He wakes up in a house that doesn't remember him.
And every morning, it forgets him all over again.

A man with no name and no past finds himself trapped in a two-story house on the edge of nowhere — a house that resets itself every night. The furniture returns to its original place. The dust vanishes. The food in the pantry restocks. The man, however, remains — unaging, unrested, and utterly alone.

Until the house begins to speak.

Not in words, but in gestures: a rearranged bookshelf, a turned-down bed, a blinking lamp in the attic. The man realizes the house is trying to help him remember something — fragments of a life once lived, scattered like breadcrumbs between the walls. Each day, he uncovers a new piece of himself: a photo, a note, a voice on an old answering machine.

But memory is a fragile thing.
And some doors are locked for a reason.

The House That Forgot Me is a haunting, hopeful exploration of identity, grief, and the quiet spaces where memory lingers. With lyrical prose and a gently surreal atmosphere, Elias Grove weaves a story that unfolds like a dream and stays with you like a ghost.

Perfect for fans of Matt Haig's The Midnight Library, Emily St. John Mandel's Sea of Tranquility, or those who believe that places remember... even when people forget.

In this house, healing doesn't happen all at once.
It happens room by room.