Forgotten Fireworks, Forgotten You

Seven years into my relationship with Tina, I realized I was trapped in a slow, silent punishment.

Every time she chose her childhood friend, Lucas, over me, a piece of the evidence that I had loved her was stripped from my mind.

The first time it happened, she left to spend Lucass birthday with him, and I woke up unable to recall the first time she and I had ever held hands.

The second time, she put his name on a project proposal I had pulled all-nighters to write. When I woke up the next morning, the memory of the pouring rain on the night she confessed her love to me was gone.

For our seventh anniversary, she booked a private fireworks display by the waterfront, plastering it all over social media for everyone to see.

But when her call came through, urging me to hurry, I was sitting alone in the office breakroom, staring blankly at the unsaved number flashing on my screen.

Stop playing around, she said, her voice sharp. You know exactly what day it is.

Beside her, someone chuckled. Tina, is your boyfriend throwing a fit again?

She sighed, her impatience cutting through the receiver. Hes always like this. The more important the day, the harder he tries to make a scene.

I watched the fireworks burst against the night sky outside the window. There was no jealousy in my chest, no dull ache of betrayal.

I simply asked, quite sincerely, Im sorry, but who is this?

When the phone rang a second time, I handed it to the receptionist, asking politely, Do you know whose number this is?

The receptionist blinked, staring at the screen that read Tina. Uh, Thomas, thats Tina. Your girlfriend.

I stared at the name. My fingers pressed against the rim of my mug, the heat from the coffee barely registering. I don't have a girlfriend, I said.

The call connected, and Tinas voice came through, sharp and hushed. Thomas, cut it out. The fireworks are almost over. Get down here.

In the background, a man offered a soft, mocking chuckle. Dont be so hard on him, Tina. Thomas is probably just jealous.

Tina sounded as if she had pulled the phone slightly away, though she made no effort to hide her words from me. He always does this. The more you humor him, the more entitled he gets.

I brought the phone back to my ear. Ms. Shen, if youre a client, please go through the proper channels. If not, please stop calling me.

There was a cold, heavy silence on the other end. Then, a sharp laugh. You still remember my last name, yet youre pretending you don't know who I am?

I didn't answer. I hung up and blocked the number.

The receptionist stared at me, bewildered. Thomas, haven't you two been together for seven years?

That number, seven, echoed in my mind, but it brought nothing with it. It was as if someone had pulled every photograph out of an album, leaving behind nothing but empty plastic sleeves.

On my desk sat a blank leather album I had uncovered from my locker earlier that afternoon. The cover was worn, but the pages inside were painfully clean. Each sleeve had a tiny numbered sticker in the corner, from one to seven.

I had asked my colleagues if it belonged to me. They laughed, saying of course it did, and reminded me that I put a new photo in it every single anniversary.

Yet, when I searched my phone, I couldn't find a single photograph of Tina.

When I left the building, Tina was waiting by the entrance, holding a sleek silver gift box. Her tense expression softened slightly when she saw me, and she reached out, grabbing my wrist. Alright, lets go. Im here to pick you up.

I looked down at her hand. Let go of me.

She didn't. Instead, she pushed the silver box into my arms. This is for you. Happy seventh anniversary. Lucas said the watch from this fireworks collection was stunning, so I had them reserve a set for us.

I didn't hold onto it. The box slipped from my grip, hitting the concrete with a dull thud. A delicate silver necklace slid out, its pendant shaped like a tiny, intricate firework.

The receptionist, who was walking out behind me, gasped softly.

Tinas face darkened instantly. Thomas, do you really have to humiliate me in public?

I bent down, picked up the box, and handed it back to her. This isn't mine.

She stared at me for several seconds, then let out a dry laugh. Youre getting really good at this act. Before, when I was an hour late, youd ignore me for two days at most. How long are you planning to stretch it this time?

Lucas stepped out of her car, wrapped in her gray scarf. Thomas, Im so sorry, he said, his voice laced with practiced fragility. I wasn't feeling well today, so Tina took me to the clinic first. She only put together the fireworks show because she was worried youd be upset.

I looked at the scarf around his neck. It was a deep charcoal gray, with a crooked, hand-stitched 'T' in the corner.

He noticed my gaze and touched the wool lightly. Oh, this? Tina said it was just sitting in her car collecting dust, so she told me to wear it.

Tina stepped closer, pulling the scarf tighter around his neck. He has a cold, Thomas. Stop staring at him.

I asked quietly, What does that letter mean?

Tina froze for a fraction of a second before recovering her cold composure. Nothing. Just an old rag.

An old rag.

