I Don’t Love You, I Don’t Remember You, I Don’t Need You

I tried to kill myself forty-nine times in six years.

On the fortieth–ninth attempt, I woke up in a hospital bed with no memories at all. The doctor said I had dissociative amnesia. My mind erased everything… my past, my name, even my family.

Then my parents walked in.

“Oh great, you’re awake again,” my mother said coldly. “Aurora, how long are you going to keep pretending? Do you think suicide will make Manuel come back to you?”

I didn’t even know who Manuel was.

My father scoffed. “Forty-nine attempts and he’s never visited you once. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

From their insults, I slowly pieced together the truth. I had a husband, Manuel Davenport. A powerful CEO.

But he loved my adopted sister, Amber.

Later that day, I finally saw him. He rushed into the hospital carrying Amber in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

When he noticed me, his eyes were ice.

“You have Rh-negative blood, right?” he asked. “Amber needs it.”

Before I could answer, he kissed me once and said flatly, “Is that enough? Now donate.”

So I did.

Then I texted a lawyer.

“I want a divorce… and I want to cut ties with my parents.”

And just like that, I decided to disappear.