When my boyfriend, Larry, woke up from his coma after the car crash, his memory was a shattered canvas. He took one look at my best friend, Amber, and called her his fiancée. To spare his fragile brain from further trauma, I agreed to a temporary illusion: Amber would play the role of his girlfriend, and I would step into the background. A strict, temporary boundary. No physical intimacy, no real commitment—just a gentle charade until his memory returned and our lives swung back onto their proper axis. Six months passed. Larry showed no signs of getting better. Until tonight, when I was idly scrolling through a local forum on my phone and stumbled upon an anonymous cry for help. Post: [Accidentally mistook another girl for my girlfriend after an accident. Now I’ve genuinely fallen in love with her. How do I explain this to my original girlfriend?] The top comment had thousands of upvotes: [Keep playing amnesiac! It’s the ultimate win-win. You can push forward or pull back whenever you want. Even if you regret it later, you can just claim your memory suddenly came rushing back.] Below it was a tiny heart icon: “Liked by Original Poster.” I froze. When I looked up, Larry and Amber had just walked through the front door. He was carrying several heavy brown-paper grocery bags from Whole Foods, walking half a step behind her. When his eyes landed on her, the affection in his gaze was so thick, so undeniable, it practically overflowed onto the hardwood floor. The charade had long ceased to be an act. Larry had turned fantasy into reality. … “Jocelyn! You’re home so early today,” Amber said, her voice bright with easy charm as she kicked off her heels. “Larry and I just grabbed sweet butternut squash and fresh rosemary at the market. How about we whip up that cozy roasted squash and apple bisque you love?” Larry stood behind her, offering me a polite, distant nod—the kind you give a roommate’s friend you barely know—before turning toward the kitchen. Ever since Larry lost his memory, I had been forced into the humiliating role of a long-term houseguest in what was supposed to be our shared home. I was his legitimate girlfriend, yet every single day, I had to choke down bitter jealousy while watching him pour his heart out to another woman. Every time they held hands, every time he pulled her into a quiet hug in the hallway, it felt like a serrated blade sawing through my chest. I had spent six excruciating months whispering the same mantra to myself: “Just wait until his memory comes back. Everything will return to normal.” I suffered through a half-year of torture. I didn’t get his recovery. Instead, I got the soul-crushing revelation that he had fallen for Amber. Amber followed my blank stare toward the kitchen, where Larry was already busy unpacking the groceries. She leaned in close, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m so sorry, Jocelyn,” she murmured, eyes brimming with performative guilt. “It’s my fault. I’m useless—Larry still hasn’t remembered anything.” I lowered my head, a hollow, bitter laugh catching in my throat. What she didn’t understand was that you can never wake a man who is pretending to be asleep. “But don’t you worry,” she added, squeezing my forearm. “I’m keeping a close eye on him for you. I won’t let him stray.” “Right,” I swallowed down the acid rising in my throat. “I just came back to grab something. I have to head out again soon.” Inside the kitchen, Larry called out for Amber to help him prep dinner. She couldn’t rush over fast enough. “You go take care of your errands, Jocelyn!” she called over her shoulder. “When you get back, dinner will be hot and ready.” I stood frozen in the foyer, watching through the glass kitchen partition. Amber chopped garlic on the butcher block, then held her sticky fingers up to Larry’s nose. “Smell,” she teased, crinkling her nose playfuly. “Do my hands smell awful?” Larry caught her wrist, his expression melting into a helpless, adoring smile. He pressed a tender kiss to her fingertips. “Not at all. You always smell like wild honey.” They giggled and flirted, moving around each other with the effortless rhythm of a long-wedded couple. It was a scene straight out of the future I had spent four years imagining for myself. Except I wasn’t the leading lady. Assuming I had already walked out the front door, Larry casually broke the silence. “Jocelyn’s been staying in our guest room for six months now. Hasn’t she found her own apartment yet?” Amber paused, her voice faltering. “Well… no. It’s not safe for a single girl to live alone in the city, and rent around here is insanely expensive. Staying with us gives her an easy