After the hospital, I didn't hear from Desmond again.
But his party boy life? All over social.
Every night he was out—bars, karaoke, always surrounded by girls who looked like they lived for attention. Young, loud, full of energy. I figured this was the life he actually wanted.
I was halfway through packing when he showed up at the door—with some girl latched onto his arm.
He stalled, dropped his hand from her waist, then slapped it right back like nothing happened. Oh right, the amnesia.
"I believe this is my house. Without my permission, Ms. Wayne, wouldn't this count as trespassing?"
My fingers clenched the suitcase handle. Technically, yeah—it was his place. Supposed to be our home.
And now he's just gonna waltz in with a new girl like this is his hookup pad?
I bit my tongue.
"But since you claim to have been my fiancée," he smirked, "I'll let it slide this time. Just don't come in without asking next time."
I looked him dead in the eye. "Understood. Won't happen again. Thanks."
And it wouldn't. I was done with this place—and with him.
As I turned to leave, suitcase in hand, the girl piped up. "Desmond, who knows what she's hiding in there? We should check."
He'd just told me to go, but now he flipped like a switch.
He spun around, grabbing at my suitcase.
"Right! Totally forgot. Good call, babe. Who knows what this broke chick's trying to steal?"
He tugged at it like he was about to dump it out.
I held tight. "It's mine. You can't touch it."
Desmond snapped, "You're leaving my house. You could've swiped something."
A chill hit.
That's all I was to him now—a thief.
He tore it from my hands. I fought, but it was useless.
Clothes spilled everywhere.
I let go.
"Go ahead. Nothing in there's yours."
Juliet Kemp giggled behind her hand. "Seriously? You actually wore this outdated mess? Total bumpkin vibes."
Desmond laughed. "Well yeah. She's just some nobody from the sticks. Not like you, babe—you've got real taste."
They kept going, shredding me with every word.
That suitcase was the last straw.
"Since none of it's yours, I'll handle it."
I grabbed a few old pieces, then tossed the rest in the trash.
Desmond's smile cracked.
He recognized the stuff—he'd bought most of it.
Even the white wedding dress. The one I picked for our big day.
"You're throwing it all away? Even the dress?"
I shot him a look. Cold.
Then dropped a lighter in the trash.
The flames jumped fast.
"Don't need it. Never will."
I waited until it burned out—then walked.
Under the weak light, Desmond's face was unreadable.
Just as I hit the corner, he rushed up and grabbed my wrist.
"Even if I forgot you, you shouldn't give up on yourself. What if I remember someday?"
I let out a short, bitter laugh.
Didn't say a word.
Pulled my hand free and kept walking.
For once, I was actually glad he faked the whole amnesia thing before the wedding.
If he'd done this after we were married?
Yeah... the damage would've been way worse.
