I looked up at his face—the striking features I once adored. His sharp brows, high nose bridge and naturally upturned lips.

Everything I used to be so obsessed with, why did it suddenly become so uninteresting?

I didn't know if my voice was still trembling.

I said, "Simon, I will forget you in 23 days."

He smirked. "Here we go again, Claire. The same lie twice—do you think I'll fall for it? If you're sick, go get treatment. Don't threaten me."

After that, he turned and walked away without hesitation, leaving me alone.

His retreating figure overlapped with the memory of the boy I once knew, then slowly drifted apart.

In my memory.

I had once leaned against his chest and asked him, "Simon, I have a strange illness that makes me lose my memories every three years. If I forget you one day, what will you do?"

Simon hugged me tightly and gently kissed the top of my head as if I were a treasure.

"Then I'll stay by your side until you remember me again."

The mountain wind was fierce and cold, howling through the camp.

Because of the show's requirements, I wore a thin evening dress.

I couldn't help but think of the jacket draped over Hannah's shoulders earlier.

I never thought this wind could give me the courage to give up. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and called my best friend.

"Bring me all the journals about Simon. I've decided to forget him."

"Really?"

My best friend, Wendy Yaleman, sounded thrilled on the other end of the call.

She had always advised me to get a divorce.

She said, "The moment you're unhappy, it's a sign this marriage has failed. He hasn't made your relationship public after all these years—does that even count as love?"

Back then, I knew deep down that Simon's actions were disrespectful.

But how did I defend him?

I told myself he was busy and his career came first, but reality slapped me.

In a survival reality show, he worked seamlessly with Hannah, calling her "my cutie pie" every chance he got.

Rumors about them were flying everywhere.

Wendy was right. I was not only a fool but also blind.

But I couldn't keep pretending when the truth stared me in the face. I was genuinely exhausted.

I nodded firmly. "Wendy, I appreciate it. But I want to burn those journals myself."

"No worries, I'll fly right over to your next shooting spot."

Her reply lifted a bit of the heaviness in my heart.

I kicked off my heels and trudged back to camp.