Married for three years, my wife Veronica Vargas still didn’t know me. She could remember the whole world, yet she couldn’t remember my face.

If I changed my hairstyle, she would ask, “Sir, who are you looking for?” If I wore different clothes, she thought I was a new security guard at home.

On our anniversary, I was trapped with her company’s employees in a collapsed mine. In the darkness, I felt my way to her side and told her I was Lincoln Perkins. But she pushed me away. “Stop pretending, my husband didn’t come.”

The rescue team dug for three days and nights before pulling me out alive. That evening, at the celebration banquet, Veronica lifted her glass. “Thanks to everyone, no casualties.”

She had forgotten I was still lying in the hospital.

From then on, I wore only one style of clothing, kept the same hairstyle, used the same cologne, everything so Veronica could recognize me.

Yet every time she looked at me, her eyes still carried that same emptiness, as if I were nothing more than a stranger.

I once thought it was punishment from the heavens. But the day I flew overseas to surprise her on her birthday, I saw her break through the crowd and throw herself into another man’s arms without a second thought.

So in the end, she couldn’t remember my face simply because I wasn’t the one she loved. If that was the truth, then I had no choice but to disappear into the sea of strangers.

——

Just as I turned to leave, several foreign police officers rushed in and surrounded me. They mistook me for a criminal. My clumsy French only made things worse, and before I knew it, they forced me down to my knees.

In shock and fear, I looked around and saw Veronica not too far away. Desperate, I shouted, “Veronica! Help me! They’ve got the wrong man!”

She turned her head at my voice. Her eyes moved across my face, but then, as if looking at someone she had never met, she looked away. “I don’t know him.”

That was the coldest thing I had ever heard.

Fifteen days passed. In a dark interrogation room and a freezing cell, I counted every bell toll just to survive each endless hour, until finally, a DNA test proved I was innocent.

Dragging my tired body out of the police station, the one waiting for me wasn’t Veronica but her secretary.

Giovanni Collins adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice filled with blame. “Mr. Perkins, what are you doing? Do you realize President Vargas waited at the airport for you for two whole hours?”

Whatever faint warmth I had left in my heart was completely frozen by the cold wind.

The day I returned home, as soon as I stepped out of the gate, I was surrounded by flashing lights and microphones. My time in jail overseas had already turned into a scandal known to everyone.

After I finally broke free from the crowd and walked into the house, the first thing Veronica said was not concern but reproach.

“How many times have I told you to wear a white coat when you go out? Why don’t you ever listen?”

She frowned, scolding me like a child. “You know I have face blindness. I can’t tell men’s faces apart.”

I clenched my hands.

She flipped another page of her document without even lifting her head, then gave a second order.

“The PR department already prepared the statement. Tomorrow we’ll hold a press conference.”

“You go explain and apologize to the public.”

Apologize? Who was I supposed to apologize to? For Veronica’s coldness and indifference, or for her excuse of face blindness?

I looked at her distant face and quietly asked, “At the airport, that man you hugged, who was he?”

Her hand that was turning the pages stopped, and for a moment, her face froze.

A few seconds later, she finally said, “There were too many people then, I thought that person was you.”

I almost laughed out of anger. That man was wearing a bright red leather jacket, with dreadlocks I had never once kept in my life.

And I didn’t even have a single piece of red clothing in my closet.

“Veronica, that day, I clearly called out to you.” The unwillingness in my heart still forced the words out.

“And then?” Veronica lifted her eyelids. “Do you want me to apologize for my psychological illness?”

“Lincoln, you already knew I had this problem before we got married.”

Looking at her indifferent face, I suddenly felt exhausted. Yes, everything was of my own making.

“Fine, I’ll go to the press conference.”

But Veronica’s eyes shifted, fixed on my bag, where half of an airline magazine was showing.

I followed her gaze and saw the page open to a group photo of a symphony orchestra performance.

Dozens of people crowded together, and in the most unnoticeable corner sat a man playing the cello. He was the man Veronica had embraced.

The photo was so blurry it was nearly impossible to make out his features, yet Veronica, with just one glance, recognized him.

So, it wasn’t that she couldn’t recognize men’s faces; she just couldn’t recognize the man she didn’t love.

My heart felt as if it were being gripped, and even breathing became painful, but I still forced a smile, pulled out the magazine, and shoved it into Veronica’s arms.

“Here, take it. I don’t want it anymore.”

With this identity and these three years of neglect, I didn’t want them anymore.

The next day, I arrived at the press conference on time.

The spotlights fell on me like countless blades striking all at once.

I wore a gray-green suit, the complete opposite of the white Veronica had always demanded. Taking the host’s microphone, I began calmly.

