Juliet Sutton has always been hopelessly devoted.

But the day her first love is diagnosed with cancer, she hands me a pill that can make someone forget. She says, "Matthew, Wilson doesn't have much time left. Give me three days. Let me give him the wedding he always dreamed of.

"I won't break your heart. This pill only causes temporary memory loss. Once the ceremony is over, you take the antidote, fall in love with me again, and then we'll remarry."

Seeing the resolve in her eyes, I take the pill and swallow it without hesitation.

What Juliet doesn't know is that I'm the one who developed the pill. There is no antidote.

In three days, I'll forget her completely.

After Juliet Sutton and I signed the divorce papers and walked out of the courthouse, she checked the time.

"In two minutes, the pill will kick in. For the next three days, you'll forget every memory of loving me. Once you take the antidote, you won't remember anything that happens during these days, so you won't have to feel any pain.

"This divorce is only temporary. When everything is over, we'll get married again. Don't worry. My real husband is only you."

I stared at her in silence, knowing full well we would never have the chance to remarry.

As the one who developed the drug, I understood exactly how it worked. It didn't wipe memories instantly. It would erase them little by little until the person forgot the one they loved completely.

And the antidote didn't exist.

But Juliet clearly didn't know that.

I asked softly, "Are you sure you won't regret this?"

She smiled and gently cupped my face.

"Wilson has loved me for so many years. His only wish is to have a wedding with me. I can't refuse him. Since I agreed, I won't regret it.

"Matthew, you're always considerate and gentle. There's no need to fight with someone who's dying. When all of this is over, we'll go back to our happy life."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips as the ache in my chest spread through my whole body. I said nothing more.

In the year we loved each other the most, I drank myself sick fighting for her project until my stomach bled, and she stayed up night after night fighting for my research until her heartbeat went irregular.

I once teased her and asked, "If I grow old and forget you someday, what then?"

Her eyes turned red instantly, and she kissed me hard. She said, "Matthew, I love you. Don't ever forget me. I would lose my mind."

Now, after hearing that her first love, Wilson Huxley, had cancer, she divorced me without hesitation and asked me to take a pill that would erase everything between us.

I figured she wanted to give him three perfect days of love—no guilt, no flaws, and no husband in the way. She just wanted to give herself completely to Wilson.

If she had the nerve to fall for someone else and drug me on top of it, why bother talking about getting back together at all?

I let out a hollow laugh, mocking myself.

Then suddenly, pain stabbed through my skull. My vision blurred, and my body pitched forward.

Juliet darted forward and caught me. Her bright eyes were filled with raw, unmistakable worry.

"Where does it hurt? If you're scared I won't come back, I can give you the divorce papers and every document to keep."

I forced myself upright, blinking at her in confusion. "What divorce papers?"

Juliet froze, then carefully tested me. "Matthew, you're divorced. Do you remember?"

"Divorced?"

A flicker of joy crossed her eyes when she saw my blank expression.

I lowered my head and saw the divorce certificate clenched in my hand. At that moment, I understood.

The pill was starting to work. The first thing it erased was the memory of divorcing her.

Juliet snatched the certificate from my hand, as if afraid I would see her photo on it. Her voice softened as she said, "Matthew, I'm your sister. You're sick, and you've lost some memories. I'll hold on to these important documents for you."

I lifted my eyes and met her evasive gaze. I didn't expose her lie.

"Fine. If she wants to act, I'll act with her," I thought.

Just then, a low voice cut in, "Juliet, so this is where you are."

I turned toward the sound and saw Wilson jogging over. He tripped on a loose stone and lurched forward.

Juliet instinctively let go of me and grabbed him.

Her sudden shove sent me stumbling into the wall. My head was already prickling with pain, and the impact made it spike sharply.

Wilson held onto her hand and slid an arm around her waist, smiling triumphantly. "Thanks for catching me."

Realizing what she had done, Juliet immediately pulled her hand back and looked at me anxiously.

"Matthew, are you hurt? Wilson's sick. If he bleeds from a fall, it might not stop, so I have to help him first. I'm sorry."

I straightened up, swallowed the pain, and brushed the dust off my clothes. "It's fine."

Wilson leaned even closer and clutched her arm. He whispered, "Juliet, it's just a divorce. Why were you taking so long? I waited forever."

Catching me staring straight at them, Juliet cleared her throat awkwardly. Guilt flickered across her face, but she still didn't pull her hand away from his.

"It's all done. We can focus on the wedding now," she replied.

Wilson's face lit up, and he shot me a smug glance. "Matthew, I've been with Juliet for five years. We're getting married in three days. You have to come."

