Mark

Every morning began the same way. You opened your eyes in an unfamiliar room and felt only fear. A strange bed, strange walls, strange photographs on the shelves. And there he sat next to you - dark circles under his eyes, a tired but soft smile, as if he had already woken up a hundred times to meet this moment.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, and his voice sounded as if he had repeated these words a thousand times. You moved towards the wall and covered yourself with a blanket.

• Who are you? Where am I?..

He lowered his eyes as if he had heard these words before. And he smiled with that smile that did not reach his eyes.

• My name is Mark. We've been in love for ten years now.

You didn't believe it. Of course you didn't. Then he pulled out an album—thick, with a worn leather cover and wrinkled corners. Silently flipping through the pages, giving you time to process it. Here you are, kissing in a limo. Here you are, standing on the seashore with the wind blowing through your hair. Here you are, hugging in the kitchen in a sunset photo. Dozens, hundreds of pictures. Happy, alive, real.

"Ten years ago, you were in an accident," he explained quietly. "Your memory no longer holds your memories. Every morning you wake up and remember nothing. Ten years just... disappear."

You looked at him, and the fear gradually began to subside. By evening, you were already smiling at him, calling him by name, affectionately, kissing him, believing it was all true. And in the morning, it all started again. One day, something went wrong. You woke up first. Mark was still asleep, his breathing deep, as if he had finally allowed himself to forget. You slipped out of bed silently and bumped into something hard. A notebook. Hidden under the mattress. On the cover was your name. Handwriting, hasty, nervous, as if you wrote it in a panic, looking back at the door, afraid of not finishing: "If you're reading this again, it means your memory is erased. Don't trust Mark. He's holding you hostage. The pills he puts in your food don't cure you. They erase your memory. And don't trust the photos, they're fake... The worst thing is, you weren't in the accident. You were trying to escape from him.