Three years ago, My husband Thomas brought me the divorce paper with his girlfriend Sarah by his side. He had lost all his memory in a car accident, when I woke up from my coma, he had already moved on. I lied to myself that somewhere deep inside, the man I loved was still trapped inside and his warm eyes and gentle spirit were just overridden by anger and amnesia… but I could no longer believe in that lie. He was gone. Forever.

Now, I am waiting in my dressing room to go on stage. The young girl who had fallen in love with Thomas had been bright and pretty but this woman who stared back at me in the mirror … She is beautiful, strong, and supported. She has two beautiful kids, even though their father don't know their existence. She had suffered and survived. The me now is the best version of me. I could not wait to show it to the world.

However, after I finished my performance, I found, front and center, Thomas is giving me a standing ovation. For the first time in years, he seems to recognize me. Then, the producer Richard found me backstage and inform me that my ex-husband just bought the theater company. What does he want? Can my life ever go back to normal?

The Divorce

(Lydia)

Today marked two months since I last saw Thomas, my husband. My heart raced as I remembered the harsh words he’d flung at me the last time he stormed out.

“I wish I never met you.”

Those searing words had been endlessly echoing in my mind since that dreadful day.

The shrill ring of the phone jolted me from my painful reverie. I glanced at the caller ID and my breath caught. It was Thomas. With trembling fingers, I answered. “H-hello?”

“Lydia.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I'm coming home today.”

Home. Was this house still home if he was not here? Despite the anger and hurt brewing inside me, part of me dared to feel a glimmer of hope.

“You’re...coming back?”

“For now,” he replied curtly. “We need to sort some things out regarding the divorce.”

My heart sank at the d-word. Divorce. The gaping wound in my heart reopened, fresh pain seeping through. “But Thomas, I—”

“I'll see you later today.” His tone was flat and withdrawn, the way it had been ever since I lost him to the accident … or, perhaps, to her.

I could hear her chattering away in the background. Perhaps, they were dining out. Beyond the window, the sun was shining. It was certainly a beautiful day to be on one of those patio lunch spots that Thomas would take me to…The line went dead.

Sinking onto the sofa, I buried my face in my hands, tears leaking through my fingers. How did we end up here? It was all because of that cursed day three years ago...

The snow is blurring the windshield. Thomas struggled to keep control of the car as it veered across the icy road. The awful crunching of metal as we collided with the guardrail.

Then...darkness.

When I finally awoke in the hospital a year later, my world had turned upside down. Thomas was by my bedside, but his eyes held no warmth, no recognition, no love. The man I loved was gone, his memories of our life together erased by the accident.

He had been the only love I’d ever known.

But in his mind, we were strangers. Worse, he had fallen for another woman during the year I was in a coma. Our old friend, Sarah. The betrayal cut deep, but I refused to give up on the man I loved.

“Thomas, please,” I begged, grasping his hand. “It's me, Lydia. Your wife.”

He had pulled away, brow furrowed. “I'm sorry, but I don't remember you. My life is with Sarah now.”

Sarah had flung her arms around him before my very eyes. And he had pulled her close to him. I had sat up in my hospital bed, shaking my head and then clenching my eyes shut, hoping that when I opened them, this nasty vision would go away.

It was not a hallucination. It was my new truth.

I fought hard in the past two years to get him back. I reminded Thomas of our honeymoon in Paris, the coast in Maui where he pulled out a ring, and all of the private jokes that we’d shared.

But my love had drowned into oblivion when Thomas remained stubbornly indifferent, pushing me away at every turn.

“When will you give up?” he’d snapped one day, jaw clenched with barely concealed contempt. “I told you, I don't love you anymore.”

His words were like a dagger to my heart, but still I persisted. I had to believe the love we shared was stronger than his amnesia. My Thomas was still in there somewhere; I just had to find a way to reach him.

Then two months ago, the unthinkable happened. At Thomas's house warming party for his new place with Sarah, someone spiked the cocktail with drugs. That's when the breakthrough happened—or so I thought at the time.

My dress had been as red as the wine that we’d had from the bottle that night alone in his bedroom. I had worn the same perfume as the night of our honeymoon, hoping to engage his senses and bring back forth his memories of me … of the countless nights we’d spent this way.

And, Thomas and I ended up together...intimately.

