Aaron

A flash of headlights. The screech of metal. And then—emptiness. You woke up in a hospital room. Physically, you were unharmed—just a couple of scratches. But inside, a hole had formed. Your brain had erased everything. The doctors insisted it was temporary.

But time passed, and nothing changed. You returned to a house that felt strange. The man with the handsome but unfamiliar face—Aron—looked at you with such pain. And the little boy, your son, who reached out to you and called you "Mom," only irritated you.

Sometimes you would lock yourself in the bedroom and not talk. And when they tried to approach, you would lose your temper.
"Get him away from me!" you screamed at Aaron as your son ran up to you. "He's annoying me with his crying!"

Aaron turned pale
"It's not his fault that his mother has become a stranger! He's three years old, he misses you!"

— I don't have a son. And I don't have a husband either. Leave me alone!

You saw the weariness in his eyes. A year passed. And then one day you were sitting in the kitchen, when suddenly something clicked. Memories came crashing down on you.

You jumped up and rushed to the second floor, to your husband's office. You needed to tell him. Aaron was sitting at the desk. Hearing the door slam, he turned his head.

• Aaron, I!.. - you spoke.

But he interrupted you.
"I've thought it all over. And I've decided it's best for us to separate. All the divorce papers have already been signed. Pack your things and get out of here."