Back home, the silence pressed down on me, heavier than before. I needed answers. My mind wouldn't stop replaying his face, his words, those certificates. So I did what anyone would do. I opened my old social media accounts.
I had so many of them, scattered across the years. Fassein was the one I used the most, ever since it became the world's biggest platform back in 2012. I had lived so much of my life there, memories, friendships, fragments of myself.
But when I logged in… there was nothing.
No pictures. No messages. Not even a trace of people I had blocked or unfriended. My accounts were barren, as if I had never existed online. I opened another one. Then another. Nothing. One by one, I searched through every email, every drive, every storage account I could remember. All of them were empty. Clean slates.
It was as if I had gone through my entire life and erased myself.
But why?
Just as despair began to sink in, something caught my eye. Buried in my mother's posts was a photo, not of me, but of my mother's class, batch Academic Year 2023–2024. They were by a pool, smiling, relaxed. And then… I saw him.
My breath hitched.
A younger version of the man who had called me his wife.
My heart pounded as I zoomed in, staring at his face, that same unmistakable smile.
Hands trembling, I checked the tags. His name appeared clearly. I hesitated, then clicked.
And what I saw made my stomach lurch.
We were friends...
On Fassein.
My pulse raced as I scrolled through his profile, and then I froze.
A picture.
Not of him alone.
Of us...
A group photo.
Smiling.
Standing close.
As if we belonged there, side by side.
But I couldn't remember anyone in that picture. Not the setting. Not the faces. Not even him... at least, not in the context of a memory I could claim as my own.
I clenched my fists, staring at the date beneath the post.
Before December 2025.
The month my memories had gone dark.
The month my mind had chosen to forget.
So what had really happened back then?
And why had I erased everything... even him... from my life?
When I scrolled through his profile, there were only a handful of posts. Mostly memes, tags from his family, and songs. But not just any songs... my favorite songs. My chest tightened. Was that just a coincidence? Or was it another piece of a puzzle my mind refused to solve?
I scrolled further down to 2025, and my heart lurched. There were no names. No direct mentions. Just vague captions, lyrics, and photos blurred of faces. Yet each one felt like a whisper tugging at my heart, like déjà vu.
My skin prickled. I didn't know why I was reacting this way, but something deep inside me knew. Something had happened. Something I had chosen... no, needed... to forget.
I didn't want to ask my mom. She'd only look at me with that careful, worried expression she always used when she tiptoed around my past.
So I began deleting my accounts one by one.
The one I was using now had been created back in 2023, but the posts from 2025 onwards were all about me. Me, smiling, me in places I half-recognized, me with captions I didn't understand. It was like looking at a stranger wearing my face.
I shut the laptop, heart hammering. Something hurtful must have happened. And somehow, he was involved.
A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the time, already evening. How had the day slipped by so quickly?
Had I forgotten to lock the gate again?
I went out of my room and opened the door. And there he was.
"Why are you here?" I blurted out, surprised at my own sharpness.
"I wanted to know you're home safe," he said softly.
"What makes you think I'm not safe here?"
"I saw your ex at the main road."
I stiffened. "His family has a house in District 4."
"But I saw him here. In District 1."
I hesitated, then stepped aside. "Come in. Let's talk inside."
He entered quietly, his presence filling the space without crowding it. I offered some snacks, more out of habit than anything.
It was only as we sat there, the air between us quiet but not heavy, that I realized how calm I felt. Despite thinking of him as a stranger, there was no discomfort. No tension. Only a sense of safety I couldn't explain.
"Where do you live?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Next door," he said with a straight face.
My eyes widened. "What?"
He chuckled softly. "Kidding. I live close by, Phase 1."
My house was in Phase 2, only a few blocks away from Phase 1. Still close enough that our paths could cross without me knowing.
For a moment, we just looked at each other. His gaze wasn't invasive. It was steady. Like someone watching a fragile thing they didn't want to break.
"Why… why are you really here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Because, Boss… you used to trust me more than anyone."
The word Boss again. My chest tightened. My pulse roared in my ears.
And for the first time, I didn't know if I wanted the truth... or if I was terrified of what I'd remember once it came.
"I can't force you to remember what you can't," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on mine. "But I want to start again. I want to ask for a chance to be with you again."
My throat tightened.
"What do you mean by again?" My voice trembled. "Have we… been together before?"
He only smiled, a faint curve of his lips, as if my question hurt and soothed him at the same time. He stood, closing the small space between us. I had no habit of stepping back, of evading, so I stayed where I was, frozen, my heart thudding painfully as if bracing for impact.
"I will take good care of you this time, Boss…" he murmured. His voice was low, almost a vow.
He opened his mouth to say more, something hovering on the edge of a confession, but before the words could escape, the sharp chime of the gate's doorbell cut through the room.
We both turned toward the sound.
I swallowed hard, the noise of the bell echoing too loud in the silence of the house. "Who… who could that be?"
He straightened, a flicker of tension crossing his face.
"Stay here," he said softly.
But I didn't move. My feet felt rooted to the floor, my palms clammy.
The bell rang again, sharper this time.
And for a moment, it felt like the whole world outside that door was waiting for me to open it, waiting to drag the memories I'd buried back into the light.