The Fiancée Who Forgot Me

The Fiancée Who Forgot Me

Gavin

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The world tilted, and then went black for a second. I came to with Jess screaming my name after a cyclist hit me, and I pulled her to safety. At the hospital, with a mild concussion, I had a stupid idea: I' d pretend I had amnesia and ask Jess, "Who are you?" Her eyes widened, but then a strange, unreadable expression flickered across her face. With a voice suddenly too sweet, she leaned in and said, "Oh, Ethan, you don' t remember me? I' m Jessica, and Chloe is actually your fiancée. We were just out as friends." My mind went blank, not from the concussion, but from genuine shock. Chloe? Her best friend Chloe? Jess was selling it hard, claiming I'd been "confused" even before the accident and that Chloe was my true love. This wasn' t funny anymore; a cold feeling started in my stomach. She insisted Chloe take me home, citing that familiarity would aid my "recovery." As I lay in Chloe' s unfamiliar bed, the scent of vanilla filling the air, I realized Jess wasn't just playing along; she was hijacking my prank for her own twisted agenda. Then, I overheard her on the phone: she called me "boring" and "clingy," bragging about using Chloe as a "break" so she could see her old flame, Mark. The raw ache in my chest had nothing to do with the concussion; it was the sting of deliberate, cruel dismissal. My fiancée was throwing me away, deliberately and publicly, to pursue someone else. Why was Chloe, this quiet, uncomfortable stranger, going along with Jess' s insane scheme? My anger hardened, but so did a new resolve: if Jess wanted a break, she' d get one, but it would be entirely on my terms. I would expose her lies, one "amnesiac" step at a time.

Introduction

The world tilted, and then went black for a second.

I came to with Jess screaming my name after a cyclist hit me, and I pulled her to safety.

At the hospital, with a mild concussion, I had a stupid idea: I' d pretend I had amnesia and ask Jess, "Who are you?"

Her eyes widened, but then a strange, unreadable expression flickered across her face.

With a voice suddenly too sweet, she leaned in and said, "Oh, Ethan, you don' t remember me? I' m Jessica, and Chloe is actually your fiancée. We were just out as friends."

My mind went blank, not from the concussion, but from genuine shock.

Chloe? Her best friend Chloe?

Jess was selling it hard, claiming I'd been "confused" even before the accident and that Chloe was my true love.

This wasn' t funny anymore; a cold feeling started in my stomach.

She insisted Chloe take me home, citing that familiarity would aid my "recovery."

As I lay in Chloe' s unfamiliar bed, the scent of vanilla filling the air, I realized Jess wasn't just playing along; she was hijacking my prank for her own twisted agenda.

Then, I overheard her on the phone: she called me "boring" and "clingy," bragging about using Chloe as a "break" so she could see her old flame, Mark.

The raw ache in my chest had nothing to do with the concussion; it was the sting of deliberate, cruel dismissal.

My fiancée was throwing me away, deliberately and publicly, to pursue someone else.

Why was Chloe, this quiet, uncomfortable stranger, going along with Jess' s insane scheme?

My anger hardened, but so did a new resolve: if Jess wanted a break, she' d get one, but it would be entirely on my terms.

I would expose her lies, one "amnesiac" step at a time.

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My wedding to Ethan, the man I’d loved for five years, was weeks away. Everything was set for our future, a beautifully planned life together. Then the call came: Ethan’s high school sweetheart, Chloe, was found with severe amnesia, still believing she was his girlfriend. Ethan postponed our wedding, asked me to pretend to be his brother Liam’s girlfriend, insisting it was "for Chloe’s sake." I endured quiet agony watching him relive their past, his every loving gesture now for her. Chloe’s Instagram became a public shrine to their "rekindled" love, #TrueLove emblazoned everywhere. I even found a groundbreaking clinic for Chloe, hoping for an end, but Ethan brushed it off. Then, I overheard him: I was just a "placeholder," a "good sport" who would wait, because I had "nowhere else to go." Five years of my life, my love, my loyalty, reduced to a disposable convenience. The cold, calculated betrayal punched the air from my lungs. He thought I was trapped, that he could use me at will, then return to me, expecting gratitude. Numb, I stumbled. And then, I met Liam, Ethan’s quiet brother. "I need to get married, Liam. To someone. Soon." The words escaped me. Liam, who had watched silently, responded: "What if I said I'd marry you, Ava? For real." A dangerous, desperate plan ignited within me, fueled by pain and a fierce desire for reckoning. "Alright, Liam," I declared, a new resolve hardening my voice. "But I have conditions: Ethan must be your Best Man, and he must give me away at the altar." The charade was about to begin, but now, it was on my terms. And Ethan had no idea the bride was truly me.

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