When Love Was a Performance

When Love Was a Performance

Julian Reid

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Ten years. That's how long I, Ava Miller, meticulously built my dream life. I left behind my past as the "notorious mean girl" Ashley King. Now, I had Chloe, the kindest best friend, and Ethan Reed, my devoted husband. We were expecting our first child, a symbol of our perfect future. Then, I found Ethan's journal. Dusty and hidden, it revealed a truth colder than ice. My husband, Ethan, wasn't just 'reborn' – he remembered a past life. A past where I, Ashley, was his enemy. He married me not for love, but to "monitor the threat." To keep an eye on me, the monster he believed lurked within. Ten years of tender kisses, shared laughter, and deep conversations were a calculated performance. He loved Chloe, always Chloe. Every "gentle" touch, every "concerned" glance, was a lie. My world shattered when, at the summer fair, he shoved my pregnant body aside to shield Chloe. He accused me, "Did you do this?" Then, a car swerved, and without a second thought, he threw himself at Chloe, his body slamming into mine. I woke up in a sterile hospital room. Our baby was gone. My heart was torn between searing grief and burning rage. How could he have been so blind, so obsessed with a phantom? So cruel. I looked at the man who destroyed everything. "I want a divorce, Ethan." This fake life ends now. I will reclaim my story.

Introduction

Ten years.

That's how long I, Ava Miller, meticulously built my dream life.

I left behind my past as the "notorious mean girl" Ashley King.

Now, I had Chloe, the kindest best friend, and Ethan Reed, my devoted husband.

We were expecting our first child, a symbol of our perfect future.

Then, I found Ethan's journal.

Dusty and hidden, it revealed a truth colder than ice.

My husband, Ethan, wasn't just 'reborn' – he remembered a past life.

A past where I, Ashley, was his enemy.

He married me not for love, but to "monitor the threat."

To keep an eye on me, the monster he believed lurked within.

Ten years of tender kisses, shared laughter, and deep conversations were a calculated performance.

He loved Chloe, always Chloe.

Every "gentle" touch, every "concerned" glance, was a lie.

My world shattered when, at the summer fair, he shoved my pregnant body aside to shield Chloe.

He accused me, "Did you do this?"

Then, a car swerved, and without a second thought, he threw himself at Chloe, his body slamming into mine.

I woke up in a sterile hospital room.

Our baby was gone.

My heart was torn between searing grief and burning rage.

How could he have been so blind, so obsessed with a phantom?

So cruel.

I looked at the man who destroyed everything.

"I want a divorce, Ethan."

This fake life ends now.

I will reclaim my story.

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