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On the day I turned eighteen, something was happening to my memory. The names were already starting to slip. Little by little, I would forget people. Eventually, I would even forget the person I used to be. When I got home, my parents forced me to hand over my grandmother's oval keepsake locket to Bianca, the daughter they had adopted. "Isabella, you're the older sister," Mom said. "Let your sister have it. Stop fighting with Bianca over everything. We're sick of it." I nodded. Then I went back to my room and cried all night. But when I woke up the next morning, I couldn't remember why my pillow was wet. That afternoon, I saw my fiancé, Matteo De Santis. I told him what was happening. Instead of believing me, he looked at me with even greater disgust. "Progressive amnesia? Seriously, Isabella? Are you pretending to be sick just to get my attention?" His words brought tears to my eyes. But the next day, when Matteo snapped at me across the breakfast table, I only stared at him blankly. "Who are you?" I was forgetting things faster and faster. Then, that evening, Matteo took me for a drive. He drove me somewhere empty and told me to get out. "Isabella, grab something from the trunk." I obediently got out. Matteo hit the gas. As the car sped away, he rolled down the window and sneered. "Maybe this will teach you to stop acting out. Stay here and think about what you've done." Then he drove off. I stood alone in the street, my mind completely blank. I wanted to go home. But I couldn't remember where home was. By the time the Rinaldis realized something was wrong, and by the time Matteo tore the city apart looking for me— I was already somewhere else. Not lost. Gone. On the day I turned eighteen, something was happening to my memory. Little by little, I would forget people. Eventually, I would even forget the person I used to be. When I got home, my parents forced me to hand over my grandmother's oval keepsake locket to Bianca, the daughter they had adopted. "Isabella,
