The Girl Who Forgot Love

The Girl Who Forgot Love

Gavin

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I woke up disoriented, the harsh hospital lights blinding me. My parents, faces pale and strained, sat by my bedside. They said I' d had a breakdown, a public humiliation at the Spring Fling. My boyfriend, Ethan. He had betrayed me. But as they spoke, a chilling truth settled over me: I remembered the facts, but the feelings were gone. The doctors explained it as dissociative amnesia – specifically, all emotional connection to Ethan had vanished. He visited, demanding I "remember us," utterly confused, even arrogant, when I offered only polite detachment. His parents tried too, bringing mementos of our past. I felt nothing but a quiet void where love, or even anger, should have been. Everyone around me was frantic for the 'old Ava,' heartbroken and distraught. But I wasn't. There was just this calm, unsettling emptiness, like reading a sad story about a character I barely knew. Why was everyone else more upset about my memory loss than I was? Was I broken? Who was I without the girl who'd loved him so fiercely, only to be shattered? Feeling like a disconnected observer in my own life, a fraudulent smile plastered on my face, I knew I couldn't pretend anymore. I needed to find out who Ava Miller was, now. Desperate for answers, I sought professional help. And that' s when destiny, or perhaps just a very small town, intervened. My new psychologist was Liam Walker: my kind, long-lost childhood friend, whose presence felt strangely, comfortingly like home.

Introduction

I woke up disoriented, the harsh hospital lights blinding me.

My parents, faces pale and strained, sat by my bedside.

They said I' d had a breakdown, a public humiliation at the Spring Fling. My boyfriend, Ethan. He had betrayed me.

But as they spoke, a chilling truth settled over me: I remembered the facts, but the feelings were gone.

The doctors explained it as dissociative amnesia – specifically, all emotional connection to Ethan had vanished.

He visited, demanding I "remember us," utterly confused, even arrogant, when I offered only polite detachment. His parents tried too, bringing mementos of our past.

I felt nothing but a quiet void where love, or even anger, should have been. Everyone around me was frantic for the 'old Ava,' heartbroken and distraught.

But I wasn't.

There was just this calm, unsettling emptiness, like reading a sad story about a character I barely knew.

Why was everyone else more upset about my memory loss than I was? Was I broken? Who was I without the girl who'd loved him so fiercely, only to be shattered?

Feeling like a disconnected observer in my own life, a fraudulent smile plastered on my face, I knew I couldn't pretend anymore. I needed to find out who Ava Miller was, now.

Desperate for answers, I sought professional help. And that' s when destiny, or perhaps just a very small town, intervened.

My new psychologist was Liam Walker: my kind, long-lost childhood friend, whose presence felt strangely, comfortingly like home.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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