Even Love Forgot My Name

Clinging to the last fragments of my memory, I summoned the system.

"Take me away," I whispered. "I'm tired."

A cold mechanical voice answered in my head, "Five days from now, I'll come for you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the presence had already slipped away.

Silence pressed in, and a bitter laugh escaped me. "Okay."

Once, I believed marrying Theodore Calloway meant forever. I believed we would grow old together, side by side.

But in just six years, everything had quietly fallen apart.

Polly Bennett, the housekeeper, called out from the front hallway, "Mr. Calloway, you're home."

Theodore stepped inside. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his handsome face damp with rain. His usually immaculate suit clung to him now, rumpled and soaked, making him look unexpectedly vulnerable.

"Amanda," he said, his voice soft with complaint, "the rain was coming down so hard. I waited for you outside the publishing house for ages. Why didn't you come get me?"

Raindrops clung stubbornly to his lashes as he gazed at me, wounded and expectant.

I watched a single drop fall, bursting apart as it struck the floor. Lowering my gaze, I murmured, "I forgot."

For six years, I never failed him.

Whenever it rained, I came for him, remembering he once said his favorite thing was walking in the rain with me.

No matter what, I always showed up—until today.

Yet forgetting to pick him up was just a small slip.

The truth was, I had forgotten things far more important.

The system warned me from the beginning: the second male lead would always remain in that position. Regardless of how much he loved me, his heart would never fully belong to an outsider forever.

I hadn't believed it.

I was so certain Theodore would love me for life that I made a bet with the system.

If he stopped loving me, all our memories would vanish, and I would gradually sense my life slipping away, forced to stay conscious as I moved step by step toward my own demise.

Lately, my memories had begun unraveling faster.

The things that mattered most were blurring at the edges.

Still, I pretended, convincing myself none of it was real.

Theodore took my hand, his face filled with both frustration and concern.

"Are you still upset because I took care of Ruby that day while you were sick?" he asked. "Since when are you this petty, Amanda? You wouldn't even bring me an umbrella?"

I was quiet for a moment before answering, "I really did forget. My memories are being taken—"

"Enough," Theodore cut in, frowning with clear irritation. "Amanda, are you seriously using that story again? The system, leaving, disappearing—I understand you're upset, but you've used that excuse too many times."

The words died on my tongue.

I stared at him, hollow and numb. 'He never believes me. Not even once.'

I turned away and let silence answer for me.

Once, I would have explained everything, fighting to make him understand.

But now?

Only five days remained.

Whether he believed me or not no longer mattered.