Dylan's POV
Ana Prescott. The girl I've loved since high school. Back then she was Xander's girlfriend, now she's his fiancée. And I'm still the best friend in the shadows.
Then the hospital called during a meeting at my law firm—Ana was in a car accident. I don't remember the drive, only the panic. Hours later, a doctor finally says, "Surgery went well." Relief nearly knocks me over.
A nurse leads me to her room. The steady beep of machines greets me. She looks so small, so fragile. My chest tightens; nausea twists my gut—not from disgust, but fear of losing her.
I take her hand, tears streaming. I've never cried over a woman before, but Ana's different. She's the reason no other relationship lasted. No one could ever measure up.
A nurse checks her vitals. I ask why I was the first to be called. She says, "You weren't. We called the first person five times. No answer." Xander. Rage boils inside me.
I call him. When he picks up, I explode: "The hospital called you five times! Your fiancée is lying in a hospital bed and you didn't even show up!"
"Relax, man—"
"Don't you dare tell me to relax. Get here. Now." I hang up, grab clothes from home, and call Ana's mom. Hearing her cry shatters me.
Days blur. I sleep in a hospital chair, cancel work, sing lullabies to her unconscious body. When her mom arrives, exhausted, I send her to the hotel I booked. She returns the next day.
Doctors start removing tubes—she's improving. Her mom and I talk, reliving old memories. Then she drops a bomb: "I always knew you two would end up together. You were the right choice, not Xander."
She even thinks Ana and I are engaged. I don't correct her. For the first time, I feel like I belong—like this is where I'm meant to be.
Then Xander shows up two weeks later, clapping like a villain.
"Fiancé of the year, huh?" I snap, standing. "I called you two weeks ago. Where the hell have you been?"
"Vacation," he says, smirking. "Needed some me time before this lifetime commitment."
"You gave her a ring a month ago!"
"Relax. She wasn't alone. You and her mom had her covered."
I want to break his face. Then he adds, "Remember Brook? I was with her."
Unbelievable.
And then, the final insult: "If she wakes with memory loss, let's pretend you're the fiancé and I'm your friend. If not, I'll commit."
He wants to discard her like trash—until he's bored of Brook. I should refuse. But if this keeps her away from him, I'll do it.
"Why?" I ask.
"Brook's special. And honestly, I regret proposing to Ana. But I'll take her back later if I have to."
This bastard. He has no idea he just handed me the one thing I've always wanted.
"Deal," I say coldly.
Ten minutes later, Ana stirs. My pulse spikes. Her eyes flutter open, and for a terrifying second, I wonder—does she remember?
"Water," she whispers. I rush to help her drink. Then she lies back, breath uneven. And then—
"Who are you two?"
Fuck. I think I just won a fiancée.
Xander leaps in: "Hey Ana, I'm Xander. This is Dylan—your fiancé. I'm his best friend." He says it like she's nothing. But I don't care. This is what I wanted.
"Really?" she whispers. "I… I don't remember."
Neither of us knows yet, but this changes everything.
---
Ana's POV
Darkness. That's all there was at first. Trapped inside a body that won't move. I hear voices, feel cold metal, smell antiseptic. I think I'm dying.
They say when you're dying, you remember happy memories. I don't have any. Just regret. Regret saying yes to Xander. Regret loving him after every betrayal.
Then I hear Dylan's voice—soft, steady, desperate. "Will she be alright?" His voice cuts through the fear, anchors me. I want to answer, but I can't. So I fight to stay. For him.
Hours—or days—pass in fragments. His voice is always there. He sings lullabies, talks to me like I'm awake. He doesn't leave, even when my mom arrives. He's my lifeline. Xander? Nowhere. Not a single sign of him.
I hear Mom telling Dylan, "She needs you. Be good to her." Dylan murmurs something back, voice thick with emotion.
And then memories hit—every time Dylan checked on me after Xander cheated. Every time he cared when Xander didn't. How could I have been so blind?
Control returns slowly—fingers twitch, eyelids flutter. But I keep still, wanting to hear more.
Then the door opens. Heavy steps. Xander.
I listen as Dylan unleashes years of fury. "Two weeks, Xander! She's been fighting for her life!"
"Relax," Xander says smugly. "You didn't need me."
"You were on vacation?" Dylan spits.
"Yeah. Me time before commitment."
I want to rip the tubes out and scream. But then Xander drops the bomb—Brook. He cheated again. During my coma.
I'm done. Done loving him. Done forgiving him.
Then his voice slithers through the room: "If she wakes with memory loss, we pretend Dylan's the fiancé. I'll come back for her later."
Pretend? The word burns. He doesn't love me. Never did. But Dylan… Dylan stayed. Dylan fought for me. Dylan loves me.
If Xander wants to play this game, fine. I'll play better. Because truth is, even if Xander hadn't suggested this, I would have chosen Dylan.
Minutes later, I open my eyes. First thing I see? Dylan. Those piercing blue eyes, that strong jaw, that gentle hand gripping mine. I squeeze hard, like I've been waiting my whole life to do it.
He looks at me, worry carved into his face. God, he's beautiful. More than I remembered. And behind him? Xander—the snake.
Well, Xander. Let's see how you like losing to the man who's always been better than you.
I ask for water to hide my smile. Both men wait like gamblers at the table. Then, in my softest voice, I ask:
"Who are you two?"
Xander jumps in: "I'm Xander, this is Dylan—your fiancé. I'm his best friend."
Those words should sting. They don't. They feel… right.
"Really? I… I don't remember."
But I will. And when I do, everything changes.