. I spoke. “Brooks, let’s get a divorce.”
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