For the first time in my life, I took a carriage by myself, heading straight for the city with no plan and no hesitation.

My only purpose was to visit the town hall, where Carlos said he worked.

However, the reaction I received there was no different to that of the villagers.

“That can’t be right. He told me himself that he worked here.”

I had travelled all this way, clinging to the last shred of hope that I might find even the slightest trace of my husband.

Or at least to confirm that he was still alive.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t make someone exist when they don’t.”

The clerk said flatly, his tone edged with irritation. My hands trembled as I clasped them together and pleaded.

“Just once more, please. Please check again.”

Carlos and I had visited the city a few times before.

He said he wanted to show me around before he started work.

I remembered it clearly: he had walked right into this very building, waved goodbye and disappeared through its doors.

How could they say he’d never worked here?

“Please… I’m begging you.”

Seeing the color drain from my face, the clerk sighed and reluctantly flicked through a pile of documents once more.

“You said your husband’s name was Carlos Romolo, correct?”

“Yes, yes—that’s right.”

He turned to the employee beside him and asked quietly before rifling through the papers again. After a few tense moments, he finally shook his head.

“I’ve checked several times. There’s no record of anyone by that name ever having worked here.”

It felt as though my heart had plummeted straight to the floor, leaving me feeling cold, heavy, and unbearably hollow.

Even my neighbors, who had known me for two years, said they had never heard of Carlos.

They looked at me as though I were a delusional woman ranting about a man who didn’t exist.

I had come all this way clinging to the slightest glimmer of hope, but it was the same here.

No one knew him.

No one remembered him.

My fingertips trembled as I clenched them tightly, forcing my voice to remain steady.

“Then perhaps…”

Maybe I had gone insane.

Maybe I was the only person who remembered someone who never existed.

To anyone else, I must have seemed crazy.

And yet, I couldn’t let go.

How could I, when every memory of him still felt so painfully real?

“Could you check if there’s a marriage record between me and Carlos?”

“What is your name?”

“Sarah Lamont.”

The clerk rose from his seat and asked me to wait a moment.

He probably thought I’d been deceived in some sort of fraudulent marriage.

But, to be honest, I almost wished that were true, because at least that would mean he existed.

When the clerk finally returned with a stack of documents, he looked puzzled, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Is… is something wrong?”

I asked, my voice tight with anxiety.

The clerk hesitated, glancing at me doubtfully.

“Are you certain you were married?”

“Of course I am! We filled out the marriage registration form together, right here in this office!”

He let out a slow breath before answering.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lamont, but there’s no record of any marriage filed under your name.”

“… What?”

The word fell from my lips in a whisper.

I didn’t know what was real anymore.

Maybe… just maybe…

Everything I’d shared with him, every moment, every touch, every promise, had never existed outside my own mind.

Maybe the villagers were right.

Maybe I went mad after Father died.

But what about all the memories I had of Carl from before I found Father’s body?

Were those illusions, too?

Had I unconsciously invented someone, someone who wasn’t my father, but who loved me completely to fill the void inside me?

I knew that asking any more questions would lead nowhere; each one would only lead back to the same empty answer.

So I simply turned away and left the town hall, my body drained of all strength.

I could feel countless eyes on me as I shuffled through the hall, but I no longer cared.

I had no idea how I made it outside, only that at some point my foot caught on the steps leading to the entrance, causing me to fall hard to the ground.

The world tilted violently.

The sky, the stone, the rain, everything blurred together as I lay sprawled on the pavement, unable to move.

It felt as though the entire world had collapsed around me.

It was as if I were sinking into a bottomless pit with no end in sight.

“Hhk…”

The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free.

I had refused to cry because doing so would mean admitting that he was gone from this world.

But my heart could bear it no longer.

There was nothing left to hold on to.

This was reality.

Someone as wonderful as him could never have loved someone like me.

He was nothing more than a beautiful illusion that I had created for myself.

“Uh… hh—”

A sob tore its way out of my throat.

The loneliness pressed down on me so heavily that it hurt to breathe, it was the kind of pain that made it feel as though my chest were being ripped apart.

I couldn’t even think about getting up.

No, I had forgotten how to stand.

I wished I could lose my mind completely and live forever inside that fragile dream where he still existed.

After all, I didn’t have a year left to live anyway.

For a moment, I wished that illusion or not. I could spend the rest of my remaining time with both Father and my husband beside me.

