Woke Up A Stranger, Found My Love

Woke Up A Stranger, Found My Love

Gavin

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I woke up in a hospital, my past a blank beyond my 18th year. The doctor said I was 27, even a talented architect, and married. But the woman they introduced as my wife, Sophia, was a cold, stunning stranger. She looked at me with thinly veiled contempt. She spoke of my nine lost years as a descent into breakdowns and "pathetic" dependence. My supposed best friend, Ethan Vance, was her true confidante, a smirking rival. Disgust curdled in my gut. This wasn't me. My 18-year-old self, full of ambition and drive, recoiled from this emasculated shadow of a man they described. How could I have become a "kept man," constantly ridiculed, chasing the approval of an ice queen? The humiliation was palpable, preserved in flashed cameras and casual insults. But this amnesia, this blank slate, felt like a gift. It stripped away the years of self-erasure, leaving behind only the core of who I was. And that core wanted nothing to do with this suffocating, demeaning life. "I want a divorce," I told her, my voice surprisingly firm. "The me I know wouldn't be married to someone who calls him pathetic." This was no act, no episode. This was me, fighting to reclaim a life I didn't remember. A life free from the woman who claimed to be my wife and the rival who wanted me utterly destroyed. Little did I know, the fight for my true identity would lead to a bloody confrontation and a shocking revelation that would change everything.

Introduction

I woke up in a hospital, my past a blank beyond my 18th year.

The doctor said I was 27, even a talented architect, and married.

But the woman they introduced as my wife, Sophia, was a cold, stunning stranger.

She looked at me with thinly veiled contempt.

She spoke of my nine lost years as a descent into breakdowns and "pathetic" dependence.

My supposed best friend, Ethan Vance, was her true confidante, a smirking rival.

Disgust curdled in my gut.

This wasn't me.

My 18-year-old self, full of ambition and drive, recoiled from this emasculated shadow of a man they described.

How could I have become a "kept man," constantly ridiculed, chasing the approval of an ice queen?

The humiliation was palpable, preserved in flashed cameras and casual insults.

But this amnesia, this blank slate, felt like a gift.

It stripped away the years of self-erasure, leaving behind only the core of who I was.

And that core wanted nothing to do with this suffocating, demeaning life.

"I want a divorce," I told her, my voice surprisingly firm.

"The me I know wouldn't be married to someone who calls him pathetic."

This was no act, no episode.

This was me, fighting to reclaim a life I didn't remember.

A life free from the woman who claimed to be my wife and the rival who wanted me utterly destroyed.

Little did I know, the fight for my true identity would lead to a bloody confrontation and a shocking revelation that would change everything.

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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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