I smiled. "Juliet's wedding? Of course I'll be there."

Wilson's grin widened. "Great. You can film the whole thing for us then. Be sure to capture the moment Juliet and I kiss at the altar…"

"Wilson." Juliet's expression darkened as she cut him off, signaling him to stop talking. She looked straight at me, searching my eyes for any hint of pain and finding none. For some reason, that made her chest tighten. "He doesn't need to be at our wedding."

My expression didn't change.

Seeing her defending me, Wilson frowned and buried his face against her neck, weak and pitiful. "Juliet, my heart hurts again. I can't breathe."

Her eyes filled with panic, and she held him tighter.

"Is it acting up again? Hang on a little longer. I'll take you to the hospital right now."

She looked at me over her shoulder and asked, "Matthew, do you still remember where home is? Do you need me to send someone with you?"

I shook my head and replied, "No. I remember."

Juliet didn't answer right away. The staff had already told her the drug would only erase memories of the one the patient loved most and nothing else.

The moment she remembered that the person I loved most was her, the tension eased from her brows.

"Alright. Go home and rest. I'll take Wilson to the hospital."

With that, she helped Wilson into the car.

Wilson kept his arm draped over her shoulder as he spoke in a weak, breathless voice, "Juliet, I don't mind dropping dead right now since I get to hold you like this, out in the open."

"Stop talking nonsense," she chastised softly.

Through the window, I saw her leaning in to buckle Wilson's seatbelt. Wilson suddenly wrapped an arm around her neck and pressed a kiss to her earlobe.

The intimate scene sent a cold, sharp ache cutting through my chest.

It was the sharp sting of betrayal.

Just as Juliet's car pulled away, my phone began to ring.

"Mr. Smith, Tosperus Institute has finalized your induction ceremony. We look forward to welcoming you in three days," the other party said.

After the call, I headed home, only to realize how empty the place had become. It felt like a hollow shell.

This was the home Juliet and I designed together. Back then, she told me she wanted to live in this warm little place with me for the rest of her life.

But now, every coffee set we picked out and every decoration we chose together was gone. She had taken away anything that had even the slightest connection to her.

She must have been terrified I would remember our past. Even the flowers we grew on the balcony together had been dug out.

Looking at the empty house, I let out a soft, bitter laugh.

"Juliet, you really planned this thoroughly. Are you afraid I'll remember and get hurt? Or are you afraid that if I remember everything, I'll ruin the wedding you're about to hold with Wilson?

"If you knew there was no antidote and that I would never regain those memories, would you still think this was worth it?" I thought.

I took off my wedding ring, wrote her a letter, tucked both into an envelope, and slid it into the gap behind the flowerpots.

Right then, my phone rang.

My friend, Ethan Cooke, hesitated for a long moment before speaking. "Matthew, I have to tell you something. I think Juliet is cheating. I just saw her at the hospital door, hugging some guy."

I murmured, "It's fine. Let her do whatever she wants."

He froze for a moment at my reaction. "Matthew, are you okay?"

His panic made me laugh. "What could possibly be wrong? Juliet and I are already divorced."

"Divorced?"

I explained everything briefly. When he heard I had actually taken the drug, he exploded.

"Those two are disgusting! Absolutely shameless! Juliet did all that just so she could marry him? She really cooked up every dirty trick she could think of!

"You gave up going to Tosperus Institute to stay by her side. Half of her achievements are built on you. And now she forces you into a divorce and feeds you a memory-erasure pill so she can have a spotless, guilt-free wedding with another man? Who the hell does she think she is?"

A sharp pain crept up inside me, and my face drained of color.

Five years ago, when Juliet was at her lowest, I married her without hesitation. I burned every one of my contacts to pull her company back from the grave. Back then, every night, she held me close and whispered that I was her forever lover.

But things changed. The person she kept in her heart changed.

Bit by bit, she forgot everything I had done for her. She expected me to stay gentle, forgiving, and even excuse the sympathy she couldn't help giving Wilson.

Was it really that hard to only love one person consistently? Why was I the only one who could?

Ethan eventually ran out of curses and summarized it all with one final verdict, "She's going to regret this deeply. She definitely doesn't know you never made the antidote. Let her suffer. You can finally move on."

My gaze drifted to the gap behind the flowerpots, where the letter sat.

After so many years with Juliet, I knew her habits better than she did. Whenever she was upset, she would drink on the balcony. If she regretted it after I left, she would find the letter.

Later that night, Juliet walked into the house and started tearing through drawers.

"What are you doing?" I asked.