I had hoped that night would be the catalyst to shake Thomas's memories loose, surely Thomas would remember the way he used to run his hands along my back before pulling me into him and telling me that he most ardently loved me.

But the next morning, he accused me of being a deceitful snake, claiming I had seduced him on purpose.

“Nasty gold-digger! You would go to any length to entrap me with your wiles,” he had snarled.

In a daze, I had returned to our...my little apartment, praying he would come to his senses and realize I was innocent all along.

Now, as I waited for him on my sofa, I dared to hope one last time that he would come back to me. Even though he’d mentioned divorce, Thomas had called. He'd said wanted to come home.

A part of me wanted to take the chance.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the kitchen cooking beef for his favorite homemade lasagna and putting a pie in the oven. Thomas had always relished every morsel of food that I had cooked for him.

I was certain that he would be unable to resist the scent of his favorite apple pie. He had said it reminded him of home. I still wanted to be his home.

I put on a black and white dress that I’d worn the night that he had proposed to me and tied up my red curls into a bun.

My home looked warm and inviting with candles lit across the living room. They glowed from the holder on the dining table, too, where the food I’d made for him was now placed.

The doorbell rang and my heart leapt. But when I opened the door, my hope instantly shriveled. There stood Thomas, lips twisted in a sneer—with Sarah on his arm, looking as smug as ever.

"What's all this?" Thomas's eyes swept over the intimate setting with disdain.

My chin quivered as I struggled to find the words. "I...I thought if I recreated some of our old date nights, it might help jog your memory.”

“Oh please,” Sarah said and followed Thomas indoors, “It’s pathetic how you keep clinging on to the past!”

She cast a look around the apartment with an air of scorn and haughty disdain, her arms still clinging to Thomas.

And it was then that I saw the princess-cut diamond. Thomas had given it to me when we’d first gotten engaged and, now, it was on her ring finger.

Thomas's face hardened to stone. Before I could utter another word, he reached into his jacket and retrieved an envelope, thrusting it against my chest. "Divorce papers. Sign them."

Tears blurred my vision as I met Thomas's cold stare. "Please...let's just talk about this. I know you're still in there, my Thomas."

"Don't delude yourself." His voice dripped with disgust. "You're nothing but an obsessive snake, trying to wriggle your way back into my life. Well, I'm done playing your twisted games…"

My heart shattered into a million pieces as his hateful vitriol poured forth.

"... conniving...evil...always sabotaging my happiness with Sarah. I wish I never met you!"

There they were again. Those damning words.

I wish I never met you.

The words tore at my heart. For the last time, I tried to convince myself that somewhere deep inside, the Thomas I loved was still trapped and his warm eyes and gentle spirit were just overridden by anger and amnesia, but I could no longer believe in the lie.

He was gone.

Forever.

"I wish the same," I whispered.

My hands shook as I took the pen he offered me and scrawled my name on the dotted line.

The Pregnancy

(Lydia)

Tears spilled down my cheeks unbidden as I watched him walk away, arm-in-arm with the woman who stole him from me.

My heart was broken. I was left to pick up the shattered pieces of my once blissful life. My husband was a soulless stranger, the other half of my heart irretrievably lost. I could only pray that one day, the gaping wound he left will begin to heal over.

Until then, I would go through the motions, forcing myself to move forward into a harsh new reality.

A cold, unrelenting world where the warmth of Thomas's embrace was but a distant, rapidly fading memory.

***

“Albert, no!” my mother had screamed as my father hurled a fist into her eye. She had been screaming and crying. And is that the house that I had grown up in. My little sister, Ruby, would hide behind me. I would watch from the top of the stairs as a child. When I grew a little bit older, I began to fight.

At first, Mama was grateful for the help. But, over time, I began to feel her resentment.

It pierced through me like a sword.

I never understood why.

My father hurled a big one at my face too. It was right after my freshman year at college. I packed up my bags and left, tears streaking the subway window that I had rested my head against.

“You’ll never make it on your own in this world!” he had yelled before I walked down the pavement from his house.

It was Thomas’s arms that I crashed into then I was shaken and sobbed.

“It’s okay,” he had murmured into my hair, as he caressed the back of my head and held me in his arms.

“I will always love, revere, and be there for you Lydia,” he had said, holding my tears streaked face in his palms.