My fingertips brushed the cover of the empty photo album in my bag, and a fleeting, disjointed image flickered in my mind. A cold winter night, someone clumsily threading a needle, promising that we would fill this album with a new photo every year, and on the seventh, wed finally get married.

But before the face in the memory could clear, Lucas let out a soft, dry cough.

Tina immediately let go of my wrist, turning to support him. Get in the car first, she murmured. Then she looked back at me, her voice commanding. Thomas, stop making a scene. Bring the album tomorrow. Ill help you remember everything.

Before the car door clicked shut, Lucas caught my eye through the window, his fingers resting deliberately over the stitched 'T'.

When I brought the empty album into the conference room the next morning, Tina was busy adjusting the projector height for Lucas.

Lucas, cradling his laptop, smiled up at me. Thomas, youre here. Tina mentioned you were originally running this project. I was worried I wouldn't present it well, so I was hoping you could back me up today.

I slipped the album into my bag and pulled out a chair. Why is his name on my proposal?

Tinas finger paused on the remote control. Her voice was flat. Lucas is up for a promotion, and he needs a strong portfolio piece to show the board. Your position is secure, Thomas. You don't need this one victory.

I stared at the title slide. The strategy was the result of seven straight nights of my life, but the footer now read: Presented by Lucas.

The department head tried to smooth things over. Come on, Thomas, you and Tina are practically family. Don't sweat the small stuff. The kid needs a break.

Lucas quickly pushed his laptop toward me. How about I do the opening, Thomas, and you handle the core strategy? Youll still get all the credit.

Tina frowned slightly. He claims he can't even remember who I am. What is he going to present?

A few people in the room snickered. The sound was soft, but it felt like a needle pricking the back of my neck.

I stood up and unplugged the projector cable. If Im not fit to present it, then this proposal isn't fit to be used.

Tina grabbed my wrist, her grip firm enough to keep me from moving the cable. Thomas, professional meetings are not the place to vent your personal frustrations.

I looked down at her hand. You said last night youd help me remember.

Her eyes softened a fraction. Lets get through the meeting first. This afternoon, Ill take you to the old art studio where we had our first date.

Lucass laser pointer slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the table. He leaned down to retrieve it, his voice dropping to a fragile whisper. Tina, my stomach is acting up again. I think I forgot to take my medication this morning.

Tina immediately let go of my wrist. Where is it?

Probably in the car, Lucas murmured. I can go get it myself.

But she was already grabbing her coat. Ill go with you.

I stood in front of the door, holding out the printed copies of the proposal. Before you leave, change the name back.

Tina looked at the papers, refusing to take them. Thomas, don't force me to say things that will embarrass you in front of everyone.

You already have, I said.

She brushed past me, her shoulder clipping my bag. The empty photo album tumbled out, hitting the floor and sprawling open.

A yellowed sticky note slipped out from the first page. It was her handwriting: Year One. Under the fireworks, I promise: Tina will always choose Thomas first.

The room fell dead silent.

Lucas picked up the note, his eyes instantly welling with tears. Oh... so this was yours, Thomas? Im so sorry. I thought Tina wrote this for me years ago. No wonder she told me yesterday that the old promise didn't count anymore.

Tinas expression shifted. Lucas.

He quickly covered his mouth, looking horrified. Im sorry. I shouldn't have said that.

I took the note back from him. What does that mean?

Tina avoided my gaze. It was just a silly joke.

Was the scarf a joke too? I asked.

Her patience finally snapped. Thomas, an old scarf, a dusty note, do you really have to cross-examine me over every little piece of the past?

The department head cleared his throat. The clients will be here any minute. Thomas, maybe you should step outside and cool off.

I looked at the faces around the table. They all knew whose work that proposal was. They knew Tina and I had been together for seven years. Yet every single one of them was waiting for me to back down.

Lucas hovered by the doorway, offering a soft, conciliatory murmur. Thomas, why don't we put both our names on it? Having you as the co-author still looks great.

I let out a quiet laugh and closed the album. No need.

Tinas shoulders relaxed slightly, as if she believed I had finally come to my senses. She reached out to smooth my lapel. Ill see you this afternoon at the studio. Ill help you remember.

I stepped back, avoiding her touch. Ms. Shen, your clients have arrived. You should get on stage with Lucas.

The clients walked in, and Lucas immediately took his place at the podium. Tina cast one last look at me before stepping up beside him, clicking the remote to display the first slide.

A text from an unknown number buzzed on my phone: Want to know the third thing you forgot? Go to the old art studio. Don't bring Tina.

When I walked into the dusty studio, the elderly owner looked up, surprised. Youre finally here to pick up the painting, he said.

I hesitated. What painting?

