Not a Fiancée, a Resource

Not a Fiancée, a Resource

Gavin

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"What is this, Liam?" My voice trembled, my hands shaking as I held up my phone, a text exchange between my fiancé, Liam, and a nurse flashing on the screen. It screamed, "Proceed with the 400cc draw. Chloe\'s vitals can handle it. Ethan needs it." My stomach lurched. Ethan, my beloved, sat there pale, while Liam, his best friend, dismissed my terror. "Chloe, you\'re overreacting," Liam\'s smooth voice oozed, "Ethan\'s condition is fragile. It\'s better to be safe than sorry." Safe for who? Not for me. Suddenly, years of quiet sacrifice became a crushing weight. The dizzy spells, the constant fatigue I' d blamed on stress – it wasn' t from wedding planning. It was them. My life had been systematically drained, not by love, but by parasitic manipulation. Then, a new text from Liam, meant for Ethan\'s mother, buzzed on my phone. "Don\'t worry, I\'ll make sure Chloe provides enough blood for the pre-wedding \'health buffer.\' We can\'t have Ethan looking anything less than perfect on his big day." A health buffer. My blood, my very essence, reduced to a cosmetic accessory for his wedding photos. I was a walking blood bag, not a fiancée. Just as the humiliation burned, Ethan texted from the other room, unaffected: "Liam just told me I\'m feeling faint again... One more small donation before the wedding... Can you come to the hospital tomorrow?" The audacity was breathtaking. The room spun. Black spots danced. My phone slipped, clattering to the floor. The last thing I heard was my name being called as darkness swallowed me whole. I woke to sterile white walls, a nurse informing me I was severely anemic. "You can\'t donate blood again for a very long time, if ever." It was a death sentence for my old life. And a declaration of war for a new one. I picked up my phone, ignored their frantic calls, and dialed my friend. "I'm going to find a new boyfriend."

Introduction

"What is this, Liam?" My voice trembled, my hands shaking as I held up my phone, a text exchange between my fiancé, Liam, and a nurse flashing on the screen. It screamed, "Proceed with the 400cc draw. Chloe\'s vitals can handle it. Ethan needs it."

My stomach lurched. Ethan, my beloved, sat there pale, while Liam, his best friend, dismissed my terror. "Chloe, you\'re overreacting," Liam\'s smooth voice oozed, "Ethan\'s condition is fragile. It\'s better to be safe than sorry." Safe for who? Not for me.

Suddenly, years of quiet sacrifice became a crushing weight. The dizzy spells, the constant fatigue I' d blamed on stress – it wasn' t from wedding planning. It was them. My life had been systematically drained, not by love, but by parasitic manipulation.

Then, a new text from Liam, meant for Ethan\'s mother, buzzed on my phone. "Don\'t worry, I\'ll make sure Chloe provides enough blood for the pre-wedding \'health buffer.\' We can\'t have Ethan looking anything less than perfect on his big day." A health buffer. My blood, my very essence, reduced to a cosmetic accessory for his wedding photos. I was a walking blood bag, not a fiancée.

Just as the humiliation burned, Ethan texted from the other room, unaffected: "Liam just told me I\'m feeling faint again... One more small donation before the wedding... Can you come to the hospital tomorrow?" The audacity was breathtaking.

The room spun. Black spots danced. My phone slipped, clattering to the floor. The last thing I heard was my name being called as darkness swallowed me whole. I woke to sterile white walls, a nurse informing me I was severely anemic. "You can\'t donate blood again for a very long time, if ever." It was a death sentence for my old life. And a declaration of war for a new one. I picked up my phone, ignored their frantic calls, and dialed my friend. "I'm going to find a new boyfriend."

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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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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