commute, and it keeps my mind at ease. Why bring it up out of nowhere?” Larry picked up a chef’s knife, his tone steady and unyielding. “I want her to move out. The three of us living together is awkward. Every time I want to touch you or be intimate, I have to worry about a third wheel in the house. Besides, I hate seeing you walk on eggshells because of her.” He set the knife down, turning to face her. “I came home planning to make your favorite skillet chicken piccata and parmesan risotto tonight. But the second you saw her, you immediately switched the menu to her cozy squash soup instead. This is your home, Amber. Why do you keep acting like the guest?” Amber went silent for a few seconds. Then, she reached up and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to his cheek. That kiss cut through my heart like an icicle. Months ago, Amber had sworn to me under oath that she would keep her distance from Larry. In front of me, she had always made a point of pulling away from his touch. But somewhere along the way, her restraint had vanished, replaced by a casual, practiced intimacy. “I know you’re trying to protect me,” Amber hummed softly against his ear. “Let’s talk about it later. Finding a good rental in this market isn’t easy.” “I’ve already looked into it,” Larry replied seamlessly. “I had a friend screen two places downtown earlier this week. Close to us, and close to her office.” Amber finally gave in. “Okay. When she comes back tonight, I’ll bring it up.” My eyes stung with hot, unshed tears. I looked around the sunlit living room—the mid-century armchair I had spent weeks hunting down, the linen curtains I’d picked out, the framed prints we had bought together at an art fair. When Larry woke up with amnesia, my status in my own home shifted from owner to unwanted visitor. My personal belongings had been quietly boxed up and shoved into the cramped, windowless guest bedroom. In just six months, Amber had systematically erased every trace of my existence from this space. And now, Larry was throwing me out entirely. The sound of their shared laughter inside the kitchen buzzed in my ears like static. I took a deep, shaky breath, turned on my heel, and slipped quietly out the front door. I didn’t go back to work. Driven by a desperate, pathetic shred of hope, I drove straight to the university hospital. “What if that forum post wasn’t Larry’s? What if his mind was still broken? What if his devotion to Amber was just a terrible byproduct of a confused brain?” “Larry Rory?” Dr. Stevens finally pulled up his medical record from a towering stack of files on his desk. “Oh, he called me three months ago for a follow-up. He told me his memory had fully returned.” The doctor paused, tapping his chin. “I remember it clearly—it was right around Thanksgiving. I even congratulated him on getting his life back just in time for the holidays.” I turned stone cold. Thanksgiving Day. I remembered it vividly. Amber’s parents had flown in from Ohio, bringing a homemade pumpkin pie and slow-roasted beef brisket. Larry had personally driven to the airport, greeted them with warmth and respect, and brought them back to the condo for a feast. That exact same afternoon, my own parents had taken a train into the city, carrying containers of my mother’s famous herb-roasted turkey and cranberry sauce for us. Larry had claimed he didn’t recognize them. He had called building security and had my parents escorted off the premises like trespassers. When I couldn’t cover for him any longer, I had broken down in tears and confessed his ‘amnesia’ to my parents. My mother had patted my hand, sighing softly: “As long as he’s alive and healthy, sweetheart. The doctor said memory takes time. We can wait.” He hadn’t been lost. He had been entirely sane. On Thanksgiving Day, Larry knew damn well he wasn’t Amber’s boyfriend. He knew I was the woman he had loved for four years, the woman he was supposed to marry. Yet, he chose to welcome Amber’s family with open arms while having mine thrown out into the cold. He had already decided to play the amnesiac for the rest of his life. Seeing my ghost-white face, Dr. Stevens frowned. “Is something wrong? Is he experiencing complications?” I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. “No. I just wanted to check… to see if the blood clot in his brain had dissolved.” Dr. Stevens offered a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. His scans were completely clear during his last checkup. He’s fully recovered. It won’t affect your upcoming wedding—or your future together.” When Larry had been in a coma for seven agonizing days, I took leave from work and stayed