Chapter 3

Day twelve since the medication took effect. 

The memory extraction has entered its deepest phase. I realized I've started forgetting the little details about Arthur—how many sugar cubes he takes in his coffee, his subconscious ticks when he's mad, even the exact contours of his face are blurring in my mind.

In stark contrast, my scientific mind, stagnant for three years, is rebooting at a staggering pace. The Geneva team sent over the core data, and I now spend my days in the guest room running high-intensity model simulations. Every cell in my body feels fulfilled.

This afternoon, my best friend Sarah called, asking me to pick up an important legal document near St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. 

Pushing open the heavy oak doors, the melodious sound of a pipe organ echoed beneath the cavernous vaulted ceiling. I only meant to cut through the cathedral as a shortcut, but near the high altar, I spotted two familiar figures.

Arthur in a formal tuxedo, Chloe in a trailing wedding gown. They were doing a wedding rehearsal.

"Chloe, from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were my soulmate. I am willing to spend my entire life, even give my life, to protect you, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer..." 

Arthur’s utterly devoted voice echoed through the cathedral.

I stood in the shadows, listening quietly. These vows—word for word, even the pacing of his pauses—were exactly the same as what he said to me five years ago on a beach in Long Island. 

Back then, to brew his stomach medicine, I’d stay up all night in the kitchen; to play the perfect wife at his hypocritical galas, I gave up the lab I loved. I used to think those vows were a confession from the depths of his soul. Now I see they’re just a copy-and-paste PR script.

"Why did you stop? Breaks your heart, doesn't it?" A hushed voice suddenly came from beside me. I turned to see Arthur's assistant, Mark, standing there out of nowhere. His eyes held a mix of pity and disdain. 

I ignored him, just looking at Arthur at the altar, suddenly finding it all quite hilarious.

Just then, Chloe noticed me. She hiked up her trailing gown and walked down the aisle, clinging tightly to Arthur's arm.

"Evelyn? Did you actually follow us here?" Chloe gasped, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. She leaned into Arthur, a smug glint hiding behind her innocent eyes. "I know it’s hard for you to let go, but Arthur and I are getting married. You really shouldn't torture yourself by watching our rehearsal."

Arthur placed a protective hand over Chloe’s, looking at me with a mix of exasperation and condescending pity. "Evelyn, this is exactly why we're over. You're always so obsessive. Chloe is sick, and she needs peace. Just stop embarrassing yourself and leave."

I looked at the two of them, feeling absolutely nothing. In fact, observing them felt like looking at a petri dish of particularly obnoxious bacteria.

"Follow you?" I let out a dry, dismissive chuckle, my gaze sweeping over them. "Don't flatter yourselves. I'm just passing through."

I paused, shifting my eyes to Chloe. "By the way, congratulations on the wedding. But just a heads-up—the vows he just recited to you? He used the exact same script on me five years ago in Long Island. Word for word."

Chloe's fake, sweet smile instantly froze.

Arthur's pupils shrank. He stared at me dead in the eye as if trying to see through my soul. "Evelyn, do you have to speak to me with that passive-aggressive tone? I know you're upset. The meds haven't fully kicked in yet. I get that you're jealous, but there's no need to..."

I ruthlessly cut off his narcissistic pity party. "I have places to be. Move."

"Evelyn!" He suddenly raised his voice, causing Chloe in the distance to keep looking back. He lowered his voice again, speaking through gritted teeth, "What kind of game are you playing? You were never like this! You used to lose sleep if I came home even ten minutes late!"

"Yeah, used to." I looked at him, a mocking smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "I really was blind back then. But now? Now I just find you obnoxious."

I brushed past his rigid body and walked out of the cathedral without looking back. Sunlight spilled onto Fifth Avenue. I took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air of New York, feeling like all the toxic sludge in my lungs had been swept clean. 

Belated affection is cheaper than dirt, and his self-righteous pity is worse than garbage.

At a corner café, I met up with Sarah. She slid a manila envelope across the table to me, her eyes gleaming like a predator's. "Nailed it. Chloe's actual medical records from that private hospital in Houston. Terminal bone cancer, my ass. She just had a minimally invasive surgery to remove a benign cyst. That two-faced bitch played Arthur, that arrogant fool, like a damn fiddle."

I pulled out a few pages, skimmed them to verify the data, and then pushed the envelope back to Sarah. "Keep it safe, Sarah. Wait until they officially take their vows at the cathedral next week, then give it to them as a little wedding gift."

"Are you really not going to expose her yourself?" Sarah looked at me, her eyes full of heartache and confusion.

"No." I picked up my black coffee and took a calm sip. "Next Wednesday, the day they say their vows, is my flight to Zurich. I don't have time to sort the trash."