After a car accident, my husband and son feigned amnesia

John and Michael, my husband and son, vanished into thin air during our beach trip. After a frantic search, I finally found them. They were happily catching crabs with a local girl by the shore. Seeing my disheveled appearance, they both looked at me with puzzled expressions. "Who are you?" they asked, claiming they had amnesia. My eyes drifted downwards, catching their subtle, tell-tale signs of lying. I didn't press John, but I knelt down and asked Michael, the son I carried for nine months, if he remembered me. He denied it. Choking back tears, I asked, "You won't change your mind?" He remained firm. "No." "Alright then," I said, composing myself. "I'm going home. Back to my own home." Pushing down the rising tide of emotion, I forced my voice to sound normal. "I'm so sorry, I must have mistaken you for someone else."

I arrived at the beach breathless, clutching my knees. Not far away, two familiar figures stood out against the sand – a tall one and a small one. My husband, John, and my son, Michael, gone for three agonizing months. I rushed towards them, reaching out to tap Michael's shoulder. "Hey, Mikey, Mommy–" Before I could finish, a figure darted out and shoved me aside. "Mike, look what I found!" A young woman with braided pigtails held up a bucket. John took it naturally, beaming. "Ashley, you're amazing! You caught so many crabs!" They finally noticed me standing there, awkwardly. Ashley eyed me with suspicion. "Excuse me, Miss, who are you?"

John stepped in front of the girl, shielding her protectively. His face wore an expression of utter unfamiliarity, something I had rarely, if ever, seen. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't know you," he stated flatly. Confused, I stammered, "What's wrong? It's me, Amelia." Ashley looked questioningly at John. "John, do you know her?" I stared at John, his lips curved into a smile that shattered my hopes piece by piece. "I'm sorry, I don't." He turned to Michael. "Mike, do you know her?" Ashley gently brushed the sweat-dampened hair from my son’s forehead. Michael glanced at me and shook his head.

Three months prior, Maria, our housekeeper, had told me John was taking Michael to the beach. "Maria, could you ask John to swing by and pick me up? I'm almost done with work…" The line went dead mid-sentence. It felt like a mere notification, not a request. Since John started his own company, I'd been working around the clock, barely setting foot in our house. When I finally drove to the beach to meet them, I was met with police barricades. I saw the mangled wreckage of our familiar SUV. The police were called, but there was no news. The discovery of the wreckage by the seaside seemed to confirm the worst. They were most likely gone. Everyone told me to accept my loss and move on. For three months, I couldn't bear to go home, afraid of the constant reminders of John and Michael. I slept at the office, not only to stay on top of the mounting workload but also to be readily available for any updates. When...