Having His Body but Never His Heart

Chandler Payne, the amnesiac boyfriend I'd taken in, held out his phone to show me a picture of himself with his fiancee. I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment.

I recognized the woman beside him instantly.

I more than recognized her.

It was Sabrina Shaw—the woman who’d stolen the life that should have been mine.

Chandler kept talking while I sat there in a daze.

He claimed Sabrina was too possessive, that the wedding was nothing more than a business arrangement between their families, and that it wasn't as though he felt nothing for me. He simply had no choice but to go back.

Then, he stroked my cheek, as if soothing a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"Even after I'm married, I can still take care of you. A woman like you is perfect to keep on the side."

I looked up at him.

Only then did I truly see him. The man who had frowned and complained whenever he was hurt, clung to me and refused to let go, and murmured my name in the middle of the night for the past two weeks had never truly cared about me.

All along, he'd only seen me as a pastime, a plaything that had caught his eye on a whim.

Suddenly, all the red flags made sense.

Chandler had claimed he couldn't remember a single thing, yet he effortlessly identified fine wines, recognized luxury watches, and handled formal table etiquette with practiced ease.

I'd suggested calling the police or putting out a missing person notice more than once. But every single time, he'd found a way to steer the conversation elsewhere.

He'd either pull me in for a kiss or act helpless and clingy, telling me he couldn't live without me.

It turned out that he hadn't been afraid of losing me.

He'd been afraid I would send him back to where he belonged, and his game would end too soon.

"So, you've been lying to me from the very beginning?" I asked.

"I wouldn't exactly call it lying," he answered easily, without a trace of guilt. "I just wanted to see if you'd take me home."

He smirked. "Turns out I had you pegged. You really are softhearted."

I said nothing.

Chandler seemed to have finally lost interest in pretending and laid the whole thing out.

He told me that he'd had a fight with Sabrina that day and driven down to the Marlow River.

That was where he'd seen me crouched on the embankment scooping up a stray cat, a bag of cheap vegetables at my feet. One look was enough to tell him how broke I was.

And that, of all things, was what caught his interest.

He looked completely at ease as he told me, like a man reminiscing about a conquest he was proud of.

His words sent a wave of disgust through me.

It turned out I hadn't taken in a man with amnesia at all. I'd been targeted by a man who lied his way into my home and then toyed with me as he pleased.

But none of that was what almost made me laugh.

It was Sabrina in the photo.

I'd been switched at birth. When I was a teenager, my adoptive mother, Nora Whitfield, fell seriously ill. While digging through her cabinet, I came across some old things that told me my background didn't add up.

After that, I quietly looked into it and learned that the Shaw family had spent years searching for their real daughter and that the daughter they raised in my place was named Sabrina Shaw.

I never went back to claim my place.

Back then, I couldn't even afford my tuition. Nora was in a hospital bed, and we were drowning in debt.

All I could think about was how to get through each day. I had nothing left over to gamble on whether a wealthy family would actually love me.

And even if I had gone back, what then?

Some things, when they came too late, might no longer be what I wanted.

What I never expected was that fate would quietly bring it all together.

And now, Chandler stood in front of me, telling me in the tone of a man doing me a favor that he had no intention of abandoning me.

"I'll come find you once the wedding is over. Don't make a scene, and don't do anything you shouldn't."

Downstairs, a pair of headlights flashed once.

He looked down to straighten his cuffs, grabbed his coat, and glanced back at me from the doorway.

"Come with me once you've thought it through."

After the door closed, I stood there for a long time.

His scent still hung in the apartment. The bed was unmade, and the oatmeal in the pot was still warm.

Just minutes ago, I was still thinking about our future.

Only now did I realize that all the love I'd given Chandler was worth less than dirt in his eyes.

I stared down at the photo I'd secretly snapped, my fingers tightening around the phone.