The Memory Thief Next Door

On April Fool's Day, my sister and I moved into our new apartment.

Mr. Johnson Mr. Johnson's fridge was covered with notes containing bizarre rules.

One of them read: Never eat anything from the neighbor in 404---she'll consume parts of your memory.

I dismissed it as Mr. Johnson's holiday prank.

That afternoon, the neighbor from 404 knocked on our door and brought over a freshly baked tiramisu.

I thanked her with a smile and immediately put it in the fridge.

The next morning when I woke up,

my sister pointed at me in terror and asked, "Who are you?"

"Chloe, what are you talking about? I'm your sister."

I stepped forward to take her hand,

but Chloe backed away,

grabbing a throw pillow and clutching it tightly to her chest.

"I don't know you! Who are you! How did you get into my home!"

I froze in place.

The fear and resistance in Chloe's eyes didn't look like an act.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Chloe, calm down. We just moved in together yesterday, don't you remember?"

Chloe shook her head frantically, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember having a sister!"

I pulled out my phone, opened my photo album, and handed it to her.

"Look, this is us at the beach last month. You forgot?"

In the photo, we were smiling brightly, her arm linked intimately with mine.

A flash of confusion crossed Chloe's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by wariness.

"Photos don't mean anything---they can be AI-generated!"

"Then look at our chat history."

I opened SnapChat, hundreds of messages, scrolling up endlessly.

Chloe glanced at it and pushed the phone back.

"My phone was stolen. How do I know you didn't fake this?"

I was stunned.

She was right---her phone had been stolen a few days before we moved.

It was precisely because our old rental had such a chaotic environment that we'd decided to move.

I looked at Chloe, my mind in turmoil.

Could memories just vanish like that?

She knew her name was Chloe, knew her phone had been stolen, but she'd forgotten me entirely.

I suddenly remembered yesterday's note on the fridge.

I spun around and rushed into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge door.

The tiramisu was gone.

My hands were shaking.

How could something so coincidental and bizarre happen in this world?

I suppressed the panic rising in my chest and called Mr. Johnson.

The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. A drowsy voice came through.

"Hello?"

"Sir, this is Aria, I just moved into your place yesterday."

"I want to ask about the rules you posted on the fridge. My sister ate something from the 404 neighbor, and now she doesn't recognize me!"

The voice on the other end paused for two seconds, then burst into laughter.

"Young lady, don't you know what day yesterday was? April Fool's Day! I just wrote those notes for fun. Is your sister upset with you about something?"

"She's not upset. She genuinely doesn't recognize me."

My voice cracked with urgency.

But Mr. Johnson still treated it as a joke.

"Come on, nobody loses their memory after one night's sleep. You young folks just love pranking each other."

The call ended.

I rushed to door 404 and pressed the doorbell.

The door opened quickly. Mrs. Patterson was wearing an apron, holding a spatula, looking at me with confusion.

"Young lady, it's so early. Is something wrong?"

"Ma'am, what did you put in that tiramisu box you gave us yesterday?"

"My sister doesn't recognize me after eating it!"

Mrs. Patterson looked stunned, then showed an innocent, amused expression.

"How is that possible? It's just regular cake. I ate some myself."

She stepped aside slightly.

"I still have some left from yesterday. Why don't you come in and try it?"

"Maybe your sister hasn't been sleeping well lately. Sometimes poor sleep can cause hallucinations. Should I help you schedule a doctor's appointment?"

When I returned to the apartment, Chloe was standing in the living room.

Two police officers sat on the sofa, taking notes.

Chloe looked up at me, her eyes filled with unfamiliar wariness.

I stood at the door without moving.

The officer spoke first. "Are you Aria?"

"Yes, I'm her sister, Aria."

The officers spread photocopies of our IDs and household registration on the coffee table, exchanging glances.

"Ladies, is there some misunderstanding? You are indeed biological sisters. It's written clearly here."

The younger officer tried to mediate.

But Chloe wouldn't listen. She stubbornly insisted I was a stranger who'd broken into her home.

"There's no misunderstanding. I just don't know her. Take her away!"

The officers had no choice. They quietly told me, "Why don't you stay somewhere else tonight? Wait until her emotions stabilize, and if that doesn't work, contact your parents."

I sat on the stairwell steps, my mind in chaos.

I didn't dare go far. I found a budget hotel nearby.

I called my mom.

She seemed to be playing cards.

I kept it brief, not mentioning the prank notes, just saying Chloe didn't seem to recognize me.

Mom sighed.

She said, "Aria, is your sister still angry with you?"

I didn't understand. "Angry about what?"

Mom said, "About Zachary."

"You forced her to break up with him, made her block him. Chloe hasn't been quite right since then."

Zachary was Chloe's boyfriend of three years.

Three months ago, Chloe caught him with another girl. They were being intimate.

Chloe called me, crying so hard she couldn't form a complete sentence.

I told her to break up immediately, block him, leave no way back.

"She might have mentally linked you to that painful period, so she doesn't want to remember you at all."

I hung up, my mind a tangled mess.

Was this really a psychological issue?

I searched online for a well-reviewed counseling center.

The doctor listened and nodded.

"Your sister has amnesia specifically about you, correct?"

"Yes."

"This is called dissociative amnesia, a form of selective memory suppression."

"Her brain isn't damaged, and the memories exist intact. Her psychological defense mechanism has simply sealed off that part, preventing her from accessing it. She hasn't truly forgotten."

I was silent for a moment.

"Can she remember again?"

"Yes." The doctor spoke with certainty, no hesitation.

"But she needs a trigger point, something to give that sealed memory an outlet."