by his bedside without sleeping, wiping his brow and holding his cold hands. And yet, during the fifteen minutes I stepped downstairs to settle his hospital bill—asking Amber to watch his monitor briefly—Larry had opened his eyes. From that moment on, no matter how hard I pleaded, he insisted Amber was his world. Dr. Stevens had warned me back then that traumatic brain injuries made patients fragile. He had pulled me aside and said, “I know you love him, and I know you two were about to get married. Give it time. Three months at most, his memory will clear up. It won’t ruin your wedding.” How ironic. There was never going to be a wedding. Stepping into the elevator, my mind was a chaotic blur, replaying every interaction with Larry over the past ninety days. His act had been sloppy, full of plot holes. I had simply built excuses for him out of my own desperate denial. Lost in thought, I followed the crowd out of the elevator, only to realize I had stepped off at the wrong floor: Obstetrics & Gynecology. I turned to head back to the elevators, but a familiar profile caught my eye down the brightly lit corridor. Larry. He was supposed to be at home, chopping vegetables for soup with Amber. My feet acted on their own, drawing me toward the open doorway of a private consultation room. Inside, an OB/GYN was looking over a chart. “You’re pregnant. Eight weeks along,” the doctor said matter-of-factly. “Are we keeping the baby?” Before Amber could speak, Larry’s voice cut through the air, sharp with raw excitement. “Yes! Absolutely, we’re keeping it!” He grabbed the ultrasound printout from the doctor’s desk. Without waiting another second, he pulled Amber into a fierce, breathless embrace. “Did you hear that?” he laughed, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re having a baby!” He was already babbling, his mind racing ahead. “We need to get married at the courthouse right away before you start showing. I’ll call my parents tomorrow to set up a dinner. It’s rushed, I know, and I hate rushing this for you, but I promise you won’t miss out on anything. I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams.” Larry’s back was facing the hallway, but Amber was looking directly over his shoulder. Her eyes met mine. Seeing me standing there in silence, her face drained of all color. She violently pushed Larry away from her. Larry stumbled back, confused, and followed her gaze toward the door. When he saw me, a fleeting shadow of panic crossed his eyes before vanishing behind a wall of irritation. “Jocelyn? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?” he demanded, stepping forward. “What are you doing in the OB unit?” I ignored him. My eyes stayed locked on Amber, my voice dead and devoid of warmth. “You’re pregnant?” Amber dropped her head, clutching her purse against her stomach, unable to meet my eyes. Larry stepped squarely between us, his jaw set defensively. “We’re engaged. When two people are in love, accidents happen. It’s completely normal.” I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. I couldn’t tell if I was answering him or mourning myself. “Right. You two are the engaged ones now.” … On the drive back, Amber sat in the backseat next to me, her chin tucked into her chest, completely silent. Larry, in the driver’s seat, was on high alert. His eyes flicked constantly to the rearview mirror, tracking my every movement as if he feared I might lunge at his precious fiancée and strangle her. I paid them no mind. Pulling out my phone, I composed an email to my company’s HR director. “Regarding the overseas transfer to our Milan office: I accept.” During the mid-year review, corporate had announced an aggressive expansion into European markets and solicited senior engineers to relocate. Coincidentally, I was the only engineer in the regional branch who had minored in Italian during college. Before, with Larry’s recovery uncertain, I couldn’t bear the thought of a long-distance relationship. Given the choice between my career and Larry, I had chosen him. I would never make that mistake again. From now on, every decision I made would be for myself. When we pulled up to the condo, I found out why they had rushed out earlier: Amber had suffered a bout of severe morning sickness while prepping dinner. Panicked that it was a stomach bug, Larry had thrown her into the car and sped to the emergency room. Fearing the smell of seared meat would trigger her nausea again, Larry turned to me in the hallway and ordered me into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Amber gave me an anxious look. “But Larry… Jocelyn doesn’t really cook.” Larry guided her gently down