I Forgot The Wife I Saved

I spent five years supporting my paralyzed wife. I poured every cent I had into her physical therapy, nursing her back to health so she could walk again and reclaim her place in high society. My reward? Her revenge. "Don't you dare call me your wife," she had hissed into my ear, her voice dripping with disgust. "Every single day I spent with you made me gag." To cover up a high-society scandal, her family had me beaten within an inch of my life. As I lay gasping in my own blood, she turned on her heel, walked onto a glittering stage at a press conference, and went public with her childhood sweetheart—the true love of her life. The crowd cheered, bestowing their blessings upon the golden couple. Overnight, I became the ultimate punchline. Everyone waited in breathless anticipation to watch me break. Except they didn't know one thing: the severe brain trauma from the beating erased every single memory I had of her. I didn't care about her anymore, because to me, she was a total stranger. It wasn't until she realized I had truly forgotten her that her icy pride crumbled. She dropped to her knees, sobbing, begging me for a second chance. 1 Down in the reeking dampness of the alley storm drain, Trey’s fist slammed into my ribs like a sledgehammer. But when agony crosses a certain threshold, the mind simply detaches. My nerves were burnt out; my body was nothing more than meat reacting on pure reflex. Trey was Hedy’s golden boy, her eternal crush. And me? I was nothing. A ghost she was eager to exorcise. Trey grabbed my jaw, landing another brutal punch across my cheekbone. "Look at you, Harry. Did you really think a pathetic zero like you was worthy of putting his hands on my fiancée?" I clamped my teeth together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a groan. But then he signaled his two hired heavies. They grabbed my arms, twisting them backward with cold, mechanical precision. "Snap. Snap." Two sickening cracks echoed in the enclosed concrete space. My arms gave out, completely useless. Cold sweat trickled into the corner of my mouth, metallic and sour. I forced my eyes open, glaring at him through a swell of red bruised flesh. "No matter what you do... Hedy is my wife." Trey didn't get angry. He burst into a cruel, breathless laugh. "You actually believed she loved you? You absolute fool. You were just a pawn she used to lay low while her family fought over the inheritance!" The words sliced deeper than any fist. Hedy’s face flashed through my mind—the woman I had spent five desperate years caring for. I remembered watching the live stream from my phone just hours ago, seeing her glowing under the flashbulbs, kissing Trey in front of a dozen reporters as they officially announced their engagement. A quiet, suffocating ache bloomed in my chest. He was right. Physical agony was nothing compared to the slow death of a shattered heart. The beatings continued. My arms were already ruined, so they moved on to my legs. By the time they were finished, they dragged my broken, contorted body and dumped me into the open sewer trench nearby. Foul, stagnant water rushed into my nose and mouth. As I sank into the filth, Hedy's parting words echoed through my fading consciousness: "Every single day I spent with you made me gag." A dark, self-deprecating smile touched my cracked lips as I lay dying in the sludge. The soft-spoken, tender woman I thought I knew... the wife I had cherished... this was how she had viewed me all along. Five years ago, I found Hedy abandoned and paralyzed. I spent every penny of my savings getting her medical care, working double shifts day and night just to cover her prescriptions and physical therapy. I pushed myself so hard I developed severe stomach ulcers that bled into cancer, relying on daily medication just to stay alive. Then, five years later, her memory magically returned. She vanished, reappearing as the long-lost heiress to the multimillion-dollar Livingston empire. I thought my sacrifices had finally paid off. But at her grand homecoming gala, Trey stood up and publicly accused me of kidnapping her. I tried to explain, but Hedy didn't say a word to defend me. Instead, she retreated into Trey’s arms, trembling like a helpless victim. She slipped into her old lover's embrace so naturally. She watched in silence as her rabid fans and security beat me unconscious right outside the venue. And finally, Trey snapped my limbs and threw me into this dark ditch to rot. How absurd. For five long years, I had washed her clothes, brushed her hair, wiped her clean, and carried her from room to room. On days when we were so broke we couldn't even afford eggs, she would smile gently and push her half-eaten bowl of rice toward me. The moment her legs healed, everything changed. Human heart strings are fragile things; put enough pressure on them, and they snap completely. The icy water sapped the last bit of warmth from my skin. