My love My life

I opened my eyes to a sterile hospital room after three years in a coma, a miracle, Dr. Reed called me. My memory, a slow agonizing puzzle, was finally whole. I remembered everything.

The first person I saw wasn' t my fiancé, Mark. It was my old professor, Dr. Reed, holding my hand, her face a mix of relief and concern.

Mark Harrison was waiting at the entrance of our house, looking older, his face etched with ambition, not grief. He didn' t rush to hug me, didn' t even smile.

"Ava," he said, his voice flat. "You're back."

Then she emerged: Chloe Davis, my old rival, now standing on my doorstep with a triumphant smile, her arm wrapped around Mark' s. On her wrist, my patented smartwatch gleamed.

"Chloe has been a rock for me," Mark announced, looking at her with practiced adoration. "We're engaged."

A month after my car crash – a supposed accident – he was engaged. A month after that, her company acquired a crucial patent from my firm.

From inside, Spark, my AI companion, spoke. Its warm, inquisitive voice now clipped, devoted to Chloe. My home, stripped of my art, my books, everything that was me.

"Chloe has taken over the company and our lives," Mark snarled, his patience gone. "You'll just have to accept it." He expected tears, but I felt only relief.