Day 29 of the Divorce Cooling-off Period, My Husband Lost His Memory - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Three months later, the Nanting Case went to trial.

Zhou Ming was sentenced, and Zhou’s Mother was also held accountable for forging signatures and instigating the transfer of assets.

Zhou Yue appeared in court as a witness.

I sat in the gallery and watched him answer every question with absolute clarity.

He did not shift the blame onto his family.

He did not claim he had been unaware.

He said, “I realized it too late, and that caused Ms. Lin Zhi harm.”

The judge reminded him to answer only with facts.

He nodded.

“The fact is, I bear responsibility.”

After the hearing ended, I ran into him at the courthouse entrance.

He was thinner than he had been a few months ago, but he looked more clearheaded than before.

We walked side by side for a while.

He asked, “Is the studio going all right?”

“It’s fine.”

“Does your stomach still hurt?”

“Much less often.”

“That’s good.”

Another silence fell between us.

I thought that would be how we said goodbye.

But Zhou Yue took a document envelope out of his bag.

“The last one.”

I took it.

Inside was the sales contract for the Zhou Family apartment. The payment had already been deposited into an account under my name.

There was also a photograph.

In the photo, I was wearing a white suit dress and standing at the entrance of a bridal shop.

Not the old one.

It was a solo photoshoot I had booked for myself.

I had never told Zhou Yue about it.

I looked up at him.

“Were you following me?”

He immediately shook his head.

“No. The photographer is my friend’s younger sister. She posted it on her Moments, and I saw it.”

He sounded a little nervous.

“I didn’t save the original. This is the public one.”

I lowered my gaze to the photo.

In it, I wore no ring and no veil.

In my hands was a very small bouquet of red roses.

That day, the photographer had asked me why I chose red roses.

I said they were cheap and made me look healthy.

But that wasn’t the real reason.

I had only wanted to return the bouquet from the day we got our marriage certificate to my twenty-four-year-old self.

There was a line of words on the back of the photo.

Zhou Yue had written it.

To Lin Zhi: May you always have somewhere to go, and may there always be a road ahead of you.

I looked at it for a while, then put the photo back into the envelope.

“Thank you.”

Zhou Yue gave a faint smile.

“You don’t have to return anything this time.”

I had originally thought that would be the last time we met alone.

But the very next day, an unexpected client came to the studio.

It was the owner of the bridal shop.

She had gained a little weight compared to a few years ago, and she wore a tape measure around her hand. When she smiled, she was still just as warm and enthusiastic.

“Miss Lin, do you still remember me?”

Of course I did.

That day, she had handed me tissues without asking why I was crying.

She said her new shop was preparing a set of posters themed “Wedding for One,” and she wanted to hire me to design the key visual.

I asked her, “Why come to me?”

The owner looked a little embarrassed.

“Mr. Zhou recommended you.”

The pen in my hand stopped.

She quickly waved her hand.

“Don’t misunderstand. He didn’t ask me to give you business as a favor. He only said you had worked on independent women’s brands before, and that your aesthetic was very clean.”

She took an old envelope out of her bag.

“And this. I found it while clearing out the old shop during the move.”

Inside the envelope was a deposit receipt.

The fee I had paid that night three years ago to try on wedding dresses.

On the back of the receipt, a shop assistant had written a sentence by hand.

The bride waited alone until 9:40. Final payment not collected.

I stared at the words “the bride” for a long time.

The owner said softly, “Mr. Zhou came by afterward. He paid the remaining balance and asked which dress you had tried on that day.”

“At the time, I thought the two of you had gone on to hold the wedding.”

I shook my head.

“We didn’t.”

She did not ask any further questions. She only pushed the materials toward me.

“Then this time, we won’t write about waiting.”

I looked up at her.

The owner smiled.

“We’ll write about departure.”

At that moment, I suddenly wanted to take the project.

Not for Zhou Yue.

And not to reconcile with the past.

I simply wanted to personally turn the “not collected” balance on that deposit receipt into an order that truly belonged to me.

I poured the owner a glass of water.

“Send me the budget sheet. I’ll take it.”

Her smile curved all the way to the corners of her eyes.

That night, for the first time, I did not work overtime until my stomach hurt.

I named the new proposal One Second Before Departure.

The cover was an open door.

Outside the door, there was no groom, no floral arch, and no audience.

Only a bright road.

I smiled too.

“Then I’ll get going.”

“Okay.”

I had only taken a few steps when my phone rang.

It was a message from a friend.

A new client at the studio is asking if you’re available. The budget is pretty good.

I replied with one word: Available.

The wind blew over from the courthouse entrance. The scent of spring was faint.

I no longer pressed a hand to my stomach.

Nor did I feel empty anymore.

When I reached the subway entrance, I saw my reflection in the glass doors.

My complexion looked good.

My eyes were bright too.

Another old schedule reminder popped up on my phone.

I had no idea when it had been set.

Wedding dress fitting, seven o’clock.

I looked at it for a few seconds, then opened it.

There was another note in the reminder details.

Remember to bring the lipstick she likes.

I stared at that line and suddenly remembered that, a long time ago, Zhou Yue really had clumsily tried to remember the things I liked.

He remembered which wonton shop I loved. He remembered that I was afraid of the cold. He remembered that I couldn’t sleep before interviews.

But a marriage could not survive on these scattered bits of kindness alone.

They were like buttons strewn across the floor.

Every single one of them was real.

But the piece of clothing could no longer be worn.

I took that lipstick out of my bag, glanced at it, then put it back.

The color was still perfect.

I could keep using it in the future.

That was enough.

I was enough too.

Truly.

Delete.

The system asked me whether I wanted to delete the recurring reminder.

I pressed confirm.

All the old reminders disappeared one by one.

The screen became clean.

I put my phone back into my bag and walked toward the platform.

The next train would arrive in two minutes.

Just right.

The End