All Chapters of Chasing my Bestfriend × Lover: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

ADRIAN'S POVThe fluorescent hum of the International Medical Expo still felt wrong, an alien sensory assault that grated against my new, meticulously constructed identity. My name was Adrian, or so I was told by the doctors, the therapists, the kind-faced woman who held my hand through the darkest fog of amnesia. But for the past few weeks, I’d been living as Gabe, a name chosen for its stark simplicity, a deliberate severance from the ghost of a past I couldn’t touch.Yet, here he was. Damien. The man who had introduced himself with a gentle, wounded smile, claiming to be my best friend, my past self’s confidant, before the hypnotherapy session had ‘messed up’. He had looked at me with such profound hurt when I’d uttered the words, “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.” A part of my heart, a sliver I couldn't quite pinpoint, had twisted in a pang of guilt. It was a phantom ache, similar to the dull throb that often accompanied my attempts to bridge the chasm of my forgotten life.Because I

DAMIEN'S POVGayle was on her feet in an instant, her eyes narrowed at me, a silent warning. “Damien, what the hell are you doing?” she hissed, her voice low but laced with steel. She moved swiftly, placing herself between me and Adrian, a protective shield.Adrian, merely looked from Gayle to me, his brow furrowed in genuine perplexity. “Gayle? What’s going on? Who is…?” His voice trailed off, a hesitant question mark hanging in the air. It was a dagger to my chest, hearing him not know my name, but I hardened my resolve. This was the consequence of my own idiocy.“Stay out of this, Gayle,” I growled, my voice rougher than I intended. My eyes darted around, noting the watchful, almost hostile gazes of Adrian’s new friends – Sarah, a petite woman with fiery red hair, and a burly man named Mark, who looked ready to spring. They were loyal. I could respect that. I’d have been the same, once upon a time, protecting Adrian from anyone, even himself.Gayle, however, was clearly not intimi

DAMIEN'S POV The cool breeze of the late afternoon in Provence rustled through the lavender fields, carrying the distant scent of wild thyme. I sat on a weathered stone bench, partially hidden by a sprawling cypress tree, my gaze fixed on the small, sun-drenched cottage down the winding path. Adrian. He was there, tending to a small patch of sunflowers, his movements fluid, unburdened. A faint smile touched his lips as he straightened, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He looked… content. And it tore me apart.Every day was a silent penance. I spent hours, sometimes entire afternoons, simply observing him. Not intruding, not even letting him know I was there. He needed space, I told myself, space to breathe, space to heal, space to slowly, organically, piece together the shattered mosaics of his past. My past. Our past. I yearned to rush to him, to explain everything, to apologize until my voice gave out, but I couldn't. Not yet. Not when his mind was a delicate, untamed landscap

ADRIAN'S POVThe purr was barely a whisper, a vibrating reassurance against my palm. The tiny creature, swaddled in a clean white towel, twitched its whiskers, its patched-up leg bandaged neatly. “You did it, buddy,” I mumbled, my voice rough with relief. “You’re going to be okay.”A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump. “See? I told you she’d pull through.” Damien. His voice was a low rumble, always too close, too certain. From the moment he’d appeared in my life, a few weeks ago, he’d been an unsettling presence. I’d found him creepy. He seemed to materialize out of nowhere wherever I went—the grocery store, the park, even the small, independent bookstore where I spent my mornings. He’d insistence that we were "best friends," that we used to be "inseparable," felt like a bad joke. My mind, a blank slate before I’d arrived in Norway with my freshly-minted identity of Gabe, offered no familiarity. All I had was the fragmented advice from the doctor

DAMIEN'S POVThe snow outside Adrian’s window was a gentle whisper against the glass, but inside me, a storm raged. My knuckles were white, clutching the steering wheel of my parked car, the engine off, the air thick with my silent fury. Just moments ago, I’d watched Gayle, open the door to his house. Nothing unusual there, not really. But then, another man had stepped in, a stranger with a confident smile entered Adrian’s sanctuary.My breath hitched. Who was he? Why was he there? My mind reeled back to a time when I was the one Adrian welcomed inside without a second thought, the one whose presence was a silent understanding. Now, I was reduced to a voyeur, a shadow across the street, watching my past slip further from my grasp.It took a Herculean effort, a crushing weight of self-control, to stop myself from storming across the street, pounding on that door, and demanding answers. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to intervene, to protect Adrian, even though I knew the prote