My Ex-Boyfriend Went Crazy After I Lost My Memory

Everyone believed Simon adored me beyond measure.

No one but me could ever be his wife, or so they thought.

But that love existed only in public view.

Away from prying eyes, he lived recklessly, always tangled up with his mistress.

He showered her with extravagant gifts and fought fiercely to defend her.

Meanwhile, he labeled me a shameless gold-digger.

Later, sickness struck me, and I forgot many faces and moments.

Yet one name lingered in my mind, refusing to fade.

Simon's eyes reddened as he demanded, "Who is that man? Why do you remember him and not me?"

1

I stared at the intimate couple on my phone screen and slowly shut it off.

I lost track of how many taunting photos Lydia had sent me.

Nor could I recall the last time Simon and I exchanged words.

Simon was my fiancé. During our junior year summer, he proposed to me before countless witnesses, sealing our engagement with a promise of marriage after graduation.

But then senior year began, and everything changed. He met his true love.

Lydia was a new junior, brimming with youth and boldness.

Friends remarked how much she resembled me. They insisted Simon's attention to her stemmed from that likeness.

After all, everyone knew he loved me with a passion that consumed him.

He fell for me the moment he saw me.

A fleeting glance at the opening ceremony filled his heart and eyes with nothing but me.

"Delilah, I'll never let go of your hand in this lifetime," he vowed.

The night I agreed to be his, Simon wept and laughed like a child.

He held me tight and swore we'd grow old together.

Back then, I believed his love for me ran deep.

I thought I'd be the only woman he'd ever cherish so profoundly.

But in just a few years, that love twisted into something unrecognizable.

All because Lydia stepped into his life.

2

When the freshmen arrived, Simon picked Lydia up.

From that day, she latched onto him.

They worked together in the student council, where she served as his assistant.

Whenever the smallest issue arose, she pestered him for answers.

From event planning to sorting papers, she demanded his personal help, though anyone could have stepped in.

At first, Simon found her utterly irritating.

Yet his role as student council president forced him to humor her with patience.

During that time, every meeting with me revolved around her.

He called her dim-witted, complaining she asked the same questions repeatedly, lacking any sense of her own.

He mocked her childishness, pointing out the absurd strawberry hairpin she always wore and her tendency to cry at the slightest thing.

She couldn't handle a single harsh word, far too fragile.

To Simon, she didn't even compare to his sister, a decade younger.

But he never noticed how his face softened with a fond smile whenever he spoke of her.

Jealousy gnawed at me. After one more date, I grabbed his hand.

"Next time we meet, can you avoid mentioning Lydia even once?" I pleaded.

Simon froze for a moment, then pulled me close and burst into laughter.

"Is my little Delilah jealous?" he teased.

He played with me, then blocked Lydia right in front of me.

His kiss brushed my forehead, his gaze thick with affection.

But days later, Lydia posted something unexpected.

"Fireworks are beautiful," she wrote. "But what matters isn't the fireworks. It's the person who stays with you until midnight to watch them."

The photo showed two figures from behind.

I knew the man instantly. It was Simon.

I dialed his number, but no one picked up.

My hands shook as my heart sank.

Simon, it seemed, had truly fallen for her.

3

From that point, Simon and I slipped into a silent standoff.

He offered no excuses, and I refused to chase him for answers.

Whether it was the suggestive photos with Lydia or my dozens of unanswered calls, neither of us budged.

For an entire week, we had no contact.

Even my laid-back roommate sensed the tension and asked if we'd fought.

I stayed quiet.

Then, days later, I crossed paths with Simon at school.

"I'm skipping the team-building trip. I need to go home to my girl," he said into his phone, rushing past me.

He didn't notice me standing there.

Still, his words fooled me. I returned to the house we shared and prepared a lavish dinner with care.

But midnight came, and Simon never showed.

Disappointment settled in as I ate the cold meal alone.

Then my phone rang. It was Simon.

"Honey, I miss you so much," he slurred.

"Come pick me up, please. I want a kiss from my girl..."

Drunk, he slipped into that familiar charm I once adored.

My resolve melted, and the hurt of recent days faded.

"Hey, look at Simon playing cute! Bet it's for Lydia!" a voice jeered through the line.

Chaos erupted on his end.

