Page 6
Story: The Cost of Forgetting Me
She threw out the cupcakes I made from his birthday cake scraps, which were low in sugar to suit his tastes. They were already mouldy.
Landon disliked overly sweet foods, but he still craved cake. So I learnt how to bake and used only the best ingredients to provide him with the cleanest, healthiest desserts possible.
He lingered in the doorway, silent. As the cleaner discarded them, he bent down to pick one up and examine it carefully. “It’s been a while since I’ve tasted your cakes,” he said softly, as if I’d imagined it.
Then he dropped it, as if it had burned him, and fled the kitchen.
“What an odd guy.” The cleaner shook her head and resumed her work.
The house gleamed after she left, but Landon was uneasy, pacing and murmuring, “Something’s off. What’s missing? What is it?”
I silently observed him wandering through our home like a trapped whelp, tormented from within.
He snatched his phone and dialled Tessa, shouting before she could respond. “I’m done with this! Where the hell is Nora? Tell her to stop hiding and face me!”
Tessa’s feelings for him went beyond words. “You don’t deserve to see her.”
Landon’s face was contorted with rage. “Stop the nonsense! Tell Nora to come out! She’s not dead. She can’t be.”
Tessa’s temper flared. “Can’t be? She is suffering right before my eyes, and you think she’s pretending? I won’t let you disturb her peace. You won’t get to see her ever again.”
She hung up and blocked his number.
Landon felt exhausted and conflicted. He clenched his fists and bolted outside.
I followed, expecting him to seek Clara. Instead, he drove to a nearby hospital and looked for me in the ICUS.
“I am Nora Vance’s husband,” he explained. “Is she here?”
The nurse gave him a wary look. “And you don’t know where your wife is?”
She called security, who chased him out.
Back in his car, Landon pounded the steering wheel in frustration. His persistence was pointless.
I expected him to give up after the hospital farce, but he did not.
He called the cops. “Officer, my wife’s missing.”
His voice was tinged with concern, but I found it funny. I was done with him, and now he cares.
The officer asked him to go to the nearest police station and recount everything that had happened.
He revealed our fight but overlooked Clara’s role. The cops were not fooled.
“You didn’t see or contact her for a month?” asked one officer. “What were you doing all that time?”
Landon shifted uncomfortably. “I was helping a friend.”
The officers exchanged glances, noticing holes in his story. They stepped aside and discussed, “We should hold him. His statement is suspicious; this could be a homicide. Let’s look into his and his wife’s backgrounds.”
I was astounded by their keen instincts. But after Landon reported the case, they began looking for me.
They returned several minutes later with my records, looking serious and sceptical. “Your wife’s been in the ICU for a month. You didn’t know? She was admitted the day you fought.”
“ICU? She’s really dying?” Landon froze before slamming the table and shooting up. “No way. She’s paying you to lie, isn’t she? Drop the act!”
Landon disliked overly sweet foods, but he still craved cake. So I learnt how to bake and used only the best ingredients to provide him with the cleanest, healthiest desserts possible.
He lingered in the doorway, silent. As the cleaner discarded them, he bent down to pick one up and examine it carefully. “It’s been a while since I’ve tasted your cakes,” he said softly, as if I’d imagined it.
Then he dropped it, as if it had burned him, and fled the kitchen.
“What an odd guy.” The cleaner shook her head and resumed her work.
The house gleamed after she left, but Landon was uneasy, pacing and murmuring, “Something’s off. What’s missing? What is it?”
I silently observed him wandering through our home like a trapped whelp, tormented from within.
He snatched his phone and dialled Tessa, shouting before she could respond. “I’m done with this! Where the hell is Nora? Tell her to stop hiding and face me!”
Tessa’s feelings for him went beyond words. “You don’t deserve to see her.”
Landon’s face was contorted with rage. “Stop the nonsense! Tell Nora to come out! She’s not dead. She can’t be.”
Tessa’s temper flared. “Can’t be? She is suffering right before my eyes, and you think she’s pretending? I won’t let you disturb her peace. You won’t get to see her ever again.”
She hung up and blocked his number.
Landon felt exhausted and conflicted. He clenched his fists and bolted outside.
I followed, expecting him to seek Clara. Instead, he drove to a nearby hospital and looked for me in the ICUS.
“I am Nora Vance’s husband,” he explained. “Is she here?”
The nurse gave him a wary look. “And you don’t know where your wife is?”
She called security, who chased him out.
Back in his car, Landon pounded the steering wheel in frustration. His persistence was pointless.
I expected him to give up after the hospital farce, but he did not.
He called the cops. “Officer, my wife’s missing.”
His voice was tinged with concern, but I found it funny. I was done with him, and now he cares.
The officer asked him to go to the nearest police station and recount everything that had happened.
He revealed our fight but overlooked Clara’s role. The cops were not fooled.
“You didn’t see or contact her for a month?” asked one officer. “What were you doing all that time?”
Landon shifted uncomfortably. “I was helping a friend.”
The officers exchanged glances, noticing holes in his story. They stepped aside and discussed, “We should hold him. His statement is suspicious; this could be a homicide. Let’s look into his and his wife’s backgrounds.”
I was astounded by their keen instincts. But after Landon reported the case, they began looking for me.
They returned several minutes later with my records, looking serious and sceptical. “Your wife’s been in the ICU for a month. You didn’t know? She was admitted the day you fought.”
“ICU? She’s really dying?” Landon froze before slamming the table and shooting up. “No way. She’s paying you to lie, isn’t she? Drop the act!”