Bad news: My husband has face blindness. Worse news: He only has face blindness when ites to ME.
New haircut? “Sorry, miss, wrong house.” Different dress? “Are you the new housekeeper?”
So for three fucking years, I kept the same clothes, same hair, same perfume-just so he’d recognize me.
But in the end? Nothing fucking worked.
Until I flew to Paris for his birthday. Watched him cut through a packed airport terminal, straight to one girl. No hesitation. Perfect aim.
urns out his face blindness was just because I wasn’t the one he loved.
Vell then…
Time to make myself IMPOSSIBLE to forget!
barely had time to turn around before foreign cops surrounded me.
hey thought I was some wanted criminal, and my broken French only made their expressions grow harder, more suspicious.
Without warning, they mmed me to the ground, a knee pressed firmly into my back.
1 the chaos, I looked desperately toward Alex.
Alex! Help me! They’ve got the wrong person!” I screamed until my throat was raw.
le looked over, his eyes sweeping across my face for a brief moment.
hen he simply looked away, as if I were aplete stranger.
I don’t know her.”
hose four words, were the coldest I’d ever heard in my life.
a the next fifteen days, I spent a whole three hundred and sixty hours in windowless interrogation rooms and freezing cells.
Intil a DNA report finally cleared my name.
When I walked out of that police station, it wasn’t Alex waiting for me-it was his assistant.
David adjusted his sses, voice full of me.
Miss Grace, what the hell were you thinking? Do you know Mr. Carter waited at the airport for two hours?”
At that moment, whatever warmth I had left for him died in that cold foreign wind.
The moment I stepped off the ne back home, cameras and microphones swarmed me from every direction. Apparently, my arrest had be front-page gossip.
I finally fought my way through the chaos and got home, only to have Alex’s first words be pure me.
But Alex’s first words weren’t “Are you okay?” or “I’m sorry.”
“How many times have I told you to wear the white coat when you’re out? Why don’t you listen?”
He frowned like I was some disobedient child. “You know I have face blindness. I can’t tell women apart.”
Hearing this, my hands clenched into fists.
He flipped another page in his file, not even looking up.
“PR drafted a statement. Press conference tomorrow.”
“You’ll apologize to the public and clear this up.”
Apologize?
For what? For his coldness? Or for his so-called “face blindness”?
I stared at his indifferent face.
‘At the airport. That girl you hugged-who was she?” <fn19e8> Follow current nov?ls on find~novel</fn19e8>
His hand froze mid-page. For once, he looked rigid.
After a few seconds, he said: “There were too many people. I thought it was you.”
almostughed.
hat girl wore a zing scarlet dress and had big curly waves-hair I’d NEVER worn in my life.
nd I? I don’t even own anything red.
Alex, I called your name that day.”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
So?” He barely nced up. “You want me to apologize for having a medical condition?”
Grace, you knew about this before we got married.”
ooking at his nk expression, I felt utterly drained.
le was right. This was all on me.
Fine. I’ll do the press conference.”
turned to leave, but then noticed Alex’s attention had shifted. His gaze drifted toward my bag, where an airline magazine was poking out the top.
followed his gaze and saw the open page-a group photo of some symphony orchestra.
Dozens of people crammed together, and in the most forgettable corner sat a girl with a cello.
The same girl he’d hugged at the airport.
The photo was so blurry you could barely make out faces.
But Alex spotted her. In just one nce.
It turned out… he doesn’t have face blindness.
He just can’t see people he doesn’t love!
My chest felt crushed. Every breath hurt.
But I still managed to smile as I pulled out the magazine and shoved it into his hands.
“Here. Take it. I don’t want it anymore.”
This whole Mrs. Carter thing.
Those three wasted years.
I’m done with all of it!