Love Beyond Memory

In the third year of my marriage to Charles, I became pregnant. He was as happy. But a sudden car accident caused him to forget me, his memory reverting to when he was twenty. Charles, embracing his first crush, wanted to divorce me. "She needs me. I can't leave her." But what about me? ***** "Charles, we have a child." When I gently placed Charles's hand on my belly, his eyes instantly reddened, and he couldn't wait to announce it to the world. "Hey, bro, I'm going to be a dad!" "Hey, listen, buddy, I have a..." Yes, we had been married for three years. But I had polycystic ovary syndrome, making it difficult to get pregnant. Each anticipation ended in disappointment. My in-laws urged me daily, and the neighbors' gossip made me lose hope. Yet, he couldn't bear to see me suffer through IVF, nor did he want to divorce me and remarry. He said he only loved me and didn't mind not having children. I was very moved by his treatment. Now, we finally had a child. But the Charles who loved me was gone. A car accident had caused him to lose his memory, reverting to the age of twenty, a time when he was madly in love with his first crush. I stood outside the hospital room, watching Charles tightly embrace Grace Collins, his voice hoarse and choking. "Grace, I've been looking for you for so long." Grace glanced at me, nestled closer to him, and gave me a provocative smile. My heart ached, and tears uncontrollably fell. I kept telling myself, it's okay, when Charles regains his memory, I'll happily tell him. "Look. The baby and I have been waiting for you." After much mental preparation, I raised my hand to push the door open. But then I saw a child behind Grace, one who looked fifty percent like Charles, and my heart skipped a beat. The child's sweet call of Daddy made Charles's body visibly tremble, his eyes filled with joy. I weakly lowered my raised hand, staggering back two steps. When Charles finally looked away from Grace, he noticed me at the door. "Who are you?" he asked. He really didn't remember me. I moved my lips, speaking with difficulty and slowness. "I am... your wife, Charlotte." Charles's pupils contracted, and he vehemently denied it. "Impossible! The one I care about is Grace! How could I marry another woman?" I suppressed the rising bitterness in my nose, glancing at Grace. Before I could say anything, Charles shielded Grace and the child behind him, adopting a protective stance. I smiled bitterly and softly asked, "Is he Charles's child?" Grace avoided my gaze, lowering her head with teary eyes, "Mark, just call him Mr. Wilson. That's not a title you can use." Charles's face darkened, and in his eagerness to distance himself from me, his voice carried a hint of anger. "You are Charlotte, right? I want a divorce." His disdainful gaze fell on my swollen belly, like a knife stabbing me, making me bleed profusely. "How could I have a child with you? This child shouldn't even exist..." "Charles!" I changed my expression, sternly stopping him. "Don't say such things..." My belly ached faintly, perhaps the child inside was sad. I gently stroked it, silently comforting. 'Baby, don't be sad, Daddy loves you the most.' "Regarding the child's leukemia, I had previously contacted Charles. He gave me some money and agreed to cooperate with the matching." Grace explained, pretending to be considerate. "But after the meeting, Charles had a car accident. I felt guilty, so I came to see him when I heard he woke up." "I'm sorry to disturb your lives, I'll leave now." I stood there dazed, feeling as if a hand was squeezing my heart. The realization that Charles and Grace had met behind my back made it hard for me to breathe, the pain spreading from my heart to my whole body. I could accept that twenty-year-old Charles had an unreserved love for Grace, but I couldn't accept that thirty-year-old Charles had hidden things from me, had... betrayed me. I licked my dry lips, taking a deep breath. Perhaps it was Grace's instigation, or maybe there was some misunderstanding. After all, he used to be so, so good. ***** Charles once told me he loved me more than I could imagine. I always argued because he never expressed his love passionately. I truly realized this a year after our marriage. His mother, Amelia Wilson, couldn't sit still and started urging for a child. She poked holes in all the condoms at home, made me drink various so-called folk remedies, and then lay on the floor, making a scene. "It's a misfortune to marry a woman that can't give birth! I don't know if I'll ever see a grandchild in my lifetime, I won't rest in peace..." Nosy neighbors gathered at our door, pointing fingers at me. I wasn't good with words, losing arguments and turning red with anger. Charles rushed home upon hearing the news, protecting me like a mother hen upon hearing the news, and then he erupted in anger. "Mom, so what if we don't have any kids? I'll spend my life with Charlotte. If you bully her again, don't blame me for being unfilial!" Amelia slapped him in public. I cried out of heartache, but he smiled at me as if seeking praise. "It doesn't hurt. It's okay, as long as you don't suffer." At that moment, I heard my heart pounding. He was busy with work, but during rare vacations, he would give up rest to accompany me to the cities I wanted to visit, walking through street after street. Even in a deserted alley or in bad weather with light rain, he never showed any impatience, just to make me happy. He didn't like crowds, but he would gently tuck my hair behind my ear when I was lost in thought, sharing the bustling street sounds with me. He didn't believe in gods, but he would accompany me to write our lifelong wishes and hang them on the wishing tree with sincerity and seriousness. When he learned I was pregnant, he bought many books on how to care for pregnant women and children, staying in a state of inexplicable excitement. Even when he was overwhelmed with work, he would wake up early with dark circles under his eyes to make soup, ensuring it was just the right temperature when I woke up. His love was silent yet overwhelming, making me feel enveloped in warmth and tenderness in every ordinary day. On the day of Charles's car accident, he said he had bought some lily of the valley seeds, hoping that when the child was born, the flowers would bloom and he could gift them to her. He said he would plant a field of lilies for our child, hoping she would pick one for him on Father's Day when she grew up. He thanked me for giving him a home and bringing him so close to happiness. But now, everything had changed. He didn't remember me. He didn't love me anymore.