Chapter 2 – The Lie I Chose to Keep

INDIE

I couldn’t breathe.

The words kept replaying in my head like a broken record.

 I’m your best friend. This is my girlfriend. This is your boyfriend.

Jesper had said it so calmly, so easily, like he wasn’t rewriting my entire life in front of me. 

Like I was some stranger who’d just wandered into the wrong hospital room. My fingers dug into the thin hospital blanket until my knuckles turned white. 

The machines beside me beeped steadily, too steady for the chaos exploding inside my chest.

Tristan Holt stood near the door, tall and still. He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t corrected anything. 

His sharp, dark eyes moved between Jesper and me, unreadable. The expensive black coat he wore looked completely out of place in the sterile white room, like he’d walked out of a different world and somehow ended up in mine.

I forced my face to stay blank. If I was going to pretend I didn’t remember anything, I had to sell it.

The door opened again. A doctor in a white coat stepped inside, clipboard in hand, followed by a nurse. He smiled the way doctors always smiled when they were about to deliver careful news.

“Miss Harlow, it’s good to see you awake and responsive,” he said. 

“We’ve run several tests. Your scans look promising, but short-term memory loss after trauma like yours isn’t uncommon. We’re going to need to monitor you closely.”

I kept my voice soft and confused. “I… don’t understand. Who are all of you?”

Jesper stepped closer to the bed, his expression warm and patient. The same expression he used when he wanted people to trust him. 

“It’s okay, Indie. We’re here. You’re safe.”

Liora stood slightly behind him, one hand resting lightly on his arm. Her smile was gentle, almost sweet. I caught the tiny flicker of satisfaction in her eyes before she looked away.

Tristan still hadn’t moved.

The doctor flipped through his notes. 

“She’ll need a calm, familiar environment once she’s discharged. Familiar faces, stable routine. Stress could slow her recovery.”

Jesper didn’t hesitate. “She should come home with her boyfriend then.” 

He glanced at Tristan. “Tristan can take care of her. He’s always been good at that.”

“Me? Why me? I mean—“

“You always do that, don't you? She’s your girlfriend—don’t forget that.”

My stomach twisted.

Tristan’s jaw tightened. A muscle jumped near his temple, the only crack in that cold, controlled face. 

For a second I thought he would refuse. I almost wanted him to. I wanted someone in this room to call out the lie for what it was.

But he didn’t.

He gave a short nod. “Fine, I’ll handle it.”

The doctor looked relieved. “Perfect. We’ll keep her overnight for observation, then she can be discharged in the morning if everything remains stable.”

Overnight. One more night in this room with the people who had just erased me.

I stared down at my hands. The IV line taped to the back of my left hand looked thin and fragile. Just like the version of my life Jesper had decided to throw away.

The doctor and nurse left after a few more instructions. The door clicked shut behind them, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Jesper exhaled and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch me. “You must be exhausted. Just rest, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

Liora moved closer too, her voice soft. “We’re just happy you’re awake. That’s all that matters.”

I looked at them both. The way Jesper’s fingers brushed against Liora’s when he thought I wasn’t watching. 

The way she leaned into him just a little too naturally. They weren’t even trying that hard to hide it anymore. They didn’t need to. In their version of the story, I was the confused girl with no memory.

Tristan remained by the window now, arms crossed, staring out at the city lights like the conversation had nothing to do with him.

I made my decision right there.

If Jesper wanted to hand me off like I was inconvenient, I would let him. I would walk straight into the lie he created and see how long he could keep smiling. I would play the lost, confused girlfriend of a man I barely knew… and I would watch every single one of them carefully.

“Okay,” I whispered, letting my voice stay small. “I’ll go with him. With… my boyfriend.”

Jesper’s shoulders relaxed. Liora’s smile widened just a fraction.

Tristan finally turned his head. His gaze met mine across the room, and for a second something unreadable passed through his eyes. 

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of nurses checking my vitals and quiet conversations I pretended not to hear. 

Jesper and Liora stayed until visiting hours ended. Tristan never sat down. He only spoke when necessary, his voice low and clipped.

When morning came, the discharge papers were ready faster than I expected. A nurse helped me change into the soft clothes Liora had brought—clothes that didn’t feel like mine. 

Everything felt wrong. The fabric, the room, the people standing around me like this was normal.

Tristan signed the papers without comment. Jesper hovered nearby, offering empty encouragement. 

Liora kept glancing between us like she was watching a performance she already knew the ending to.

Then it was time to leave.

The hallway felt longer than it should have. My legs were still weak, and Tristan walked slightly ahead, not offering his arm, not looking back. 

Jesper and Liora followed behind us until we reached the private exit where a sleek black car waited.

Jesper stepped forward like he was about to say something more, maybe another soft goodbye, but Tristan moved first. 

He opened the passenger door without a word and waited.

I slid into the seat. The leather was cool against my skin. Tristan closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and got in behind the wheel.

The engine started with a low, expensive purr.

Through the window I could still see Jesper and Liora standing on the curb. 

Jesper raised a hand in a small wave. Liora didn’t wave at all. She just watched us with that same quiet satisfaction.

Tristan pulled away from the curb. The hospital disappeared behind us. For a long moment neither of us spoke. The city moved past the windows in streaks of glass and sunlight.

Then his voice cut through the silence, low and cold.

“You and I need to talk once we’re alone.”

I kept my eyes on the road ahead, my pulse steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

He didn’t look at me. His hands stayed firm on the steering wheel, jaw set, expression carved from ice.

Whatever conversation was coming, I already knew one thing.

I wasn’t t

he only one who understood that everything about this was a lie.

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