He Forgot Me, I Deleted Him
The night before our wedding, Desmond Arlington got jumped out of nowhere.
By the time I made it to the hospital, he stared at me like I was a total stranger.
Doctor said it was memory loss—some brain rattle from the hit. Temporary, supposedly.
So I went full nostalgia tour, dragging him back to all our spots, hoping something would click.
Then one day at the hospital, I caught him running his mouth with his buddy.
"Rhea's trying so hard. Doesn't that do anything for you?"
"Do what? I'm over it. Same spots, same girl. The new ones are way more fun."
"So why marry her? Just call it off and live your life."
He snapped, "Shut up. I LOVE Rhea. I'd never bail on the wedding. I'm just... pushing it back a bit."
I looked down at the test results—zero issues. Everything normal.
And that's when it hit me: you can't help a faker.