s said tasted like home. I walked down the sterile white hallway of the hospital, my heels clicking softly on the polished floor. A smile tou

ur memories from him. He looked at me, his fiancée, like a stranger. But I had been patient, bringing him photo

jar. I heard voices from inside and paused, not

e, playful and laced with laughter, drifted

ood frozen, my hand hov

nfusion and vulnerability he' d shown me for weeks. "She was getting so clingy, talk

throat. I couldn't mo

asked. "You just keep playing th

devoted, she' ll eat it up. Then I' ll 'miraculously' get my memory back, and she' ll be so gr

s Chloe Davis, a girl from his of

ice dropping low. I heard a soft, wet s

g chill that spread from my hands through my entire body. I felt a wave of nausea so strong I had to lean against

d what about Olivia? She' s a good photographer, but so sensitive. It'

rogant certainty that made my stomach clench. "Our whole relationsh

ion of my life crumbled into dust. He didn't just betray me; he

wanted to escape from, while still holding the key. M

cut through the shock.

blouse slightly rumpled. Liam' s face, which had been a mask of

stammered,

bed and set down the container of stew. My hands were s

t somethin

eks. The charming, manipulative stranger. The man who faked lo

e' d slid onto my finger on a beach at sunset, felt like a shackle

ifting into a look of panic. "Liv, wait.

uge freelance gig, a career-making opportunity, but it was overseas for six months. He begged me not to go. He said he couldn't live without me. He proposed that n

g in my palm, then at his panicked face. All that sac

the still-warm container of

id, the words feeling

of my heels on the floor a declaration. I left Olivia White, the devoted fiancée, in that hospital room. So

st friend. "Sarah," I said, my voice b

every platform, and hailed a cab, leaving