Part 2Tomorrow I Will Forget Him

Hearing my words, Alex froze. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were instantly flooded with worry. "Isla, when did you get sick? Why didn't you tell me? Is it serious? What did the doctor say?"

Seeing his panic, a small weight lifted from my chest. I knew it. He had only snapped because his pride was wounded in front of his junior colleague.

But before I could speak, Vivian rolled her eyes, her sigh dripping with irritation. "Isla, please don't tell me you are going to claim you have depression. I stopped using that excuse back in high school. True clinical depression is agonizing. People fight for their lives every day against their own minds. They don't just use it as a convenient excuse whenever things don't go their way."

Hearing her words, Alex's expression hardened again. He scanned me from head to toe, his brow furrowing. "Isla, if you are actually sick, show me your medical records. I will go to the clinic with you."

But there were no medical records. The doctors couldn't find a cause, so they had never given me an official diagnosis. Seeing me freeze, Alex assumed Vivian had caught me in a lie. Anger flared in his eyes.

"Isla, you are seriously fabricating an illness just to make me feel guilty? You sit at home all day doing absolutely nothing, how could you possibly be depressed? I only told you to get a job so you would stop wasting your life, and this is how you manipulate me?"

"No, Alex, listen to me..." I reached out, desperate to explain. But his mind was made up. He saw me as a liar playing the victim. Casting one last disappointed look at me, he opened the door and walked out with Vivian.

I stood there staring at the closed door, my legs trembling. Finally, I dragged myself back to the bedroom and fell to my knees by the trash can, picking out the shredded scraps of my journal. I smoothed them out, trying to piece the puzzle of my life back together, but many fragments were torn too finely to salvage.

Clutching the salvaged pages, I sat on the living room sofa to wait. I knew he would come home. No matter how vicious our arguments had been over the years, he never stayed out overnight because he knew I would worry. Once he returned and we were alone, he would listen to me.

It was past midnight when the key finally turned in the lock. Alex walked in, exhaustion written across his face. He didn't even glance at me sitting on the sofa, walking straight toward the guest bedroom. I sprang up and grabbed his wrist. "Alex, please. I wasn't lying. I am really sick."

He paused, but when he realized I was still clinging to the same excuse instead of apologizing, his frustration boiled over. He whipped around to glare at me. "Fine, Isla. You want to play this game? Tomorrow we are going to the hospital, and we will let the doctors run every test until we find out exactly what is wrong with you!" He violently shook off my grip. "I am exhausted. I am going to bed."

Panic surged through me as I watched him walk away. Tomorrow would be too late. But Alex had already shut the door of the guest room, and a sharp click told me he had locked it from the inside to keep me out.

I knew I should let him rest. He was tired, and arguing would solve nothing. But I had no time. The remaining scraps of my journal weren't enough. Without them, I wouldn't be able to piece together the twenty-four-year-old woman who loved Alex.

The realization that I might wake up tomorrow with no memory of him brought a sharp, physical pain to my chest. Clutching my heart, I slumped against the locked door, tears blurring my vision. "Alex, please, just talk to me. I know you are angry, but I swear I am not lying to you."

Silence greeted me from the other side. No shouts, no complaints, just a heavy, suffocating quietness that seemed to press down on my shoulders. I sobbed silently, the tears choking my throat.

Finally, the door swung open. But Alex's face held no warmth, only a cold irritation that made him look like a total stranger. "Isla, when is this going to end? I have told you a thousand times that I am tired. I have to be in the lab early tomorrow. Can't you show a single shred of consideration for my work? Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow!" He practically roared the last sentence in my face.

I stared at the man standing before me, my heart aching. This wasn't the Alex from my journal. The man I knew would never treat me with such hostility. Recalling how he had shielded Vivian earlier, the question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Alex, do you still love me?"