Seven Days to Erase My Ex-Husband

"Drink it, Nat. You won't feel a thing."

That was what my husband said when he finalized our divorce and slipped an experimental amnesia drug into my drink. All to play the devoted groom for his dying childhood sweetheart for seven guilt-free days.

He thought our divorce was temporary. He thought he could give me the antidote next week and pick up exactly where we left off.

What he didn't know was that I engineered that drug.

And the antidote didn't exist.

Natalie

"Drink up, Nat. It's completely tasteless, and it won't hurt at all," Elias said, his voice soft and calm. "Trust me. Even if you forget me for a few days, you're still the only one in my heart."

I stared at the vial in my hand, then swallowed the liquid without a word.

We had just walked out of the courthouse. The divorce was final. Elias checked his watch.

"The drug takes two minutes to kick in. For the next seven days, you won't remember our marriage or any feelings you had for me. Once the week is over, I'll give you the antidote." He smiled, reassuring. "You won't remember a single thing. You won't have to hurt."

"This divorce is just a formality," he added. "We'll remarry the minute it's over."

"Are you sure you won't regret this?" I asked quietly.

Elias chuckled and patted my cheek. "Lydia spent years abroad. Now she's back, and she realized she still loves me. Her only dying wish is a wedding with me. I can't say no to that. I won't regret it."

He adjusted his tie, looking entirely justified. "You're always sensible, Nat. There's no point competing with a dying woman. Once this is over, our lives go back to normal."

My chest tightened, but I kept my mouth shut.

Six years ago, I cut ties with my family to marry him when he had nothing. When his medical career stalled, I used my connections in neuropharmacology to fund his lab. We promised to grow old together. I used to tease him, asking what he'd do if I got Alzheimer's.

He had pulled me into a fierce kiss, whispering, "Don't you dare forget me, Nat. I'd lose my mind."

Now? Lydia showed up with cancer, and he rushed our divorce to give her seven days of pure romance. He fed me an experimental drug just to clear his conscience. If he had the nerve to leave so openly, why even pretend we were getting back together?

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my temple. My knees buckled.

Elias grabbed my arm. "Are you alright?"

I forced myself upright and blinked hard. I looked down at the stamped document clenched in my hand. "Divorce decree? Who got divorced?"

Elias froze. He stared into my eyes, searching my face. "Natalie... we just got divorced. Don't you remember?"

"Divorced?" I stared back blankly.

His shoulders dropped in visible relief. The drug was working. It targeted the most recent emotional shock first.

Before I could read the names on the paper, Elias snatched it away. "Hey, it's okay," he coaxed, his tone shifting. "It's me, Elias. Your best friend. You've been sick lately and your memory is foggy. I'll hold onto these."

I looked at his shifting eyes and stayed silent. If he wanted to act, I'd play my part.

"Elias! There you are!"

Lydia ran toward us in a floral sundress. Her heel caught on the curb. She pitched forward.

Elias shoved me aside and lunged to catch her.

The push sent me slamming back into the brick wall. A sickening ache flared in my skull.

Lydia fell right into Elias's chest, wrapping her arms around his neck with a smirk. "Thank God you caught me, Elias."

He quickly stepped back, his eyes darting to me in panic. "Nat, are you okay? Lydia's sick. If she bleeds, it won't stop. I had to grab her first. I'm sorry."

I brushed the dirt off my coat, stood tall, and looked right at him. "I'm fine."

Lydia grabbed his arm again, pressing against him. "Elias, it was just a quick divorce. What took so long? I've been waiting forever."

Elias cleared his throat and looked away, but he didn't pull his arm out of her grip.

"Well, it's done," Lydia said, tilting her chin at me. "Now we can focus on our wedding. Natalie, the three of us grew up together. Elias and I are getting married in seven days. You have to come."

I gave her a flat look. "Sure. I wouldn't miss my best friend's wedding."

Her smile widened. "Great! You can take our photo when we kiss at the altar—"

"Lydia, stop," Elias cut in, his jaw tight.

He searched my face for jealousy or anger. He found nothing. My blank stare unnerved him.

"She doesn't need to come," he muttered.

I didn't react.

Lydia frowned, clearly annoyed that he defended me. She suddenly went limp against his chest, clutching her ribs. "Elias... my chest hurts. I can't breathe."

Elias went pale. He immediately wrapped both arms around her. "Is it acting up again? Hang on. I'm taking you to the ER."

He threw a hurried look at me. "Nat, do you know the way home? Need a cab?"

I shook my head. "No. I remember."

He let out a breath and relaxed. The drug only erased memories tied to the subject's deepest love; basic memory stayed intact. Convinced he was the only thing I was forgetting, he nodded.

"Good. Go rest. I have to get her to the hospital."

He walked Lydia to his car, supporting her waist.

Through the window, I watched him lean over to buckle her seatbelt. Lydia wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed his ear.

My chest felt completely numb. Betrayal laid bare.

The car pulled out and drove away.

Just as it turned the corner, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

"Dr. Hall," an excited voice said on the line. "The New York Research Institute is ready for you. Your onboarding ceremony is scheduled seven days from now. We look forward to your return."