02- Yes, Keep Searching

Audrey pov

I stood there, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out the world. Harold didn’t look at me. He didn’t say my name. He just… walked past me with her.

My legs felt weak, but before I could crumble completely, Simon stepped into the house.

I found my voice, though it came out as a whisper. “Simon, what is going on?”

He stammered, avoiding my gaze. "M-Mr. Harold... maybe he... he hasn't fully recovered his memory yet."

"Recover his memory? What happened to Harold?"I asked anxiously.

“He was in a car accident two years ago. They said something about amnesia. The doctors are not sure ……if he has regained his memory.”

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. Harold didn’t know who I was. He didn’t remember our life together.

The sound of my heart was deafening as I pushed the door open. Every step I took toward Harold felt like I was walking in a ditch.

I didn’t know what I expected to find, but it wasn’t this.

As I entered the room, I noticed Harold standing by the fireplace.

“Martha,” he called to our housekeeper, “bring some tea for Gina, and make sure she gets something to eat. She’s had a long day.”

I froze. Martha? How easily did he catch the name?

His movements were so natural, so fluid, as if he hadn’t been away for years. His gaze swept over the room with the ease of someone who knew every corner, every detail.

Martha came out with apple juice in glasses, she dropped it on the table.

“Martha, this is the mistress of the house now. She's pregnant so treat her like you would treat me and let the other workers be in the know.”

I could barely stand when I heard those words—she’s pregnant with Harold’s child?

Martha simply nodded and left the room. My eyes narrowed, suspicion growing. How could he know the maid's name, the layout of the house?

Martha simply nodded and left the room. My eyes narrowed, suspicion growing. How could he know the maid's name, the layout of the house, and yet claim to have no memory of me?"

I took a step closer to Harold,my voice low with anger. “Mistress? She's the mistress of the house? What does that mean?”

“Audrey, can you just be quiet?" he warned me impatiently.

“You've regained your memory! So why bring this woman into our home? And you're calling her the mistress of the house—what about me? I'm your wife!" I asked, my voice trembling with accusation.

Gina suddenly burst out, her face reddening with anger. “Wait a minute! You’re saying he’s married?”

I turned to her, my jaw clenching. “Yes, I’m his wife.”

Gina let out a bitter laugh. “Unbelievable! Harold, you never told me you were married! You lied to me!”

She stood up, “And you let me think—” Her voice broke off as she glared at him. “I can’t do this. I’ll get rid of this baby. I don’t need this drama!”

“No!” Harold snapped, standing abruptly. He reached for her arm, his movements jerky.

“Gina, listen to me,” Harold said, his tone strained but steady. “I didn’t lie to you. I’ve been trying to piece everything together since the accident. I didn’t remember Audrey—or much of anything about my past—until recently.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught as I stared at him. “Didn’t remember?” I echoed, my voice trembling.

“Harold, how convenient. You expect me to believe you didn’t remember me, your wife, but somehow you remembered this house, Martha, and... her?”

“Stop twisting things, Audrey,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that. I’ve been trying to figure out who I am, where I belong. But the truth is... I don’t love you anymore. I haven’t for a long time.”

I felt the room spin. “You begged me to marry you, Harold,” I said, my voice breaking.

“You said you couldn’t imagine your life without me! And when you disappeared, I kept this family together. I worked myself to the bone to save your company, to protect your legacy!”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Please, Audrey. Don’t make yourself out to be some martyr. If it weren’t for marrying me, you’d still be living a small, average life. Everything you have is because of me.”

“Because of you?” I repeated, my anger boiling over. “You think this is what I wanted? To cry myself to sleep every night, wondering if you were dead? To sacrifice everything for a man who doesn’t even appreciate it?”

He didn't reply and turned to Gina, “Gina is the perfect person for me, she's an excellent dancer unlike you who's a bitter housewife,”

If I felt the floor spinned under me before, now it was the whole world spinning, a man who I had sacrificed everything for?

“You knew he was married right? Yet you got pregnant for him,” I accused Gina.

She shook her head in defiance, “Point of correction! It is Harold who chased after me, I am a renowned dancer and I don't have interest in stealing people’s husbands.”

Harold scrowled, irritation written all over his face. “Audrey, this is pointless. Let’s just settle this like adults. The divorce papers will arrive soon.”

For a moment, the room was silent. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, tears stinging my eyes.

He was serious. He was going to walk away from everything we’d built together, just like that.

“With all I’ve done for you,” I said quietly, my voice trembling, “you still think I’m replaceable?”

His expression didn’t change. “You’ll be fine, Audrey. You should be grateful. I’ve given you a good life.”

My hands shook as I clenched them at my sides. “If it wasn’t for me saving you, how would my leg have been injured in the first place?”

He shrugged. “You’re not crippled. You’ll get over it.”

I stared at him, trying to reconcile the man before me with the one I’d married. But the love I once knew was gone.

If he wants a divorce. Fine by me. I won't stay in this meaningless marriage anymore.

I turned and walked out of the room without another word.

***

In my bedroom, I pulled out a suitcase and began packing my things. My hands moved, grabbing clothes and tossing them into the bag. I didn’t know where I was going, but I couldn’t stay here.

As I reached for a box on the top shelf of the closet, something fell out—a small medal, tarnished with age. I picked it up, my fingers brushing over the engraved letters.

Audrey Taylor—1st Place, International Dance Competition.

The memory came flooding back. The late nights of practice, the thrill of standing on stage, the roar of the crowd. That was who I used to be—a dancer, a dreamer. Before I became... this.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the medal in my hand. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself, trading my dreams for a life that no longer existed.

A sharp ping from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I picked it up and saw a message from the private investigator I’d hired months ago.

The doctor still hasn’t been found. Do you want to keep searching?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I typed my reply.

Yes. Keep searching.