He dragged a long cardboard tube from beneath the counter, blowing the dust off it. The fireworks landscape you and Tina painted seven years ago. You told me you were saving it for your proposal on your anniversary. Actually, Tina was here a few weeks ago. She wanted to alter the signature.

My grip on the tube tightened. Altered to what?

The owner glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. To some young fellow named Lucas. He said those fireworks were where his and Tinas story began.

The bell above the door chimed. Tina pushed her way in, followed by Lucas and a few colleagues from the firm.

She frowned when she saw the tube in my hand. Who told you to come here alone?

Lucas stepped forward, his eyes bright with false excitement. Oh, the painting is here! Tina has been looking for this everywhere. She wanted to display it at my promotion party.

I looked at Tina. Is this painting not mine?

She remained silent for a long moment before reaching out and taking the tube from my hand. Its just a silly college sketch, Thomas. It doesn't matter who uses it.

The studio owner spoke up, indignant. How does it not matter? Thomas painted the entire skyline back then. Tina only painted that tiny silhouette at the bottom.

The colleagues began whispering among themselves.

Lucass face paled, and he stammered, I... I didn't know. Tina just told me this painting meant a lot to her. I thought she wanted me to have it.

Tina pulled the yellowed canvas from the tube. In the corner of the painting, under the bursting colors, were two small figures, one in a white dress, the other holding a camera. In the signature block, the name Thomas had been lightly rubbed away with an eraser, and the name Lucas had been faintly penciled over it.

I stared at the smudged canvas. A sudden image flashed in my mind: a hand covered in bright acrylic paint, holding mine, a warm voice whispering, Were using this when we propose. Nobody else gets to touch it.

Sensing my silence, Tinas voice softened. Thomas, you forgot anyway, didn't you? If its gone, let it go. Were trying to start over here, but you have to give me a way to reach you.

I looked up at her. And starting over means erasing my name?

Lucass eyes filled with tears again. Thomas, please don't misunderstand. The party is starting soon, and Tina just didn't want me to go up there empty-handed. I never wanted to steal whats yours.

The department head chimed in. Thomas, youre not in the right headspace. Don't make a scene in front of the clients. Lucas just landed a massive account. He needs this night to go smoothly.

Tina handed the canvas to her assistant. Get this framed.

I reached out to stop him, but Tina caught my hand. Her voice was a low, urgent whisper that only I could hear. Don't do this to me, Thomas. Lucas cannot afford any mistakes tonight.

Lucas was always the one who couldn't afford to make mistakes.

I pulled my hand back, my fingernail dragging across the edge of the canvas, leaving a thin, white scratch.

Tinas eyes flashed with annoyance. Thomas, this childish behavior has to stop.

The celebration was held in the small hall right next to the studio.

Lucas stood before the framed painting, giving a speech about how the fireworks symbolized his journey and the deep trust Tina had placed in him.

As the room erupted into applause, Tina stood right behind him, adjusting his microphone with an encouraging smile.

Two guests near me whispered, Tina really treats Lucas differently. Even with Thomas losing his memory, she still puts Lucas first.

The other laughed quietly. Seven years doesn't mean a thing. At the end of the day, the one who gets chosen is the winner.

I sat in the corner, holding the empty album, turning the pages one by one.

The second page was empty, but on the third, there was a torn piece of an old medical receipt from three years ago. The clinics name was listed, and the department read: Cognitive Evaluation, Initial Consultation.

Before I could read the doctor's name, Tina walked over and snatched the paper from my hand. This is garbage, she said coldly.

I looked up. I was going to the hospital three years ago?

She folded the receipt into her palm. You were under a lot of stress back then. I took you for a check-up, and the doctor said you were fine.

Lucas strolled over, holding a glass of juice. His eyes lingered on her closed hand as he murmured, Tina, Dr. Harris just asked if you were still planning to bring Thomas in for his follow-up tomorrow.

Tinas expression hardened. Lucas.

He instantly shut his mouth.

A cold sensation crept up my spine as I looked at the two of them. Dr. Harris. Follow-up. Original plan.

The gallery lights illuminated the stolen painting. As I looked down, I saw a slip of paper peeking out from Tinas coat pocket. It was an appointment card. The patient's name was mine, but the notes section had only three words: Stimulus-Induced Recall.

When I slid the appointment card back into Tinas pocket, Lucas was kneeling on the carpet, carefully tying the delicate leather straps of her heels.

She sat on the sofa, her emerald dress brushing his wrist. Lucas looked up, his voice barely a whisper. Tina, what if Thomas sees us? Won't he be upset?

Tina didn't look away from me as I approached, though her foot remained in his hands. He doesn't remember anything anyway. Why would he care?