He paused.

"Was the starting point of your sister's amnesia the trauma within that relationship, or how it was handled after the breakup?"

"I don't know."

"Then you need to find out."

He picked up his pen again.

"You could try finding her ex-boyfriend. If that relationship can reach true closure in a meaningful sense, it might be a breakthrough."

"If your sister is willing, she could also come here so we can talk."

The one who tied the bell must untie it.

But could that bastard Zachary really untie this knot?

I found Zachary's number and called. No answer.

I sent a message on SnapChat:

[This is Aria. I need to talk to you. 3 PM, Countryside Caf on South Street.]

I arrived half an hour early.

I chose a window seat with a view of the street corner.

Three o'clock. Zachary didn't show.

Three-thirty. Zachary didn't show.

Four o'clock. The coffee had gone completely cold, and Zachary still hadn't appeared.

I tried calling him again. The line wouldn't connect.

Then my phone buzzed on the table---an unknown number.

"Hello, is this Ms. Aria?"

"Yes."

"This is the Criminal Investigation Unit of the City Police Department."

I thought something had happened to Chloe. My hand shook, nearly knocking over the coffee cup.

"Do you know Zachary? We received a report that he was found in an alley in the west district with severe head trauma. He's in the hospital now, unconscious."

I didn't catch the next few words. My ears were ringing.

"We checked his recent communications. Both you and Chloe contacted him recently. Please return to your apartment now to assist with the investigation."

I left the caf. The cold wind outside jolted me awake.

Back at the apartment, Chloe was curled up on the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees, making herself as small as possible.

The officers said there was no surveillance at the crime scene, no witnesses, and no weapon found.

Zachary's phone was also missing.

Chloe shook her head to every question.

"Zachary? Who's that? I don't know him."

"I don't remember him contacting me. I don't remember meeting him."

"I've been home these past few days. I haven't gone anywhere."

Her answers were airtight.

Naturally, the police couldn't get anything from me either.

After all, Zachary hadn't answered my call---I'd only sent a SnapChat message and never met him.

The officers told us to keep our phones available for further assistance with the investigation.

After the police left, I pulled Chloe onto the sofa.

"Chloe, tell me the truth. Did you go see Zachary these past two days?"

Chloe looked up, her eyes red and full of confusion.

"I don't remember. I really don't remember who Zachary is."

But I knew her too well.

When she was nervous, she'd unconsciously wring her fingers.

From the moment the police entered until now, her hands hadn't stopped that small gesture.

My doubts grew stronger.

But I didn't press further. After she fell asleep, I quietly entered her room.

In her nightstand drawer was a diary with a combination lock.

I tried several of her common passwords. None worked.

I hesitated, then entered my birthday.

The lock opened.

I flipped it open. The first few pages were in her usual handwriting.

Further in, the writing became messy.

The last few pages made a chill run down my spine.

"Zachary says he owes a lot of debt. The creditors will kill him."

"He says he wronged me and wants to see me one last time before he leaves."

"I don't know if I should agree."

"If Aria finds out I'm still in contact with him, she'll definitely yell at me. I can't let her know."

I closed the diary and sat in the darkness for a long time without moving.

My mind was even more chaotic.

Had Chloe gone to see Zachary?

Did Zachary's injury have anything to do with Chloe?

I didn't dare think further. Each question pressed down on me until I could barely breathe.

I looked up and found Chloe already awake, watching me quietly.

I walked over and placed the diary in front of her.

"Chloe, do you really not remember at all?"

Tears silently fell from Chloe's eyes. She didn't wipe them, just let them drop onto the blanket.

"You went to see him, didn't you?"

But she bit her lip and said nothing.

"You were there, weren't you?"

Still no response.

I shouted sternly, "Chloe!"

She jerked her head up, crying.

"I don't remember. I really don't remember anything."

"I read what I wrote, but I don't remember what I did that night. My mind is blank. I'm not lying. I don't even remember you."

"When I heard he was hurt, I thought maybe I did something, which is why I forgot. I'm so scared."

"Don't cry yet. Listen to me. There's only one thing you need to do now."

She looked up, eyes blurred with tears.

"We're going to the police station. You need to tell them everything you know."

Her body stiffened.

"I..."

"Chloe, we still don't know who hurt Zachary, but I believe you wouldn't do something like that."

I gripped her hand.

"If you keep hiding and saying nothing, that's when there'll be real trouble."

"Trust the police. Let them find the truth."

Chloe bit her lip, silent for a long time, then nodded.

I accompanied Chloe to the Criminal Investigation Unit.

Chloe handed over her diary.

She explained everything from start to finish, including Zachary contacting her and the gap in her memory.

The officers' expressions changed after hearing it all.

Police further retrieved all surveillance footage from our apartment complex that night.

The footage clearly showed that Aria had indeed never left the apartment that night.

But after I fell asleep, Mrs. Patterson had visited our apartment.

She stayed in our apartment for a while, then hurriedly left the complex and took a taxi.

After a considerable amount of time, she returned looking anxious.

The officer looked at me and Chloe.

"We've made another major discovery. Zachary's ex-girlfriend---besides Ms. Chloe---there's also a woman named Rachel."

"Her mother is someone you know---this Mrs. Patterson."

I gasped.

"Mrs. Patterson?"

From the prank notes, to Mrs. Patterson from 404 bringing cake, to Chloe's amnesia after eating the cake, to Zachary's injury---didn't everything start after the cake was delivered?

My mind raced through all the recent details.

These fragmented details were like scattered beads suddenly strung together on a thread, and the other end of that thread seemed to point to the same person.

The moment this thought emerged, I felt cold all over.