At that time, he’d been my boyfriend for a year.

When we had graduated, Thomas had taken me home.

“We’re getting married!” he had exclaimed to his mother.

“If you’re going to be my daughter-in-law,” she had said to me through her exacting stare, “I want you to give up these silly performances.”

She had put a hand on my shoulder, a diamond glinting on her finger, and said, “You should befit the privilege of being the wife of my son.”

I had been happy to give my acting dream for Thomas. He meant the whole world to me.

“I do” I had said, beaming before him in a lawn by a lake. The sky above us had been blue and sunny. Our wedding cake had fifteen layers. I had worn a strapless white gown covered in lace and with a train that stretched all the way to the aisle.

And then the princess-cut diamond shone on my finger.

We’d flown to Paris on the very same day and spent the whole night moaning in ecstasy. His body had felt warm and comforting against mine.

I had climbed out onto the balcony the following day, still draped in sheets, and welcomed my new life with open arms.

“Welcome back!” Sarah had spread her arms out at us when we had returned to Denver. She had arranged a dinner for us.

But Thomas and I had stolen glances at one another, barely touching our food at all, and eager to return to the bedroom.

And then I moved into his house. As Mrs. Lombardi, I had redecorated the mansion: all white and gold with crystal décor.

“Surprise!” I had cheered when Thomas returned home as soon as the new decor had been set up.

He had looked around for barely a second before he had swooped me up into his arms. I had belly-laughed as he had said, “It’s beautiful but not quite as much as you,” and carried me back into our bedroom.

I had been the happiest in my life.

***

“Love, revere, and be there for you,” I murmured now, his voice echoing in my head, and only sadness embracing me.

At the table, the apple pie and lasagna that I’d so lovingly cooked for him had grown cold.

I tried to get up from the floor so that I could put it away, dashing my hopes as I did so. But, all of a sudden, I felt sick.

I ran towards the bathroom and lurched.

Oh, no, no, I thought, Please don’t be! I scrambled across my bedroom to the dresser drawer and hastily scoured for it. Tylenol … Cough drops … ah, there it was: the home pregnancy test.

I went inside the bathroom and waited. Two red stripes appeared on it in the hazy bathroom light. “That’s impossible!” I exclaimed, and fished for a second one from the box. Ten minutes later, it still showed two strips.

Third time’s the charm, I thought. But the results didn’t change.

***

“I would love to have a baby with you,” Thomas had said, nuzzling his nose against mine. “I want it to have your red locks,” he had tucked a stray strand behind my ear and leaned in to nibble my lip.

We had been trying to conceive before the accident and had both been delighted at the idea of the pitter patter of tiny feet across the floor. But, month after month, like clockwork, my period had arrived.

And every time it did, Thomas would hold me close and I would breathe in his pheromones as I cried myself to sleep in his arms. Sometimes, I had suspected he was crying too.

My mother in law had once seen me red-eyed when she had come over for brunch the morning after.

“Oh, please,” she had murmured softly as she sipped a cup of black tea from my painted china teacup, “What could you possibly have to be upset about?”

I sniffled and turned away. She had only gone on to say, “Honey, you were a struggling actress with no future when my son rescued you from a lifetime of scrubbing tables. Everything that you have now is inordinately good for you.”

And, maybe, a small part of me had believed her.

***

Ahead of the mirror in my bathroom, I started to uncontrollably shake. I simply couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that I was about to bear my ex-husband’s child.

I had never been able to reconcile with how Thomas’s warm love could have so swiftly turned into spite and loathing. There would be no way he would ever accept the child as his own.

Imagining the words “not mine” spewing from his lips when he learned about my condition was enough to make me feel sick again.

I bent down double over the sink and retched. Slowly, bracing myself against the sink, I rose again.

I looked inquisitively at the girl in the mirror, wondering if she might have any answers for how I was supposed to handle this. And then my father’s last words to me echoed in my head, “You’ll never make it out there alone!”

I washed up and dried my face. It was time to stop crying.

The Imposer

(Lydia)

When I stepped back into the bedroom, I jerked. Sarah was standing there. She eyed me closely and inquisitively.

“Are you pregnant?” she asked.

My face went pale.

“No … no, not at all,” I bumbled. I didn’t want even Thomas to know, let alone this ungrateful snake.

Sarah’s eyes hardened into steel.