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. "If I could just forget all of this," I thought, a second before the darkness swallowed me whole, "maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad." ... Perhaps God took pity on my miserable existence. When I finally opened my eyes, I was lying in a sterile, sunlit hospital room. Before I could even process where I was, the heavy wooden door burst open with a deafening bang. Hedy and Trey stormed in. Seeing me propped up on the bed, Hedy’s brow furrowed in immediate irritation. Her voice was sharp, coated in icy condescension. "Harry, are you doing this on purpose?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "Was the press conference not enough of a disaster for you? Do you have any idea what people are saying? The entire city is laughing, claiming the great Livingston heiress lowered herself to marry a dirt-poor nobody!" She stepped closer, her eyes flashing with venom. "If Trey hadn’t acted fast and played along to spin the story, my family would have disowned me by now! And you have the nerve to call me, whining that Trey beat you up? Do you think I'm blind?" Trey feigned a nonchalant wave of his hand, putting on a show of magnanimity. "It’s fine, Hedy. He didn't mean it. He’s just having a hard time letting you go—after all, you two share a lot of history." He walked over to my bedside, wearing the fake, polite smile of a predator. He placed a heavy hand firmly onto my broken shoulder, squeezing down just enough to inflict agonizing pressure. "If you ask me, Harry, you should just apologize to Hedy. What do you say?" He smiled sweetly, but the malice in his grip was suffocating. He thought he had me completely under his thumb. I stared at him, feeling nothing but a profound, cold detachment. Reaching up with my uninjured hand, I slapped his arm away. "Who the hell are you people?" I said, my voice flat. "Get out before I call security." 2 Hedy froze for a fraction of a second. Then, her face contorted in rage, and she stepped forward, her palm cracking hard across my cheek. "Call security?" she sneered. "Have you not humiliated me enough?" She leaned in, her voice shaking with disgust. "And "'who are you?'" Really, Harry? Is this your new game? You realize you screwed up big time and almost ruined my family's reputation, so now you're pretending to have amnesia to avoid taking responsibility? I was completely blind to ever marry a coward like you!" Beside her, Trey let out a smug, quiet chuckle before quickly adopting a look of fake remorse. "Hedy, to be honest... he doesn't look like he's acting. What if I went a little too heavy-handed earlier? It's all my fault..." I looked at Trey’s passive-aggressive, villainous routine and felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. Who was this guy? A grown man pulling a pathetic, snake-like damsel act right in front of me. Losing the last shred of my patience, I looked at them coldly. "If neither of you has anything intelligent to say, please leave. I don't know you." Hedy scoffed, her lip curling in bitter amusement. "Still playing games? I don't have time for your drama, Harry. Don't think for a second that faking memory loss is going to make me forgive you. Get this through your head: you are forbidden from showing your face anywhere near me for the next few months. Otherwise, I'm filing for divorce!" I stared at her as if she were an escaped patient from the psychiatric ward next door. Just as I reached for the call button to summon a nurse, Hedy's phone chimed. She glanced at the screen and answered immediately. "Hello? The exclusive interview? Yes, we're on our way right now." So she was finally leaving. Good. I pulled my hand back from the call button. Hedy caught my distant stare, her tone softening just a fraction into condescending pity. "Trey and I are doing a live studio broadcast today. Not that you'd understand any of that high-society media stuff anyway. Just stay put, Harry. Trey and I will drop by to check on you tomorrow." She grabbed Trey’s arm, and the two of them hurried out the door. I sat back against the pillows, frowning. She clearly knew my name. But before I could wrap my brain around it, the door creaked open again. A tall, slender figure stood on the threshold. My heart skipped a beat. 3 "Leona...?" She walked into the room wearing a simple white dress, looking just as refined and delicate as she had five years ago. Leona was my high school sweetheart, my first love. We had spent seven years together in a relationship everyone thought would end at the altar. But the world wasn't a fairy tale. Her father, the chairman of the massive Winslow Group, looked down on a poor kid like me. He used every resource at his disposal to send Leona overseas, forcing an ocean between us. We hadn't spoken since. Yet standing here now, it felt as though she knew everything that had happened to me. Leona sat down