I stood by the door. Im coming to the appointment tomorrow.

Her hand paused on her cufflink, then she stood up, smoothing her skirt. I was planning on taking you anyway, Thomas. I told you, Im going to help you remember us.

Lucas bit his lip. But the doctor said we need familiar faces and settings. Shouldn't I come too? Ive been there for almost everything these past few years.

I looked at Tina. Why was he there?

She avoided my eyes, picking up my album. Because youve forgotten too much. I can't explain it all on my own. Lucas is observant. He can fill in the blanks.

The next day in the consultation room, Dr. Harris flipped through my files, his expression grave. Thomass memory loss isn't just a simple case of stubbornness. Severe emotional distress will only worsen these blackouts. Ms. Shen, I warned you before: do not use substitute stimuli.

I looked at Tina. What is a substitute stimulus?

Tina cut in, her voice clipped. Doctor, his mood has been highly unstable lately. Please just get to the point.

Dr. Harris sighed. It refers to taking his personal milestones or keepsakes, handing them to someone else, and making him watch. It forces his brain to actively shut down to avoid the pain of betrayal.

Lucas, sitting on the adjacent chair, clutched the edge of his shirt. Doctor, isn't that a bit dramatic? Tina was just trying to show him what he was missing.

Show me.

The memories of the gray scarf, the fireworks painting, the stolen proposal, none of it had been an accident.

Tina reached out and took my wrist, her voice softening. Thomas, don't look at me like that. You were becoming so hypersensitive back then. I only did it to help you accept reality, to stop treating everyone around me like an enemy.

I looked at her. So you knew I would forget?

She was silent for a beat. I knew youd be hurt. I didn't think youd actually forget.

Dr. Harris pushed a consent form across the desk. I do not recommend proceeding today. Unless Thomas consents, we cannot perform the situational stimulus.

Tina reached for the pen. Ill sign for him.

I pressed my hand flat against the paper. No.

Her brow furrowed. Thomas, don't you want to remember me?

Lucas chimed in, his eyes red. Thomas, Tina canceled two board meetings and went to so much trouble to gather all these things for you. Don't throw her effort back in her face.

I stared at Tina. Her eyes held exhaustion, but beneath it lay a deep, unwavering certainty. She was absolutely certain that I was just throwing a tantrum. She believed that once the past was laid out before me, I would crawl right back into my place.

Outside the office, her assistant knocked gently on the glass. Ms. Shen, the waterfront venue is ready. The pyrotechnics team wants to know if they should proceed with the seven-year proposal script.

The proposal script.

My fingertips went numb. It felt as if a heavy velvet curtain had been violently ripped away inside my mind.

The rain from seven years ago, the smell of acrylic paint in the studio, the clumsy stitch on the charcoal-gray wool, and her voice whispering under a canopy of light: On our seventh year, youre going to marry me.

The memories rushed back.

But as they flooded my mind, they brought no warmth, only a profound, chilling detachment. The woman standing in front of me had taken every promise she ever made me, stripped them down, handed the pieces to another man, and then brought me the ruins to prove she still cared.

Tina didn't notice the shift in my eyes. She let out a long breath, looking as though she had finally won. Perfect. Thomas, lets go to the waterfront. Ill give you the proposal we missed. Once you see the fireworks, I know youll remember.

Lucass face drained of color, his fingers desperately clutching her sleeve. Tina, let me come too. Just in case Thomas gets overwhelmed, I can help explain the details.

Tina hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. Alright. Come with us.

I looked down, letting out a quiet, humorless laugh. I reached into my bag, tore the very last page out of the photo album, and slipped it into my coat pocket.

The wind off the river was freezing.

In the middle of the decorated deck stood the stolen fireworks painting, flanked by the gray scarf, the silver necklace, and seven empty photo frames.

Tina handed a small velvet box to Lucas. Hold onto this. Give it to me when the first firework goes off.

Lucas took the box, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Of course.

She turned back to me, holding her hand out. Thomas, enough. Walk with me to the painting.

I looked at her open palm, then at the ring box in Lucass hand, and finally at the sky where the first launch was about to ignite.

Tina finally sensed the eerie stillness in my demeanor. Her brow furrowed. Thomas? Did you... did you remember something?

I didn't answer her. Instead, I reached out, took the velvet box from Lucass hands, and clicked it open.

Engraved on the inner band of the platinum ring were two letters.

They weren't S & T. They were S & L.

Lucas lunged forward to grab it, his voice trembling. Thomas, don't touch that! Its just a prop for the ceremony!

I snapped the box shut and handed it back to Tina.

Here is your prop. And here is your co-star.