The Amnesiac Genius: Leaving Her Toxic Ex

Amy Hayes POV:

Bella sat on the bench beside me, uninvited.

"So," she began, her tone casual, too casual. "Ethan tells me you two were quite serious."

She was probing. I could feel it.

"Was I?" I asked, genuinely curious about what this woman thought. I had no memory, so her version was just another story.

Bella laughed, a light, tinkling sound that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, Amelia. Don't be coy. Everyone in Portland knew how devoted you were to him."

"I don't remember it that way," I said, which was technically true. I didn't remember it at all.

My detached response seemed to reassure her.

"Well, Ethan and I have such a long history," Bella continued, launching into a story. "We met at university. A whirlwind romance. Everyone said we were the golden couple. He was heartbroken when I left for Europe, you know. Tuscany was calling my name, my culinary destiny."

She sighed dramatically. "He never really got over me. He told me so himself."

She paused, then looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

"It's hard, isn't it? When you love someone, and they're still attached to someone else. I often wondered if I made the right choice, leaving him. If he truly moved on."

Her confidence seemed a little less solid now.

"People do what they think is best at the time," I offered, a generic platitude. I was thinking of the old Amy, the one who apparently suffered because of this woman's choices and Ethan's inability to let go.

"Perhaps," Bella said, then she smiled, a bright, artificial smile. "But he's with me now. That's what matters."

There was something in the way she said it—too emphatic, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as me. For just a second, I glimpsed it: not triumph in her eyes, but a raw, hungry fear. The look of someone who had clawed her way up and lived in terror of falling back down.

She stood up, stretching languidly.

"I'm heading to that new juice bar. Want to come?"

"No, thank you," I said. "I have things to do."

"Suit yourself." She gave a little wave and walked away.

I watched her go, a strange feeling settling in my stomach.

She was trying to mark her territory.

A few days later, I was at a local culinary supply store.

I was picking out new piping tips.

Suddenly, there was a crash from the aisle next to me.

Shelves of expensive chocolate callets had toppled over.

And Bella Rossi was sprawled on the floor, amidst the mess, clutching her ankle.

"My ankle!" she cried out, her face contorted in pain. "I think it's broken!"

Before I could even react, Ethan Cole was there.

He rushed to Bella's side, his face a mask of concern.

"Bella! What happened?"

He helped her sit up, his arm around her protectively.

Bella pointed a shaking finger at me.

"She did it! Amelia! She pushed the shelf! I saw her!"

Ethan's head snapped towards me. His eyes were blazing with fury.

"You!" he snarled. "What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," I said, shocked by the accusation. "I was in the next aisle."

"Liar!" Bella shrieked. "She's always been jealous of me! She's trying to hurt me!"

Ethan stood up, advancing on me.

"Stay away from her," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know what game you're playing, Amy, but it stops now."

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. Hard.

"I didn't touch her," I insisted, trying to pull away. The pain in my arm was sharp.

"Ethan, stop it!" a store employee shouted, rushing over.

Ethan ignored him. He tightened his grip on my arm, then shoved me.

For a fraction of a second—so brief I almost imagined it—something flickered in his eyes. Not remorse. But a crack. A hairline fracture in his certainty. Then it was gone, swallowed by the fire.

I stumbled backward, hitting a display of glass jars.

They shattered around me.

Pain exploded in my hand as a shard of glass sliced deep into my palm.

Blood welled up, dark and sudden.

I cried out, clutching my injured hand.

Through a haze of pain, I saw Ethan.

He wasn't looking at me.

He was kneeling beside Bella, cradling her, his face full of tender concern for her.

He didn't even glance my way.

The store manager was yelling. People were staring.

The world started to spin.

My knees buckled.

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Ethan, completely focused on Bella, as if I didn't even exist. As if I wasn't bleeding on the floor just a few feet away.

I woke up in the emergency room. Again.

Chloe was there, her face pale.

"Amy! Oh my god, your hand!"

My hand was bandaged, throbbing.

"Chloe," I whispered. "He… Ethan… he hurt me."

Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. "I know, honey. I heard. The store manager called me. He said Ethan was out of control."

She didn't know the half of it. She didn't know Bella accused me. She didn't know Ethan believed her instantly.

I didn't tell her. What was the point?

It just confirmed everything she’d already said about him.

This time, the blank space where Ethan should have been started to fill with something else.

Not love. Not even curiosity.

A cold, hard anger.