quietly in the chair beside my bed. She took a deep breath, her eyes brimming with a terrifying mix of sorrow and tender affection. "How long were you going to keep ruining yourself, Harry?" she whispered softly. Then, she told me everything. And as the words left her lips, a part of me wished I had never asked. I was suffering from traumatic, selective amnesia. The woman who had just walked out wasn't a stranger or a lunatic—she was Hedy, my wife of five years. The man holding her hand was Trey, her high-society ex-fiancé. For five years, I had nearly worked myself into an early grave to care for Hedy, destroying my own health in the process. It had been a week since the beatings outside her gala left me broken and bloody in a storm drain. But the most sickening truth was the revelation of what I had actually been to her: a disposable shield. When the Livingston family fell into an ugly internal war over their massive fortune, Hedy faked her paralysis and went into hiding to escape the crossfire. Once the dust settled and the power was secured, she miraculously 'recovered' her health, returned to her family, and reclaimed her throne. I was nothing more than collateral damage she left in the dirt. Leona’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she gently surveyed the bruises and casts covering my body. The deep care in her gaze was undeniable. After years apart, we sat in profound silence, but a soft, quiet wave rippled through the stillness between us. "In a couple of days, I'm transferring you to a top-tier private facility," Leona said gently, breaking the silence. "Once you're fully healed, I want you to come work at my firm." I blinked, caught off guard. From her explanation, I realized how many career opportunities I had thrown away over the last five years for Hedy's sake. Leona ran an international firm abroad; knowing my financial struggles, she had offered me a spot multiple times in the past. Every single time, I had turned her down because I couldn't leave Hedy behind. Yet here she was, offering a life raft to a man who had absolutely nothing left. "Okay," I said quietly. "I'll do it." I had lost every memory of Hedy, and my recollections of the last five years were a fractured mess. This was a second chance—a clean slate to start over far away from this nightmare. Hedy didn't need me anymore, and frankly, I owed her nothing. A soft, radiant smile broke across Leona's face. She stayed in the room for hours, keeping me company until late in the evening. Not long after Leona left, Hedy returned. She swept into the room draped in flashy, head-to-toe designer labels, holding Trey’s hand. The moment she stepped over the threshold, she pinched her nose with one hand and fanned the air frantically with the other. "God, why does it smell so terrible in here?" Hedy whined, her face contorted in disgust. "Harry, have you not showered in a week? The chairman of our charitable foundation is coming to tour the ward the Livingston family funded. How are we supposed to host guests when you've turned this place into a barn?" She glanced back and forth between Trey and me, her lips curling into a sneer. "Look at Trey, then look at yourself. I've never met anyone as dirty as you." Trey waved his hand with mock humility. "Come on, Hedy, everyone has their own lifestyle choices. Maybe he thinks smelling like this makes him look more masculine. Don't be too hard on him." Neither of them seemed to care—or even notice—that I was pinned to the bed, immobilized by heavy casts and monitor wires. I suddenly remembered what Leona had told me earlier. When Hedy was paralyzed, I had bathed her, washed her clothes, and changed her bedsheets up to five times a day. I had handled every degrading detail of her care with my own hands so she would never feel stripped of her dignity. Now, the tables were turned. Not only was I left without care, but my basic human dignity was being trampled into the mud. Hedy pulled a takeout container from a bag and set it on the bedside table. "Here. Trey and I bought this specifically for you." I glanced inside. It was a box of dry, cold rice paired with a dish swimming in bright red, blindingly hot chili oil. I had just come out of major surgery. I wasn't even allowed to eat solid rice, let alone spicy food. I was on a strict liquid diet. Leona had mentioned how I used to spend hours in the kitchen for Hedy. To ensure she got proper nutrition while bedridden, I had enrolled in a professional culinary nutrition course, studying for an entire year just to cook customized, stomach-soothing meals for her every single day. And this was how she treated me when I was the one lying in a hospital bed. It didn't matter anymore. We were strangers now, and our paths would never cross again after today. "I can't eat spicy food," I said, my voice flat and lifeless. Hedy froze. In the past, whenever she brought me anything, I would have been overwhelmed