I Woke Up a Stranger to Myself

I woke up in a hospital, my head pounding, five years of my life a blank. The last thing I remembered, I was a free-spirited 21-year-old artist, alive and vibrant. Instead, my best friend Chloe told me I was 26, married to a man I didn't know: Ethan Hayes. A cold, impeccably dressed stranger who barely acknowledged my existence. This nightmare marriage had erased me: my art, my motorcycle, even the phoenix tattoo on my back-all gone. My husband publicly denied me, flaunted an affair, and when I desperately needed him, he was "too busy." I lost our baby-a life extinguished by his chilling neglect. Then came the ultimate betrayal: I, the rebellious artist, had been obsessed with him, forcing this very marriage, trapping us both. My amnesia had protected me from the monster I became, the architect of my own gilded cage and his profound resentment. How could I be this person? How had I traded everything for a man who despised me? Desperate and enraged, I challenged him to a death race for my freedom, but instead, I plunged off a cliff. Then, I jolted awake, not in a hospital, but at a dinner table-five years in the past. It was the night my engagement to Ethan was finalized. This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake. "No!" I cried, pushing back my chair. "I'm not marrying him!"