Almost yours

ch-2 The Wrong Boyfriend

For a few seconds, no one said anything.

Not me.

Not my actual boyfriend.

Not my best friend.

And definitely not the man who had just been introduced as my boyfriend.

He stared at his best friend as if he had lost his mind.

“What did you just say?”

His voice was low.

Dangerously low.

My actual boyfriend gave him a look.

A very specific look.

The kind that clearly said, Just go with it.

Unfortunately, his best friend didn’t seem interested.

“We need to talk.”

“Later.”

“Now.”

My best friend quickly stepped between them.

“She just woke up. Don’t fight here.”

Interesting.

She sounded nervous.

My boyfriend sighed and looked at me.

“Just rest.”

I smiled sweetly.

“But my boyfriend just arrived.”

The man in black looked at me.

If looks could kill, I would probably need another hospital bed.

“What?” I asked innocently.

He said nothing.

My eyes shifted toward my real boyfriend.

He wasn’t jealous.

Not even slightly.

That bothered me.

Three years together, and he had just handed me over to another man without hesitation.

Why?

The two men walked outside.

My best friend stayed behind.

For a moment, I considered ending the prank.

I could simply say, Surprise! I remember everything.

But then I remembered their strange looks.

His relief when I pretended not to remember him.

Her hidden phone.

No.

Not yet.

“So…” I looked at her. “That guy is really my boyfriend?”

She hesitated.

Only for a second.

“Yes.”

There it was.

My heart dropped.

She was lying too.

My best friend.

The girl who knew everything about me.

I kept my expression blank.

“What’s his name?”

She told me.

I repeated it slowly.

“Doesn’t feel familiar.”

“That’s okay.”

“Do I love him?”

This time, she took longer to answer.

“You two have a… complicated relationship.”

I almost laughed.

Complicated?

That was one word for it.

That man had spent years acting like my existence personally offended him.

We argued at parties, birthdays, even once over a parking space.

And now apparently we were in love.

Wonderful.

“How complicated?”

“You fight a lot.”

At least that part was true.

“But you care about each other.”

“We do?”

“Yes.”

Liar.

I smiled.

“I want to talk to him.”

“Why?”

“Because apparently he’s my boyfriend.”

Her smile became awkward.

Then I asked casually, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Her back stiffened.

There.

That tiny reaction again.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m single.”

Something inside me whispered that I had just heard another lie.

Before I could ask anything else, she walked outside.

The door remained slightly open.

Then I heard voices.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” his best friend demanded.

I carefully slipped out of bed.

The room tilted.

I grabbed the bedside table.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Maybe don’t die while investigating your boyfriend.”

I moved toward the door.

“I need your help,” my boyfriend said.

“By telling her I’m her boyfriend?”

“She doesn’t remember me.”

“So?”

“So this is perfect.”

Perfect?

My fingers tightened around the doorframe.

“I just need some time,” my boyfriend continued.

“For what?”

“I’m tired, okay? The relationship, the questions, the calls… I just want to enjoy my life for a while.”

My chest tightened.

“Then break up with her,” his friend said.

“I don’t want to.”

“Then what do you want?”

“A break without all the drama.”

His friend laughed without humor.

“And after your little break?”

“I’ll go back to her. I’m going to marry her eventually.”

How generous.

Apparently I was good enough to marry someday.

Just not good enough to respect today.

“So until then?”

“I have some fun.”

“With whom?”

Silence.

Then his friend asked,

“Is there someone else?”

My boyfriend didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

“You’re cheating on her?”

“It’s not like that.”

Of course.

The universal anthem of guilty people.

Then another voice joined them.

My best friend.

“She could hear you.”

My body went cold.

My boyfriend answered softly,

“Relax. She’s in bed.”

The softness in his voice was different.

Too familiar.

His friend seemed to realize it too.

“You?”

Silence.

“You’re cheating on her with her best friend?”

My stomach dropped.

Neither of them denied it.

“It just happened,” my best friend whispered.

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Apparently people slipped and fell into relationships now.

Accidents everywhere.

Maybe hospitals should prepare for those too.

His friend sounded disgusted.

“And you want me to pretend to be her boyfriend so you two can be together?”

“It’s only for a few days.”

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

Something inside me relaxed.

Just a little.

“You’re my best friend,” my boyfriend argued.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m telling you this is disgusting.”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Silence.

Then my boyfriend laughed.

“I trust you more than anyone, especially with her.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t stand her. You two hate each other.”

My fake boyfriend went silent.

“You’re not going to fall for her,” my boyfriend continued. “And she definitely won’t fall for you.”

For some reason, the silence that followed felt strange.

Heavy.

“And when you’re done having fun?” his friend asked.

“I’ll tell her that her memories are slowly coming back. Then everything goes back to normal.”

Normal.

He had planned everything.

Even the return of memories I had never lost.

All so he could cheat peacefully and come back whenever he got bored.

Something inside me became very calm.

Not because it didn’t hurt.

It did.

But beneath the pain, anger was growing.

The dangerous kind.

The kind that smiled.

I heard footsteps.

Quickly, I returned to bed and pulled the blanket over myself.

The door opened.

His best friend entered first.

My boyfriend and best friend followed.

Three people.

Two liars.

And one man who had just refused to become part of their lie.

Interesting.

“Did you finish talking?” I asked.

“Yeah,” my boyfriend answered.

I looked at his friend.

“My boyfriend doesn’t look happy to see me.”

“I’m not a very happy person.”

I almost laughed.

At least he wasn’t lying.

My boyfriend stepped closer.

“He’s just worried.”

“Really?”

I looked directly at my fake boyfriend.

“Are you worried about me?”

His eyes met mine.

Then they moved toward the bandage around my head.

“Yes.”

One quiet word.

Yet somehow it sounded more honest than everything the other two had said all day.

An idea came to me.

I held my hand toward him.

Everyone stared.

He frowned.

“What?”

“If you’re my boyfriend, come here.”

My actual boyfriend suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Good.

His friend didn’t move.

I tilted my head.

“What kind of boyfriend refuses to even hold his girlfriend’s hand?”

He stared at me for several seconds.

Then slowly walked closer.

He placed his hand in mine.

The moment our fingers touched, his entire body went still.

So did mine.

His hand was warm.

I looked up.

He was staring at me strangely.

Not with irritation.

Not with hatred.

Something else.

Something he hid almost immediately.

I squeezed his hand.

“Better.”

My actual boyfriend laughed awkwardly.

“See? You’ll remember everything soon.”

I looked at him.

Oh, I remember everything.

Every word.

Every look.

Every lie.

But I smiled like the confused girl they believed me to be.

“I hope so.”

My best friend’s phone vibrated.

At almost the same moment, my boyfriend’s phone screen lit up.

Their eyes dropped to their screens.

Then to each other.

I didn’t need to see the messages.

I knew.

My boyfriend thought my fake memory loss had given him freedom.

He thought he could leave, enjoy himself, and come back whenever he wanted.

Worst of all…

He thought I would still be waiting.

I looked at the man whose hand I was holding.

The wrong boyfriend.

Then I smiled.

Poor i***t.

My prank was over.

But the game?

The game had only just begun.