My wife always said she hated clutter.

Every drawer in the house was perfectly organized.

That made it even stranger when I found a silver key taped beneath her desk drawer while searching for a flashlight.

There was nothing attached to it.

No keychain.

Only the number 214 stamped into the metal.

I asked her about it that evening.

She barely looked at it.

"Oh... I forgot that was there."

Then she quickly changed the subject.

Something felt wrong.

The next afternoon, curiosity got the better of me.

I searched online until I found an apartment building across town.

Apartment 214.

The key fit perfectly.

The apartment was almost empty.

No furniture.

No personal belongings.

Only a single framed photograph sitting on the windowsill.

I picked it up.

It showed me.

Standing in a park.

Smiling beside a little girl.

My wife stood behind us.

I couldn't remember that day.

I couldn't remember the girl.

Suddenly, the apartment door opened.

My wife stood there.

She wasn't angry.

She looked relieved.

"I knew you'd find it eventually."

I held up the photograph.

"Who is she?"

She took a slow breath.

"The truth isn't what you think."

I waited.

She walked closer.

Then quietly whispered,

"Before we met..."

"...you lost more than your memory."

END.