“I love you, Sarah.”
“Liar.”
“I promise to love only you, forever.”
“Liar…”
“I’ll always be by your side.”
“You’re not here. You’re not with me…”
“I’ll live my whole life for you.”
“All lies… hhhk…”

As if pitying my grief, the sky began to weep.

Raindrops trickled down from above, and everything I saw turned to gray—cold, colorless, stripped of warmth.

I could hear the murmurs of people passing in and out of the city hall, whispering about me. But their voices never reached my ears.

All I could feel was the hollow exhaustion spreading through me, as though the rain had drained every bit of strength I had left.

And then—

“Miss Sarah…?”

A voice, distant yet strangely familiar, reached me through the sound of rain.

I turned my head weakly.

Through my blurred vision, I saw a man standing there, looking down at me with deep concern.

“Carlos?”

I couldn’t make out the man’s face through the blur of tears and rain. My vision swam and my breathing became shallow.

He reached down and helped me to my feet. His voice was full of concern.

“What are you doing out here like this?”

The voice — gentler and younger — wasn’t Carlos’s.

The man’s hair was bright and golden, unlike the warm chestnut brown that always reminded me of autumn.

Only then did I recognize who he was.

“Mr Edwin?”

“So you remember me. Let’s get you inside first, you’re freezing.”

He was the merchant’s son from our village.

He worked for a trading company in the capital and rarely came home, perhaps only once a year.

Steadying me with his arm, he led me into a warm room nearby.

I sat numbly, unable to say or do anything, while he poured a cup of tea and placed it gently in front of me.

“What happened? Why were you sitting there like that in front of the city hall?”

“I… tripped on the steps.”

“You tripped and cried like that?”

“…”

Seeing my expression, he didn’t press further. Instead, he sighed softly and changed the subject.

“More importantly, where’s your husband? Why are you here all alone in your condition?”

The moment he said the word ‘husband’, my entire body froze.

“What… what did you just say?”

“I asked what brought you here alone—”

“No, before that.”

Before I knew it, I had grabbed the edge of his coat with trembling fingers.

“I asked where your husband was.”

He repeated, looking puzzled.

Someone—someone actually remembered him.

“You… remember him?”

I whispered, my voice shaking. I looked up at Edwin wide-eyed and terrified, certain that if I blinked, he would disappear like a ghost.

Desperately, I clutched his coat tighter with both hands, as if it were the last thread connecting me to reality.

“Do you remember my husband?”

My voice trembled as I clung to Edwin, my eyes wide with urgent desperation.

Startled by my frantic tone, Edwin blinked, clearly taken aback.

“Pardon? Well, I only met him once, but of course I remember him. I even attended your wedding.”

At that moment, every muscle in my body relaxed.

A flood of indescribable relief washed over me, stealing my breath.

“Ah!”

He wasn’t an illusion.

He wasn’t something I’d created in my madness.

I didn’t realize I was crying until I covered my mouth with my hand and muffled a sob.

No one in the village remembered my husband.

Not a single person at the town hall knew his name.

There was no record of him anywhere, not in their ledgers or official documents.

But now, here was someone who did.

Someone other than me who remembered him.

It felt as though I had just surfaced after drowning, the air rushed into my lungs, and for the first time in days, I could breathe again.

Yet that relief quickly turned into unease.

Why did only Edwin remember him?

Why not the villagers? Why not the city officials?

They had all acted as though he had never existed.

That couldn’t be possible.

How could they deny my vivid memories of his voice, his warmth, and the feeling of his hand brushing against my cheek?

Even at my weakest, when I began to doubt my own sanity, part of me never stopped believing.

Meeting Edwin turned that fragile belief into conviction: Carlos was real.

He had to be.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Edwin said softly, breaking into my thoughts. “But since I was planning to go back home anyway, let me walk you back to the village.”

His kindness brought me back to myself.

I hastily wiped my tears away and looked up at him, he was the only other person who remembered Carlos.

Why him?

What made him different from everyone else?

Before I could dwell on it, Edwin offered an awkward smile, perhaps sensing the weight of my stare.

“By the way, how is Mr. Lamont? I was hoping to thank him the wine he gave me last year was excellent.”

At the mention of my father’s name, my expression froze.

Of course, Edwin, who only visited once or twice a year, couldn’t have known that.

I lowered my head; the words were caught in my throat for a moment before I finally forced them out.

“Father… passed away recently.”

“What?”

His voice faltered, and disbelief flickered across his face.