Excited shouts followed. "Hey, Lydia! When are you and Simon tying the knot? We've got ready to witness. The guys can't wait!"

The smile I'd just found froze.

So, to his friends, Lydia was the real girlfriend?

What did that make me?

A fool?

My thoughts spiraled, and a sharp pain stabbed my head. Blood trickled from my nose.

The agony stole my breath, and I crumpled onto the sofa in a heap.

As minutes ticked by, the truth hit me.

Simon had fully welcomed Lydia into his world.

4

Even as I tried to act unbothered, whispers of our breakup spread.

Photos of Simon and Lydia on dates flooded the school's forums.

With one call, he rented a luxury cruise worth millions, all because Lydia mentioned wanting to see the sea.

The irony stung was that, he'd never done anything like that for me.

He took her to events, his every move radiating care and defense for her.

He even brought her along to pick up his sister from school.

The three of them held hands, a picture of a joyful family.

Campus gossip claimed Simon had fallen for Lydia, while I'd become a relic of his past.

So when he bought the ring I'd adored for ages, I assumed he'd give it to her, a token of everlasting love.

But the next morning, it sat by my bed.

A delicate box held a note. "Eternal love, for the one I cherish most."

I recognized Simon's handwriting instantly. Confusion clouded my mind.

What did this mean?

I couldn't read him anymore.

5

At the college mixer, I finally met Lydia face-to-face.

She grabbed my hand with a warm familiarity, her smile sugary sweet.

"I knew I had good taste. Delilah, this ring suits you perfectly," she chirped. "Simon's been tied up with me lately because of student council stuff. I'm sorry on his behalf. You're so easygoing, Delilah. You get it, right? Don't get the wrong idea about the ring. He got drunk that night and tried to slip it on me, but I'm too young to appreciate it. So I told him to give it to you. It really does suit you."

Her smile hid a venomous edge, like a cruel enchantress.

Pain sliced through my chest.

So the ring was her cast-off.

She noticed my stunned silence and grew smugger.

"No need to feel too grateful, Delilah. This ring's nothing. Simon's already given me so much," she boasted. "If you want anything later, just ask me. You can take your pick from what he's given me."

"Really?" I murmured.

I studied her beaming face and let out a soft laugh.

Before anyone could blink, I ripped an earring from her lobe.

It tore through skin, and Lydia shrieked in agony.

Her face twisted as she clutched her ear, blood dripping to the floor.

That smugness vanished.

I towered over her and grinned. "Thanks a lot. I love this gift."

6

The uproar drew a crowd, and Simon arrived sooner than I expected.

Under watchful eyes, he pulled me aside, his expression tight with worry as he checked me over.

His gaze brimmed with concern, the kind anyone would call heartfelt.

"Simon, my ear hurts so bad..." Lydia whimpered.

"Delilah, are you okay?" he asked.

Our voices clashed, but only Lydia squirmed in shame.

She was too inexperienced.

For Simon, pride outweighed everything.

In a setting like this, he'd only dote on me, his "first choice."

"Delilah, you look pale. Did someone hurt you? Tell me," he pressed.

He ignored Lydia, his long fingers brushing my cheek tenderly.

She lunged forward, desperate. "Simon, it's obviously me who-"

"Lydia!" he snapped, cutting her off. Fury simmered in his eyes. "I'm asking who upset Delilah. If you don't know, keep quiet!"

A shove sent Lydia stumbling.

She hit the ground hard, her white skirt soon speckled with blood.

A heavy silence fell.

"It was me! I hurt the woman you love most. Isn't that enough?" Lydia wailed, cracking under the strain.

Tears streamed down her face, as if she alone bore the world's sorrows.

"I was naive. I dared to love someone I shouldn't," she sobbed. "For the one I love, I even took on the role of the other woman. I'm such a fool, aren't I, Simon?"

In a frantic move, she tore off her other earring.

Blood stained her hands as she held it out, laughing through her tears. "You like these earrings. Here you go. Is this enough?"

Simon's grip on my hand tightened sharply.

It felt like he meant to snap my wrist.

I winced but clenched my jaw.

Compared to the betrayal of someone I loved, this pain was nothing.

His breathing grew ragged.

I knew he pitied Lydia.

Yet, with everyone watching, he softened his voice for me.

"Darling, is this okay now?" he cooed.

I stared at his fake tenderness and burst into laughter.