with gratitude. I expected her to fly into a rage. But instead, her eyes drifted down to the maze of IV lines, monitors, and heavy bindings wrapped around my body. A long sigh escaped her lips. "Fine," she muttered, her voice dropping slightly. "I'll go buy you something else." 4 Once Hedy walked out, Trey dropped his polite facade instantly. A smirk played on his lips as he stepped closer to my bed. "You don't seriously think she's going to stay with a pathetic cripple like you, do you?" he sneered quietly. "Dream on, man." I stared up at the ceiling, ignoring him completely. I just wanted these bizarre, toxic strangers out of my room. My silence only infuriated him further. He walked over to the washbasin, filled a metal bowl with scalding hot water, and brought it back to the table. Steam billowed off the surface. "Acting all high and mighty, huh?" Trey growled, his voice dropping into a vicious whisper. "Let's see how tough you are when I burn that arrogant look right off your face." He grabbed both of my healing, broken hands and forced them down toward the boiling water. A surge of blinding pain shot straight through my nervous system, making my internal organs tremble. Summoning every ounce of adrenaline left in my body, I violently jerked my arms back. The heavy metal bowl flipped, crashing to the floor and spilling steaming water everywhere just as Hedy walked back through the door. "Harry! What the hell are you doing?!" she shrieked. Trey immediately crumpled into a posture of bruised innocence, clutching his hand. "It's okay, Hedy, really... I was just trying to help Harry wash his hands so he could eat, but I guess I accidentally knocked the bowl over..." "You don't have to cover for him, Trey! I saw the whole thing!" Hedy snapped. She marched over to the side of my bed and delivered a fierce, stinging slap straight to my face. "You ungrateful bastard!" she screamed, her eyes wild with fury. "Do you have any idea how much Trey urged me to come visit you today? Is this how you treat someone who's trying to help you?" Trey feigned concern, laying a hand on her arm. "Hedy, don't be like that. Let him eat his food. I'm sure he didn't mean it." "Of course he meant it!" Hedy barked back, her face red. She snatched the fresh takeout box off the table and slammed it directly into the trash can. "He doesn't deserve to eat! Let him starve for a night—maybe then he'll figure out who actually cares about him!" I stared at this stranger who was supposed to be my wife, completely bewildered. How could I have ever been stupid enough to marry a woman like this? The sheer absurdity of it made me laugh internally. "Don't bother starving me," I said, my voice dripping with cold detachment. "Let's just get a divorce." Hedy went completely still. In all our years together, I had never once uttered that word. It was always her weapon, a threat she used to keep me in line. She stood frozen for two full seconds before her pride kicked in. "Oh, look at you! Your wings are grown now, huh? Threatening me with a divorce?" she shouted, her voice shrill. "Fine! You think I'm scared of you? Divorce it is! I can't wait to be rid of a loser like you!" She spun around and stomped toward the exit, slamming her designer heels against the floor with extra force. I knew what she was doing. She was giving me a grand, dramatic exit, expecting me to throw off the covers, crawl out of bed, and beg her to stay. I watched her retreating back, feeling absolutely nothing. No anger, no heartbreak, no desperation. Whoever I used to be, whatever pathetic dynamic we had shared—it was dead. I was never going to bow down to anyone ever again. The moment the door slammed shut, I reached for my phone and called Leona. "Leona," I said quietly. "Please set up that hospital transfer. Today." If I was going to cut ties, I was going to cut them clean down to the bone. ... Two days later, with Leona's help, I was successfully checked into a top-tier private medical facility on the other side of town. Though my body was slowly healing, I still required intense daily physical therapy. I was just attempting to sit up and head toward the rehab room when the door was kicked open. Hedy and Trey burst into the room, red-faced and furious. "Harry! Who gave you permission to transfer hospitals?!" Hedy yelled, charging up to my bed. "Do you have any idea how much money I paid that last hospital? Because you left without notice, the room fees are non-refundable!" I looked at her coldly. At that previous hospital, I had been left lying in a bed day after day. Not a single doctor came to check my charts, and no one offered a single round of physical therapy. She hadn't been paying for care—she had been paying for me to rot in a corner. Over five years, the money I spent on her medical bills could have paid for an entire floor of a private hospital. Now she was screaming at me over two wasted days of a basic ward fee. Seeing