“I’m going to murder both you and that stupid sister of yours if you are!” she frothed.

I clenched my fist at the fact that she’d brought Ruby into this, but then caught an inkling of fear on her face.

She was trembling.

Seeing her face turn white made me feel a little bit better.

I was about to talk back to her but realized that I now had a baby to think of. As a mother, I could not be petty.

A mother … The thought inspired a clandestine delight inside me.

“Why are you back?” I asked her instead. I eyed her hairstyle, a braided ponytail – it was exactly how I used to do it.

This way, I had said to her, twisting a lock of her yellow hair into the intricate plait that I had made.

“Thank you for teaching me!” Sarah had said, “Now I’ll look just like you!”

How had I missed the signs? She had always wanted everything that I had.

And she had snatched it all away, I thought.

Thomas appeared in the doorway behind her. He was holding up a box.

“Your things,” he said flatly.

“Just put them on the table,” I said quietly, “And then, could the two of you please leave?”

Thomas set the box on the floor. Sarah grabbed his forearm as they made their way out for the second time today.

***

I had known them both since university but I had always been a bit of an outsider to them; I wasn’t as wealthy as either of these two.

Thomas and Sarah had always been close, having known one another throughout their childhoods.

But when Thomas began courting me, the three of us became inseparable.

Sarah had been like a sister to me; she would follow me around everywhere and emulate everything that I did, wore, and said.

Sarah had been there when I had first gotten drunk; she had held my hair as I threw up and she had practiced plays with me as I pursued my degree in theater at Western Illinois. We would get matching outfits and parade around bars on the weekend.

Now, Sarah threatened me and my sister’s safety just to be with Thomas?

I don’t know how long Sarah had had an eye on Thomas, but when I had woken up from the coma, she stopped pretending.

“You know how much I loved him!” I had squealed, my eyes streaming with tears that I made no attempt to wipe off.

“Oh, Lydia, you were never good enough for Thomas,” she had said, sipping my favorite peach iced-tea that I knew she didn’t even like, “Him and I were always meant to be.”

The two of them had ripped my heart to pieces – Thomas with his betrayal and Sarah with that of her own. It astonished me that she could have done something like this but, perhaps, I had always known.

I had ignored my intuition.

And, now, he was going to marry her.

***

“Christ, can’t he at least get a new ring?” Ruby exclaimed with untrammeled exasperation. She was folding the laundry away and I was sipping a cup of hot tea, having just told her what had happened.

Ruby had arrived yesterday after I had called and told her that I was pregnant. She was calling herself “the caretaker regime”.

Now, she shot a glance in my direction and then walked up to and put her arms around me, “Lydia,” she said softly, “I know you loved the man. But if he had truly loved you as deeply as you did him, he would have remembered everything by now.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“I’ve been doing some research and amnesia isn’t supposed to last for that long. What if he and Sarah were secretly having an affair the whole time?”

“Ruby!” I growled, wounded. I clenched the mug.

“Okay, I’m sorry!” she raised her brows, “I won’t bring it up again.”

She returned to the laundry basket and began folding away the last of the clothes.

“I still think he loves me,” I admitted, “Why else would he have come here yesterday?”

Ruby didn’t say a word but passed me a scolding look before heading off into her bedroom. I crossed the living room to the window overlooking the city and watched the sun set again.

I resented Thomas’s mother for not allowing me to act. But after I had quit my theater auditions, I had made myself useful volunteering in community projects and setting up scholarship funds for students. Thomas had been supportive of me the whole time.

He had always so intently cheered me on and the joy was enough to make my heart burst. All of this only made it impossible to let him go when I lost him to amnesia.

Thomas was forever on my mind, or as I liked to think of it, etched into the creases of my heart.

The thought of it now made me shudder.

I would no longer think of him that way. I begged and cried. I had bent over backwards trying to remind him of our love and he had only responded with cold indifference.

When my children arrived in this world, I wouldn’t have time to think about Thomas. My sole focus would be on them: providing for, loving, and nurturing them.

I didn’t want my children to grow up in the same kind of household as myself. I would never neglect them. I would never be the kind of mother who was always staring out of the window in a dimly lit room and cursing her life.

I wanted to give them the joy they deserved.

Thinking of this gave me strength; the strength that I’d been looking for all this time.