Called a Mistress, I Left Him

Robert Smith lost his memory. He forgot every single thing about me. His mind is stuck in the year when he loved his ex-wife more than anything. No matter how many times everyone around him tried to talk sense into him, he was dead set on the idea that I was the homewrecker who stole him away from her. The doctor said there was a chance his memory could come back, and I clung to that tiny sliver of hope for dear life, refusing to let go. Three long years dragged by, and in that time, we got divorced and remarried, over and over. We became the biggest laughingstock of the entire Washington, D.C. social elite. People even started placing bets. They bet on when I’d finally walk away, and on when Robert Smith would finally remember who I was. Then the news of our eighth divorce blew up and hit the number one spot on the hot search rankings. Reporters came storming into my office at the law firm, bulky cameras propped on their shoulders. They jammed microphones right up in my face, every question dripping with biting provocation. "Lawyer Chastin, you’re a divorce lawyer yourself, and you’ve been divorced eight times already. How do you feel about that?" The firm’s sign was smashed to bits, and the custom honorary banner I’d earned was dragged to the floor and trampled underfoot. Before I could even open my mouth to respond, my boss fired me on the spot, claiming I’d ruined the reputation of our entire industry. "Jane Chastin, let me give you a piece of advice. Have some decency. Stop hounding President Smith already." I squeezed my trembling hand, and suddenly, a bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. They weren’t wrong. This time… I really do need to let go. ***** A torrential downpour was hammering the pavement when I walked out of the firm. I clutched the cardboard box full of my things from my desk and stumbled home in a daze. The front door wasn't latched all the way. Through the c***k, I could hear Robert and Zara Anthony's giggles and playful teasing drifting out every few seconds. I stepped inside and scanned the room. Disorder was everywhere. Clothes scattered all over the floor, a mud-stained carpet… you name it. The evening news on the living room TV just kept looping the whole mess that had gone down at my firm that day. When he saw me walk in, the smile on Robert's face faded fast. "You still have the nerve to come back here." That sharp, sarcastic line cut through the air, clear as day, straight into my ears. Zara smiled and pressed a soft kiss into the corner of Robert’s mouth. "Come on, you two have been together for seven years, after all. At least leave her a little dignity." Then she tilted her head up, flicked an eyebrow at me, and wore a smug, knowing smirk. "Robert, my brother, missed me so bad I just had to come over. You don't mind, do you?" Raindrops trickled down from my soaked hair, plinking one by one onto the floor at my feet. A crushing, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. I tore my gaze away from the two naked people tangled on the sofa and turned to walk toward the bedroom. But the second I pushed the door open, I froze solid right where I stood. "Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to tell you. This house is still under my mom's name, it doesn't belong to you at all. I threw all your stuff out already. It's probably still sitting in the trash can by the side of the road, if you want it." Robert’s mouth tugged up into a cold smirk, and he leaned against the wall to watch me squirm. It was like watching me crumble and look pathetic was the only thing that could make him happy these days. A sharp, stabbing pain wrenched through my chest. My waterlogged shirt clung to my skin, and a cold chill crept all through my body. "You bought that trending search today, didn't you? We're already divorced. Why did you have to go and ruin my job too?" When I confronted him, Robert lifted a hand and swatted my cardboard box straight out of my grip. All my case files and work documents went flying, scattering across the floor with a sharp clatter. Every single piece of this was the work I'd built up over almost seven years. "You’ve clung to me for three years, isn’t that enough? Even if we really had something before, I lost my memory! It's gone! The fact that I forgot you proves you were never worth anything to me!" Those words sliced straight into the raw, open wound I'd tried so hard to hide. Three years ago, he lost his memory out of the blue, erasing every single thing about me from his mind. Just the day before he forgot, he'd been dragging me all around our new place, giddy as anything, setting up the nursery and chattering nonstop about whether our baby would be a boy or a girl. But after that, it was all gone. The only person he remembered was Zara. "You just forgot everything! You have no idea what Zara did back then..." Resentment and fury burned through my veins, I was seconds away from completely losing it. Robert's face turned iron-gray. He wrenched my wrist in a brutal grip and shoved me hard straight out the door. The pouring rain drenched me to the bone all over again. "I don't care what Zara did. All I know is that I love her. That's all that matters." I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly every last accusation and angry grievance felt hollow, pointless, like yelling into an empty void. Irritated, Robert wrenched his gaze away from mine, then ripped the wedding ring straight off his finger. The sharp edge of the diamond sliced open his skin. He flung the ring at my feet, and as he slammed the door shut in my face, he spat one last cruel line, "Stop groveling so damn much, begging me to remarry you." I stood rooted in the rain-soaked pavement for what felt like forever. Finally, I crouched down and picked up that wedding ring. Robert had designed it himself, back before we got married. He'd worn it every single day for seven years, never once taken it off. Right there by the roadside trash can lay our wedding photos, smashed by Robert, the scarf he'd knitted for me with his own hands, and every photo album full of our shared memories. My phone suddenly blared its ringtone in my pocket. I glanced at the contact name on the screen, then answered the call. Robert's mother's excited voice burst through the speaker. "Jane, I just got Robert's latest check-up report! The doctor said his memories are starting to loosen up! If we keep going with treatment, there's an 80% chance he'll get his memories back completely!" My knuckles went white as I squeezed the phone so hard my hand ached. The word 'okay' sat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't push it out. In the end, I breathed out softly into the phone. "Mom, we're not doing treatment anymore. If he's forgotten, then let him stay forgotten."