I tilted my head and asked, "Isn't it exhausting to keep up this act?"

He frowned.

I opened my hands and smiled. "It must be tough, not being free to be with the one you truly want. Give me some money, and I'll vanish from your life for good. You can have your happy ending. How's that?"

His face darkened, the mask slipping. "Delilah, three years, and you're still obsessed with wealth! I should've seen it sooner. You never loved me. It was always my money," he spat. "People like you, Delilah, why don't you just drop dead?"

I said nothing. With a faint smirk, I turned and walked away.

Simon got his wish.

Death seemed close.

A past check-up revealed something in my brain.

It might steal my memories or claim my life any day.

7

Simon had one thing right. I did crave money.

But for a girl raised in an orphanage, parentless and scraping by, how could I not?

He knew my story well.

When he chased me, he'd said, "Delilah, your life's been so hard. Let me take care of you from now on, okay?"

Back then, he surprised me constantly.

On Valentine's Day, he led me to the campus's grandest square.

With flowers in hand, he knelt and poured out his heart.

That awkward, youthful romance belonged to me alone, a gift from Simon.

I loved him so much.

But now, his love had faded.

Worse, he'd never trusted me.

So I decided to stop loving him too.

8

Without warning, my illness worsened.

Pain robbed me of simple joys like eating or sleeping.

On another lone trip to the doctor, the nurse spoke up.

"Your condition's serious. Next time, bring family to help you," she suggested.

Family? The word felt alien.

My father died young, and my mother ditched me at five, shedding me like a burden.

I'd given up on family forever.

Then I spotted Lydia.

She arrived for her ear, escorted by a middle-aged woman.

That figure merged with the hazy memory of my mother.

"Mom-" I croaked.

Maybe it was weakness, but I staggered toward her.

I longed for her to hold me as she once did, soothing me with whispers that the pain would vanish.

Instead, a sharp slap stung my face.

My mother didn't recognize me.

She jabbed a finger at me, her curses a blur I couldn't hear.

All I understood was that Lydia was her daughter now.

9

At eleven, I'd seen my mother once.

She stood outside a dessert shop, smiling softly as she fed Lydia a tiny cake.

Overwhelmed with joy, I yelled as loud as I could. "Mom, I'm here! Delilah's here, Mom!"

She glanced my way, surprise flickering in her eyes.

I knew she recognized me, but indifference quickly took over.

Lydia pinched her nose and screeched, "Stinky beggar! Gross! Mom, let's go!"

We shared a mother, yet we lived worlds apart.

Lydia shone in bright clothes, cherished by my mom, enjoying cakes I'd never tasted.

I scavenged trash to survive, my stench a constant curse.

"I'm your big sister, not a beggar," I pleaded.

"You're not my sister! Get away! Mom, I'm scared..." she bawled.

Lydia's cries broke out instantly. My mother scooped her up, grabbed a stone, and hurled it at me like I was a stray dog. "Get lost, filthy beggar! Scare my kid again, and I'll end you!"

The rock split my scalp, blood pouring out.

Kind strangers asked what happened as I bled.

But my mother had already fled with Lydia.

From a distance, her soothing voice reached me. "Don't cry, sweet Lydia. I got rid of the beggar, my precious girl..."

I collapsed, screaming silently. "Mom, I'm your child too.

Why did you abandon me?

What did I do? Can't I fix it?"

But no one answered.

10

Pain snapped me back to clarity.

This time, as my mother cursed again, I shoved her away.

She tumbled to the ground, howling, "Everyone, look! She's attacking us! She'll kill me and my daughter!"

Lydia reacted fast. She whipped off her hat, baring her wounded ear, and dropped to her knees before me.

"Delilah, I was wrong. Punish me however you want. But please spare my mom. She's not well..." she begged.

Her frail look stirred sympathy in others.

Voices condemning me rose, some filming the scene.

Logic urged me to run.

But control slipped, and I swung my bag down on Lydia.

Once, twice, three times.

Her screams thrilled me.

My dear sister, did she ever feel a shred of my years of suffering?

Then my mother lunged, yanking my hair and pinning me down in a scuffle.

Curses filled my ears.

I stopped caring.

Next to death, nothing mattered.

Mom, would you mourn me if I died?

I doubted it.

11

A video of me "attacking" Lydia and her mother exploded across the forum.

