Too Late to Want Me Back

"Oh God, Noah... right there..." The moan from my bedroom hit like a gut punch. After ten years of waiting for Noah to pop the question, I'd walked in on him going at it with my best friend Claire. My world spun as I tumbled down the stairs, cracking my head. But when I woke up in the hospital, faking amnesia became my secret weapon.

"Who are you?" I croaked, eyeing their guilty faces. They tried to gaslight me, spinning a tale where they were the perfect couple and I was just the helpful sidekick. Big mistake. I played the fragile victim, slipping back into their lives, sparking jealousy, and dropping bombshells like a bogus cancer diagnosis to really twist the knife.

As Noah fell apart, begging for a second chance, and Claire lost her cool, I found an unlikely partner in crime: Dr. Lucas Grant, the hot surgeon who saw right through my act and jumped in to help. He put it all on the line for my revenge, showing me what real love actually feels like.

In this wild ride of betrayal, deception, and comeback, I discovered that sometimes, "forgetting" is the sweetest payback. Or is it?

Erin's POV

I practically bounced out of the office. My heart was pounding with excitement—after ten years of waiting, Noah was finally ready to make it official.

I'd ditched work early, faking a dentist appointment. Truth was, I couldn't wait another second to surprise him with the dress I'd picked.

The lock clicked open, and I slipped inside, trying to stay quiet. I wanted this to be perfect.

But the apartment was dead silent. Eerily so.

Then I heard it—a soft moan. Female. From upstairs.

My blood ran cold. No. This can't be happening...

Another moan, louder. Followed by a grunt I knew all too well.

I crept up the stairs, breath catching in my throat. The bedroom door was cracked open, and through it, I saw...

"Oh God, Noah... right there..."

Claire. My best friend Claire.

Her voice was breathy and desperate, nothing like her usual polished tone at work. And beneath her, thrusting in a rhythm that turned my stomach, was Noah. My Noah.

The man I'd been planning to marry for a decade.

Claire kept going, oblivious. "Don't stop, baby..."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. It was all crashing down.

I stumbled back, hand over my mouth, legs shaking. I grabbed for the banister, missed, and everything went black as my head cracked against the hardwood floor.

Everything hurt. My head throbbed like it'd been hit with a bat, and my mouth tasted metallic, like blood.

I tried opening my eyes, but the light stabbed like knives.

"She's waking up," a male voice said, calm and professional.

"Thank God," Noah replied, sounding relieved—maybe guilty? Hard to tell.

"Erin? Honey?" Claire's voice, sickly sweet. "Can you hear us?"

Us. They were here together, playing the concerned friends.

I wanted to laugh, but my throat was raw.

Slowly, I blinked open my eyes. White ceiling, white walls, that sharp hospital smell.

And there they were, hovering by my bed with matching worried looks: the two who'd just wrecked my life.

Noah's hair was a mess, shirt rumpled like he'd crashed in it. Claire looked put-together as always, but dark circles peeked through her concealer.

"Who..." I croaked, then tried again. "Who are you?"

Relief washed over their faces, almost comical.

"Oh, sweetie," Claire cooed, grabbing my hand. I let her, even though it made my skin crawl. "You had an accident. Fell down the stairs at your place."

"I don't..." I blinked, playing confused—it wasn't a stretch. "I don't remember. Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," Noah said. "Hit your head pretty bad."

I glanced between them, keeping my face blank. "Sorry, but... who are you guys? Family?"

They exchanged a look—relief tinged with something like disappointment.

"I'm Claire," she said, squeezing my hand. "Your best friend. We've known each other forever."

"And I'm Noah." He paused. "I'm Claire's boyfriend."

Claire's boyfriend.

The words hit like a punch, but I stayed neutral, curious, innocent.

"Oh," I said softly. "You two are together?"

"Yeah," Claire jumped in. "For a while now. You've always been super supportive of us."

What a lying bitch.

"That's nice," I murmured, voice small. "Sorry, everything's fuzzy. How'd I fall?"

Noah cleared his throat. "You were at home, must've tripped on the stairs. We were... uh..."

"We were hanging out," Claire cut in smoothly. "You went upstairs for something, and we heard this awful crash..."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Noah added, sounding genuine. "When I saw you lying there... man, Erin, I thought we'd lost you."

We. Again.

I wanted to scream, grab his collar, demand how long he'd been screwing my best friend in our bed—the one where I'd folded his clothes, cooked his dinners, dreamed of our future.

Instead, I nodded weakly. "Sorry I scared you."

"Don't apologize," Claire said, all concern. "We're just happy you're safe."

A knock at the door interrupted. A tall, dark-haired guy in a white coat walked in—early thirties, sharp eyes, quiet confidence.

"Afternoon," he said, voice deep and steady. "I'm Dr. Grant, overseeing your care."

His gaze flicked over Noah and Claire before landing on me.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, checking the monitors.

"Confused," I admitted. "Can't remember what happened. Or much of anything, really."

He nodded, jotting on his tablet. "That's common with head trauma. Memory loss around the injury is pretty typical."

Noah and Claire swapped relieved glances.

How convenient for you.

"Doc," Claire said, switching to her professional vibe, "anything we can do to help her recover? We wanna make sure she's got what she needs."

"Be patient," Dr. Grant replied. "Don't push memories. Let it come naturally."

My phone buzzed. Caller ID: Lumière Bridal.

"Hello?" I answered, heart racing.

"Miss Parker? Sarah from Lumière Bridal. You missed your final fitting today. Everything okay? Your wedding to Mr. Reid is only six weeks away—"

"Wedding?" I said loudly, enough for everyone to hear. "I'm getting married?"

The blood drained from Noah's face. Claire looked ready to puke.

Noah snatched the phone from me. "Hey, this is Noah Reid. There's been an accident."

After some muffled talk, he hung up.

"I'm getting married? With Noah?" I repeated, wide-eyed and innocent, looking between them. "But you said you two are together. I'm so confused..."

"No, no, sweetie," Claire said, voice pitching high. "You're not getting married. You were just helping me with my dress fittings—we're about the same size, right? You've been so awesome pitching in with the wedding planning."

What a creative liar.

"Oh," I said, sinking back into the pillows. "That makes sense. I was wondering how I'd be getting married without remembering a boyfriend."

Their relief was almost laughable.

"Exactly," Noah said, too brightly. "You're always putting others first like that."