The Girl Who Forgot Love

The Girl Who Forgot Love

Shelby Helliwell

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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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The new house smelled of fresh paint, a fresh start for Ava Miller, a successful tech entrepreneur, her loving husband Liam, and their two-year-old son, Leo. Her peaceful suburban dream shattered when a car pulled up, and out stepped her aunt and cousin-faces she hadn't seen since she left her old life behind. "Ava! We heard you moved into the neighborhood! What a surprise!" her aunt chirped, her voice dripping with forced sweetness. Her cousin' s sly glance past Ava signaled trouble: "We ran into Ethan Hayes's mother... She was saying how much Ethan still misses you." The name hung in the air, a poisonous cloud. Ethan Hayes, her college sweetheart, the man who publicly humiliated her by announcing his engagement to another woman at their supposed engagement party. They twisted the knife, claiming Ethan still pined for her, ignoring her cold silence, daring to suggest reconciliation. Then came the final insult, "His mother said he' s not happy with Chloe. He' s still waiting for you, Ava." A strange calm settled over Ava. The heartbroken girl they knew was dead. "I appreciate your concern," Ava said, a polite, chilling smile on her face. "But I think there's been a misunderstanding." She pulled Liam forward, her husband of two years, and gestured to Leo, playing happily in the yard. "This is my husband, Liam. And that's our son, Leo." Their smiles shattered, replaced by stunned silence. The image they held of her-the pining, discarded lover-crumbled before the woman she had become. After all this time, after all she had endured, did they truly believe she was still the same person, waiting for the man who broke her? Her past, once a painful scar, became her shield. The calm in her voice held a dangerous promise: Her life with Liam was not a misunderstanding, but a meticulously built fortress against the ghosts she had outrun.

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