My Husband Lost His Memories of Our LoveChapter 1
Abigail stood outside the expansive French window, the Christmas cake she had brought clutched tightly in her hands. The warmth of the scene inside contrasted starkly with the biting cold around her. She stared, unmoving, as her heart grew heavier with every passing second.
“Gabriella has endured so much over the past two years, but it’s all in the past now,” Olivia Montgomery said gently, running her fingers through Gabriella’s hair. “My son has always loved you, and that’s what matters. He’s just fulfilling his obligations to Abigail before he can give you the life you deserve.”
Gabriella smiled softly, her tone filled with sweetness. “Don’t worry, Auntie. I know Sebastian loves me. That alone is enough.”
She turned her gaze to Sebastian, her eyes brimming with affection.
Sebastian lowered his head to meet her gaze, his expression tender, his voice steady. “Gabriella, once I’ve repaid what I owe, I will marry you.”
Gabriella’s cheeks flushed. She nodded shyly before stepping forward to embrace him.
Inside the house, the scene was one of pure harmony. The living room glowed warmly under the soft light of a massive Christmas tree, its branches laden with ornaments. Piles of wrapped gifts surrounded its base, completing the picture of festive joy. It was a tableau of love and belonging—a perfect match, as if nothing in the world could disrupt it.
Outside, the bitter wind stung Abigail’s face, but the ache in her chest burned far worse. Her grip on the cake faltered, and it fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.
The pain coursing through her was unbearable, as if a blade had carved through her heart. Every breath felt like a knife twisting deeper. She stood there, a silent, unseen figure—a ghost in the shadows, watching a happiness that was once hers.
Her gaze lingered on Sebastian as he bent down to pick out a gift for Gabriella, his focus entirely on the woman beside him. Abigail’s stomach churned. He’s my husband, she thought bitterly, yet the scene before her denied it.
Unable to watch any longer, she turned and walked away, her footsteps light but unsteady, carrying her farther from the glowing warmth of the house. No one inside noticed her presence—her coming, her leaving, or the broken cake lying in the snow.