When my husband chose to marry his first love, I forgot him.

I took care of my husband in a vegetative state for three years.

On the day he woke up, he publicly identified my cousin as the one who had saved his life.

I thought he had simply mistaken her for someone else.

Then I heard him say, “I could never marry a mute. Someone who can’t even explain herself has no right to stand beside me.”

In that moment, I understood—

to him, I had only ever been a temporary substitute.

So I signed the divorce papers on the spot and turned around to schedule memory-erasure surgery,

removing him from my life before he could do it to me first.

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