When Memories Came Back, I Stopped Loving You

Summary

After the miscarriage, my husband, a psychiatrist, erased my memory.

He did it so he could take his patient, a young woman suffering from "depression," on a therapeutic retreat.

For the next three months, he and our son traveled with her, living a carefree life.

When they had their fill of fun, he finally deigned to restore my memories.

I was a wife and mother again.

Except now, I didn't care. I wasn't a bother.

They thought I was sulking, playing hard to get, trying to make a point. They didn't pay it much mind.

Not until they saw the post I made online.