"Oh my gosh, what a scandal! Delilah's so vicious. How did Simon ever like her?" one post read.

"Bullying's happening right here! Lydia looks wrecked. Call the cops," another demanded.

"I'm neutral, but hitting a mom's too far. Expel her!" a third chimed in.

By the time I read that, I sat in the principal's office.

"You're Delilah, correct? Your actions damaged the school's reputation. We've decided to discipline you. Here's the notice. Review it," he said.

I eyed the paper he handed me and laughed inwardly.

"Principal, you didn't even ask me. Judging me this fast feels unfair," I argued.

A loud slap hit the desk.

Impatience creased his face.

"The video's crystal clear. What's there to ask?" he barked. "Harassing weaker classmates? I'm generous not expelling you! Take a week's suspension to think it over. Then return."

He tossed the notice at my feet, a humiliating gesture.

My strength drained, and I gave up justifying myself.

Then Simon burst in.

"Principal, someone twisted this story on purpose. You know Delilah's character. She wouldn't do this," he insisted.

He stepped in front of me and pulled out a USB drive.

It held hospital footage, capturing the full event.

He argued fiercely for me, looking every bit the devoted lover.

Only when the principal canceled my punishment did I snap out of it.

That was close. I nearly fell for Simon's act again.

His heart no longer belonged to me.

12

Simon trailed me home.

He plopped onto the sofa, ignoring the scattered pill bottles, and issued an order.

"Delilah, go say sorry to Lydia," he commanded. "She told me not to fight with you. How could you be so heartless to such a sweet girl? I feel awful for her."

Lydia stole my partner and hogged my mother's love.

Simon shielded her at every turn, while my mother wished me dead, erased from existence.

Everyone pitied her.

Who pitied me?

Was I born to be hated and beaten?

I screamed and swept everything off the table. "Get out! I'm not apologizing!"

Simon's smile vanished.

He seized my throat, his voice icy. "Delilah, you're really testing me."

He dialed a number. "Pull Delilah Palmer's scholarship. Rule-breakers don't deserve it," he instructed.

Abandoned young and bullied, I learned early I had to reshape my fate. Money became my lifeline.

Only with it could I survive.

I poured every moment into studying and earning, never easing up beyond meals and sleep.

To others, it was minor, but after my illness, that scholarship meant survival.

Even though it could only buy me five days of medicine.

Why should Simon's single word sever my lifeline and trash my hard work?

Rage surged, my eyes brimming with grief.

"Simon, you're despicable!" I shouted.

"Do you even know I'm sick? I'm dying!" Head throbbing, I sobbed. "I might not make it to graduation. That scholarship was mine. Why take it away? You're using it to force me to grovel to Lydia. I won't bend! Listen, Simon. I don't want it anymore. I'll never apologize!"

He listened in silence, then chuckled. "Me, despicable? Am I as low as you, gold-digger? Sneaking my money to fund someone else. You've got guts, Delilah."

After a pause, he sighed.

He pulled me into his arms, relenting.

"Big girl like you crying? Fine, keep the scholarship," he muttered. "But mark this. It's the last time I let you off."

His tone dripped with reluctance, as if he still adored me.

13

The award ceremony arrived.

I dressed sharply, aiming to farewell my youth with pride.

But the principal's announcement jolted me.

"The national first-class scholarship goes to Lydia," he declared.

Lydia skipped onstage, beaming as she spoke.

"I'm thrilled to win this. I owe special thanks to someone vital to me.

His support and guidance made this possible," she gushed.

Her eyes locked on Simon in the crowd, bold and unhidden.

Whispers of gossip swept the room.

All eyes fixed on them.

I stood frozen, poised to rise, a fool beside Simon's seat.

Later, the principal named me too.

Harsh rebuke followed.

Before the crowd, he announced my awards were revoked.

Even my diploma would be withheld.

All because I "assaulted" Lydia.

The news buckled my knees.

My vision blurred, and pain seared my skull.

Simon's cruel laughter pierced my ears.

"Delilah, enjoying the taste of betrayal?" he sneered.

Oh, I enjoyed it plenty.

His revenge worked perfectly.

He never trusted me or believed in my illness.

The pain crushed me.

I strained to see his vile face clearly.

But my memories faded, slipping away until nothing remained.