Chapter 2

The first dose of M-7 went down with a glass of water the next morning.

Ethan watched me, a strange mix of relief and something I couldn't name in his eyes. Maybe guilt.

"It'll kick in soon?" he asked, a little too eagerly.

"Within the hour," I said, my voice already feeling distant to my own ears.

The edges of my awareness were starting to blur, like a watercolor painting left in the rain.

His face, the lines around his eyes when he smiled, the way he used to hum off-key in the shower – these details were becoming fuzzy.

He took the divorce papers from the counter where I'd left them.

"I'll keep these safe for you, Evie," he said, his voice gentle, solicitous.

I frowned, a flicker of confusion. "Safe from what?"

"You just had a bit of a medical episode, remember?" he said smoothly. "Sudden memory loss. I'm your close friend, Ethan. Just looking after you for a few days while you recover."

Close friend.

The words echoed strangely.

A part of me, the part that was still Dr. Evelyn Hayes, the neuroscientist, observed the drug's efficacy with cold precision.

The other part, the fading wife, felt a dull ache.

He helped me to the guest room. "You should rest."

My own bedroom, our bedroom, was apparently off-limits.

Later, the doorbell rang.

Ethan' s voice, then a woman' s, light and musical, but with an undertone that scraped at something deep inside me.

Chloe.

She appeared in the guest room doorway, leaning against Ethan, who looked uncomfortable.

She was beautiful, in a fragile, almost translucent way. The dying swan.

"Oh, this must be your friend, Evie," Chloe said, her eyes sweeping over me with a condescending pity. "Ethan told me you weren't feeling well. Poor thing."

I tried to place her. The name was unfamiliar.

"Ethan is such a dear, taking care of you like this," she cooed, tightening her arm around his.

He shifted, avoiding my gaze.

"We're getting married, you know," Chloe announced, her smile a little too bright. "This weekend. A small affair. You should come, Evie. If you're feeling up to it."

She paused, then added, as if a brilliant idea had struck her, "You could even be our photographer! Capture our special moments."

Ethan looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

I just felt... blank. A vast, empty space where strong emotions used to be.

Photographer. For his wedding. To her.

The concept was so absurd, it barely registered.

My memory of him was a flickering candle, about to be snuffed out.