The Memories I Erased Chapter 14
she and I are mortal enemies. I’m just asking about her so I can see if I can add fuel to the fire.”
I contacted my lawyer immediately, pressing heavy charges against Phoebe.
With irrefutable evidence stacked against her, she was sentenced to five years in prison.
During her time behind bars, her mismanaged company collapsed. Every last bit of its assets was liquidated at court auctions, leaving her with absolutely nothing to her name.
After resting and recovering for a while, I threw myself entirely into research work alongside Macy.
Daily life became simple, vibrant, and deeply fulfilling. We spent long days and late nights hunched over desks side by side, completely in our element.
We traveled to every corner of the country, gathering materials, conducting field studies on ancient structures, and publishing research papers. Hand in hand, we traced historical blueprints, drew detailed architectural models, and poured our hearts into conservation efforts.
Four years later, as our major project reached a successful conclusion, I proposed to her. Later, I threw her a grand, breathtaking wedding, proudly announcing my love for her to the entire city.
Friends and family flooded us with endless congratulations, surrounding the event with sheer joy and celebration.
Someone even uploaded the video of my wedding vows to Macy online, captioning it: [The least-known power couple of the architecture world ties the knot today.]
The post quickly drew comments from people in the know.
[How are they ‘least known’? The ‘Workaholic Couple’ tag has been trending for ages. Who else does field research on New Year’s Eve?!]
[Wait, didn’t those two get married years ago?]
[Stupid question, but isn’t the groom the same guy who erased his memories for love four years ago?]
A small storm of discussion brewed online, with half the comments offering warm congratulations and the other half sighing over the past.
Macy and I paid no attention to the online noise, keeping our focus entirely on our architectural research.
Five years later, I suddenly received a package containing a damaged, blood-stained hard drive.
Only after asking around did I learn that Phoebe had mailed it to me right after her release from prison.
David had been released earlier than her. Down on his luck and living an aimless, wretched life for two years, he had spiraled into a severe gambling addiction.
Three months ago, Phoebe finished her five-year sentence. Because of her past public scandal, she could only land menial work running small market stalls.
Timing her release, David tracked her down and used sweet, deceptive words to trick her into marriage, promising they would start a business together.
However, after getting married, he exploited her ruthlessly, forcing her to go out and earn money while using
every cent she brought home to gamble. Whenever Phoebe mentioned getting a divorce, he beat her black and blue until she didn’t dare speak of it again.
Later, Phoebe managed to secretly save a bit of money to have my smashed hard drive repaired. When David caught her doing it, he beat her so severely that she couldn’t move.
On his way out, David forgot to turn off the gas stove.
Unable to crawl to safety, Phoebe inhaled excessive amounts of carbon monoxide. By the time the fire department rushed to the burning rental apartment, she had already breathed her last.
David was dead drunk when the police tracked him down, having just been thrown out onto the street by a bar
owner.
He refused to believe the news of Phoebe’s death, insisting it was all a lie. But the moment he was brought to identify her body, he suffered a total mental breakdown.
Hearing the news, Macy and I could only sigh at the tragedy of it all.
No one ever knows when an unexpected twist of fate might strike. All we can do is cherish the life in front of us and walk our own path.
Macy and I were already on our way, marching forward together through every storm. Our love was for each other and our passion for architecture.
From this day forward, we press on without looking back, walking straight toward the light.