onto the sofa, wrapping a fleece throw over her legs. “She can learn. You’re pregnant now, Amber. I’m not letting you slave over a hot stove anymore.” The word “pregnant” stung my ears like an open flame. I turned without a word and walked into the kitchen to clean the counter. A moment later, Larry followed me in. He shut the door behind him and turned the lock with a sharp “click”. “If anything happens to Amber or that baby because of you,” he whispered, his eyes dark with malice, “I will destroy you.” It felt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to my chest, shattering my heart into jagged shards. Cold wind seemed to blow right through the cavity. I kept my head down, scrubbing the cutting board furiously under cold water so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes. I kept my voice flat. “You’re delusional. Amber is my friend. Why would I hurt her?” Larry searched my face intensely, as if trying to gauge whether I knew about his restored memory. After a long silence, his harsh stance softened just a fraction. “I’m just saying… you two are best friends. You should be helping me take care of her right now.” I didn’t answer. Ten minutes later, Amber used the excuse of wanting artisanal gelato to call me out to the living room. When Larry stepped back into the kitchen, Amber stood before me, tears trembling on her eyelashes. I looked at her, my expression entirely numb. “When did it start?” She collapsed into tears, clutching her hands together. “It was that night we both got drunk… I swore I took emergency contraception the next morning! I don’t know what happened, Jocelyn. Maybe the pill was expired… I never meant for this to happen!” She had never mentioned a word of that night to me. I had been played like a complete fool—believing Larry was just a tragic amnesiac who needed patience, believing Amber was a loyal friend who would never betray me. They had crossed the line behind my back months ago while I was busy agonizing over his health. Suddenly, Amber dropped to her knees at my feet and slapped herself hard across the face. “I’m awful! I’m a terrible friend!” she sobbed hysterically. “I lost my mind, Jocelyn! Just say the word—say it, and I’ll go to the clinic tomorrow and terminate it!” “No need,” I said softly. Amber froze mid-sob. She raised her tear-streaked face, staring at me in utter disbelief. “What… what did you say?” I pulled my skirt out of her desperate grip. “The child is innocent.” Her eyes widened. “Then what about you? What are you going to do, Jocelyn?” Just then, the kitchen door clicked open. Larry walked out carrying a warm serving dish, catching Amber on her knees at my feet. His face flushed with instant, towering rage. He slammed the dish onto the dining table, rushed over, and yanked Amber up by her arm, pulling her protectively behind his back. “Everything I said to you went in one ear and out the other, didn’t it?!” he barked at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Amber was nice enough to let you stay under our roof, and this is how you treat her? By forcing a pregnant woman onto her knees?!” Amber caught his arm, sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s not her fault, Larry! I slipped! I fell, and Jocelyn was just trying to help me up!” Larry’s chest heaved. He smoothed Amber’s hair, attempting to compose himself, before turning his icy gaze back to me. “Fine. I won’t press charges for what just happened,” he spat out. “But you are moving out tonight.” “Larry!” Amber gasped softly. “She has to go,” Larry insisted coldly. “You’re carrying my child. I won’t have a hostile stranger living in our home.” Amber stiffened, sneaking a cautious glance at my face. “Okay,” I said. Without a single argument, I turned around, walked into the guest room, and pulled my suitcase out from under the bed. As I rolled my luggage toward the front door, Amber ran over, grabbing my arm with trembling hands. “Jocelyn, please… don’t go like this. I’ll convince Larry to let you come back tonight, I promise—” “Don’t bother,” I cut her off calmly, disengaging her fingers from my sweater. I pulled my suitcase out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind me. Standing by the elevator, I immediately dialed my real estate agent. “Mark? It’s Jocelyn Darnell. Put my downtown condo on the market. Sell it as fast as humanly possible.” Larry had lived in his amnesia fantasy for so long, he seemed to have completely forgotten: That condo wasn’t his. My parents had bought it for me with cash as a wedding gift.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “558493”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply