The Prisoner of Time

After twenty-five years of marriage, my husband, Shen Weilin, fell ill.

He remembered everyone in his life. But he remembered no trace of me.Even He remembered our children.

To keep him calm, the children told him I was just the housekeeper and that his wife had already passed away several years ago.

Every day, he mourned bitterly for “his wife.” He tore apart our wedding photos with his own hands and displayed, instead, a framed portrait of his childhood sweetheart.

And yet, I did not weep, because, truthfully, these past two decades had only been borrowed time for me.

He had never truly loved me. From the very beginning, his heart belonged to someone else.