“The reason I was wrongly arrested was because my wife, Veronica, told the police to their faces that she didn’t know me.”

The entire audience erupted. I paused and turned toward a camera, as though my eyes were fixed on Veronica through the lens.

“I think, for someone who has been married three years and still cannot recognize her own husband, being trapped in this marriage must be nothing but painful. So, I’ve decided to grant her wish. Veronica and I will hereby divorce.”

Once I got into the car, I realized my hands were trembling, not from fear but from the relief of finally breaking free of my shackles.

My phone vibrated wildly, the screen flashing Veronica’s name, and I turned it off without hesitation.

The car hadn’t gone far when it was forced to stop by Veronica. She stepped out, her face so dark it looked as though water could drip from it.

“Lincoln, are you crazy?!”

She dragged me from the car, her nails digging into my skin. “Who gave you the nerve to spout nonsense at the press conference!”

I stared coldly at her furious face. “Which sentence did I say wasn’t true?”

She was caught off guard by my question, her anger flaring even hotter.

“Do you know this could hurt other people? What if they dig up the airport surveillance, and Enzo gets dragged in? He worked so hard to get into the Vienna Orchestra!”

She really could tell them apart, and the pain in my chest spread all at once, as if tearing me apart. “Veronica, you can recognize him.”

Veronica’s face showed thin irritation. “So what? He means something different to me, but I still married you. Don’t forget, all of this was you begging for it.”

Yes, everything was my obsession. Veronica couldn’t even remember my face, so how could she remember a promise made twenty years ago?

I wiped the tears from my face. “Veronica, I regret it. Let’s divorce.”

Veronica was silent, but her face showed none of the relief I had imagined. After a long while, she finally spoke, as if delivering a heavy decision.

“Stop it. If you keep wearing white clothes like before, I won’t mistake you. I won’t divorce you.”

“Really?” I forced a smile, lifting my head to look at her.

She had already forgotten what document she accepted from me that morning. I had only worn a wig and changed my clothes, and Veronica thought I was the new secretary.

Without even glancing, she signed the divorce papers and even had me tidy up the safe in her study.

Inside, I found a photo of Enzo carefully cut from yesterday’s magazine. The safe was filled with countless reports about him, marked in red, in blue, in black.

No matter how Enzo dressed, Veronica could recognize him.

The oldest photo showed Enzo still in high school, wearing a white shirt with his hair cropped short, the very same image I had carried with me for three years.

As I stood in a daze, Veronica grabbed my hand. “Lincoln, I won’t lose you again.”

I curled my lips in a bitter smile, just about to open my mouth and tell her everything, but suddenly she shoved me aside and ran in another direction.

I followed her gaze and saw Enzo’s back disappearing into the crowd. Halfway there, Veronica seemed to remember something.

She turned back and shouted, “Lincoln, wait for me, I’ll be right back.”

But her words were thrown toward another man beside me, dressed in the same gray-green suit.

Without hesitation, I turned and left. Veronica grew furious when she realized I had gone on my own, but that day, I was only sitting in a nearby café, discussing paperwork for a new identity. The whole afternoon until nightfall, Veronica never returned.

I ignored her because once I changed my clothes, I became invisible in her eyes. When the overseas procedures were finished, the first thing I did was go to the mall and buy new clothes.

For years, just to make Veronica notice me more, my closet had been filled only with white, like a walking mourning hall, but now even a single glance at it made me sick.

The sales clerk eagerly brought out a light blue suit, and just as I was about to swipe my card, a cold voice cut in.

“I want this one too.”

I turned my head and saw Enzo’s arrogant face. He looked me over with contempt.

“Lincoln, what are you still struggling for? Didn’t the airport incident make it clear enough?”

He sneered. “Veronica doesn’t love you. No matter how expensive the clothes you buy, she’ll still treat you like air.”

I didn’t bother wasting words on him. Instead, I took out a black card from my wallet and handed it to the clerk.

“Wrap up this one he touched, and all the pieces from this series, for me. And also, show him out.”

The clerk immediately moved to ask him to leave, but just then Veronica appeared, walking straight toward Enzo without sparing me a single glance.

“Wrap up the clothes and give them to Mr. Lynch.”

The clerk froze and whispered a reminder, “President Vargas, but this gentleman is your…”

I had grown a beard and worn a striking gold-gray perm, so of course, Veronica didn’t recognize me.

“What is he, anyway?” Veronica’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word carried clearly across the counter. “Some nobody from who-knows-where, thinking he can compete with Veronica for anything?”

She turned to the sales clerk, whose face had already gone pale, her tone cold with unquestionable authority.