my icy silence, her rage mounted. "Are you still playing this stupid amnesia trick? Are you addicted to acting like a victim?" Exhausted by her endless noise, I grabbed my updated medical chart off the bedside table and tossed it right into her lap. She picked it up, her brow furrowing as she flipped through the pages. A second later, her body went rigid. Trey immediately leaned over her shoulder, sniffing in disdain. "Hedy, come on. People can forge medical records all the time! He probably paid some shady clinic to print this out!" A look of realization instantly washed over Hedy's face, replaced by arrogant triumph. "Harry, I don't have time for your cheap little mind games. Pack your things and move back to the original hospital right now! What is wrong with you?" Trey smirked, stepping forward with a sinister gleam in his eyes. "Hedy, don't stress yourself out. I actually know an old-school remedy for memory loss from one of my relatives." Hedy frowned slightly, but nodded. "Fine. Whatever fixes his attitude." With her explicit permission, Trey let out a cold chuckle. He lunged forward, grabbed my shoulders, and dragged me right off the bed onto the floor. Before I could brace myself, he slammed the heel of his heavy leather shoe directly onto my chest. "The old doctors say amnesia happens because the brain experienced a trauma it's trying to avoid," Trey sneered, putting his full weight on my sternum. "If you want the memories back, you just have to hit him with the exact same shock he felt before!" He stomped down hard, three times in rapid succession. I felt the sickening crunch of bone as my ribs caved in under his boot. Hedy stood by the door, her arms crossed, watching the assault with a faint frown. She didn't say a single word to stop him. Looking at her cold, unbothered expression as I suffocated on the floor, the sheer tragedy of my past life hit me. Leona had told me that years ago, if I so much as splattered a drop of hot oil on my hand while cooking for Hedy, she would cry, wrap my hands in bandages, and blow on the burn to soothe the pain. Now, Trey was literally stomping the life out of me, and she barely batted an eye. How terrifyingly fast a human heart could curdle. A sudden, excruciating crack echoed through the room. A jagged piece of my fractured rib pierced directly into my internal organ. Blinding white pain surged through my skull, wiping my mind completely blank. Cold sweat poured down my face as I gagged for air. But Trey wasn't done. He reached down, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked my head back. "So?" Trey laughed maliciously. "Does that jump-start your memory, buddy? Remember who I am now?" When I didn't answer, Trey grinned, tightening his grip on my hair to slam my skull against the hard concrete wall. "Stop it! What the hell are you doing?!" a voice shrieked from the hallway. The next second, Leona sprinted into the room. She threw her entire body against Trey, forcefully ripping his hands off me. Hedy's head snapped toward Leona, her eyes narrowing in anger. "Who the hell are you?" Leona completely ignored her. She dropped to her knees beside me, her hands trembling violently as she checked my chest and bleeding mouth, her face pale with terror. Seeing a beautiful, elegant woman hovering over me with such obvious intimacy sent Hedy over the edge. "Unbelievable!" Hedy barked, her voice shrill. "It's only been a few days and you've already found yourself a little hooker? And you had the nerve to claim you lost your memory!" She lunged forward, swinging her hand to slap Leona across the face. "Get your hands off my husband!" Leona took the hit, stumbling backward, but immediately scrambled back in front of me, using her body as a shield. "Your husband?!" Leona shouted, tears spilling over her lashes. "You actually have the nerve to call him your husband? Do you have any idea what he gave up for you over the last five years?! You let this monster beat him into a cripple! You don't love him—you never did!" Hedy blinked, caught off guard for a split second, before bursting into a loud, mocking laugh. "I don't love him? What would an outsider like you know?!" Hedy sneered, taking a step closer. "Even if I didn't give a damn about him, he loves me to death! Do you have any idea how devoted he was to me?" She gestured wildly around the room. "For five whole years, he lived in my house! He cooked my meals, fed me, washed my clothes, and cleaned my shoes! I hated sitting in a wheelchair, so whenever I went out, he carried me on his back! Five years of carrying me everywhere! He even tattooed my name onto his wrist, swearing he'd love me forever!" Smirking triumphantly, Hedy grabbed my limp right wrist and yanked it into the air to show Leona. "Right, Harry? Tell her!" She looked down at me, expecting to see the familiar, desperate adoration in my eyes. Instead, she met a gaze that was completely, utterly hollow.