Chapter 5: The Night I Was Supposed to Forget
I played the voicemail three times.
The first time, I thought I had misunderstood.
The second time, I listened for something else.
A laugh.
A mistake.
A sound that would prove my mother was wrong.
The third time, I listened to my own voice.
The fear in it.
The desperation.
The way I whispered the words like I was hiding from someone.
*"If anything happens to me... don't trust Jessamine.""*
Then silence.
Every time.
Like the recording itself knew there was nothing else I needed to hear.
I lowered my phone.
My mother was watching me carefully.
Not like a mother watching her daughter.
Like someone watching a wound reopen.
"Where did you get this?"" I asked.
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Don't do that.""
"Amelia—"
"Everyone keeps saying they don't know.""
I stood up.
"Everyone knew something. Everyone had a reason. Everyone had a secret.""
My voice cracked.
"And I was the only person living inside my own life who didn't get the truth.""
My mother looked down.
"You deserve to know.""
"Yes.""
I held up the phone.
"I deserve to know why my own voice was warning people about my best friend.""
She closed her eyes.
"I was hoping you would never have to hear that.""
I stared at her.
"Why?""
"Because I was afraid.""
"Of what?""
She swallowed.
"Of what you would remember.""
The words sat between us.
Heavy.
I looked back at the folder.
At the notes I had written to myself.
At the warning.
At the evidence I had collected and then somehow abandoned.
"What happened that night?""
My mother didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked to the kitchen counter and picked up a framed photograph.
It was one of those old family pictures everyone had.
Me and Claire.
Our parents.
A summer vacation.
A time before secrets.
She turned the frame over.
Behind it was a small piece of paper taped to the back.
My mother's hands shook as she removed it.
"I kept this because I didn't know what else to do.""
She handed it to me.
It was another note.
My handwriting.
But this one looked rushed.
Messy.
Like I had written it while my hands were shaking.
*Mom, if I come to you and say I changed my mind, don't believe me.*
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
My mother looked away.
"You wrote that after you found out about Ethan and Jessamine.""
I read the next line.
*They're going to try to convince me I'm overreacting. They're going to say I'm confused.*
My heart started pounding.
The next sentence was underlined.
*I'm not confused.*
I looked at my mother.
"Why did I write this?""
She whispered:
"Because the day before the accident, you called me.""
"And?""
"You were crying.""
"What did I say?""
My mother sat down.
"You said Jessamine came to your house.""
The room felt colder.
"What happened?""
"I don't know everything.""
I gave her a look.
She quickly continued.
"I swear. You wouldn't tell me details because you said you needed proof.""
"Proof of what?""
"That she was trying to take something from you.""
I looked at the note.
"What?""
My mother hesitated.
Then said:
"You thought she wanted your life.""
I drove to Jessamine's apartment without telling anyone.
I didn't know if it was brave or stupid.
Maybe both.
But I needed to see her face.
I needed to know if the woman who had cried while doing my wedding hair was the same woman I had been afraid of two years ago.
Her building was twenty minutes away.
I sat in my car outside for almost ten minutes.
I watched people walk in and out.
Normal people.
Living normal lives.
Nobody knew that inside my chest was a war between two versions of reality.
The one I remembered.
And the one I didn't.
Finally, I got out.
I climbed the stairs.
And before I could knock, the door opened.
Jessamine stood there.
She looked like she hadn't slept.
Her makeup was gone.
Her hair was messy.
For the first time in years, she looked exactly like someone who had something to hide.
"Amelia.""
I didn't move.
"How did you know I was coming?""
Her expression changed.
A second too late.
"I didn't.""
"Liar.""
She looked down.
"Can we please talk?""
I walked inside.
Her apartment smelled like vanilla.
The same perfume she wore every day.
The same smell that used to mean comfort.
Now it made my stomach turn.
She closed the door.
"I'm sorry.""
I laughed.
"No.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I am.""
"You don't get to start with that.""
She flinched.
"You're right.""
I looked around.
Photos.
Decorations.
A life she had built.
Then I saw something.
A framed picture on her shelf.
Me and her.
At my graduation.
We were twenty-two.
Before Ethan.
Before everything.
Before betrayal.
I pointed at it.
"How long were you lying to me?""
Jessamine looked at the photo.
"I never stopped caring about you.""
"That wasn't my question.""
She wiped her cheek.
"Six months.""
I froze.
"The affair?""
She nodded.
"Six months before you found out.""
My fingers curled.
"You were sleeping with my fiancé for six months?""
"Yes.""
"And then you helped me plan my wedding?""
Her face crumpled.
"I know.""
"No.""
I stepped closer.
"You don't know.""
My voice lowered.
"You stood behind me while I tried on dresses. You listened to me talk about my future. You helped me write my vows.""
"I know.""
"You touched my hair this morning.""
She closed her eyes.
"I know.""
"Why?""
The question finally broke through.
"Why would you do that?""
Jessamine sat down.
And for a moment, she looked exhausted.
Not guilty.
Exhausted.
"I thought you would remember.""
My blood ran cold.
"What?""
She looked up.
"I thought the accident would make you remember.""
I stared at her.
"Remember what?""
Her face changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"Amelia...""
"Answer me.""
She looked toward the window.
Then whispered:
"You weren't supposed to marry him.""
I felt the room shift.
"What does that mean?""
"You were supposed to leave him.""
"I know that now.""
"No.""
She shook her head.
"You knew then.""
I stepped back.
"What?""
"You found out everything.""
"About you and Ethan?""
"Yes.""
"Then why did I stay?""
Jessamine's eyes filled.
"Because he convinced you.""
"With what?""
She looked at me.
"With the same thing he used after your accident.""
My heartbeat slowed.
"What?""
She whispered:
"He told you that you were broken.""
I couldn't breathe.
"He told you your memories were unreliable.""
I stared at her.
"He made you think you were crazy.""
The words hit like a slap.
"No.""
"Yes.""
"No.""
"You don't want to believe it.""
"Because it's not true.""
Jessamine stood.
"I wish it wasn't.""
I looked at her.
"Then why did you help him?""
The question destroyed the room.
Her face collapsed.
And for the first time, I saw something I hadn't seen before.
Not guilt.
Regret.
"I was jealous.""
The honesty shocked me.
"I hated that you had everything.""
"What?""
"Your confidence. Your family. Your career. Ethan.""
She laughed bitterly.
"I convinced myself you didn't deserve him.""
My jaw tightened.
"So you took him.""
"Yes.""
"And then?""
She looked at the floor.
"Then I realized he wasn't what I thought.""
A cold feeling moved through me.
"What does that mean?""
She didn't answer.
"Jessamine.""
She looked at me.
"When I found out about Ethan, I thought I had won.""
Her voice cracked.
"But then I saw how he talked about you.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"He didn't love me.""
Silence.
"He used me.""
I stared at her.
The person who had destroyed my wedding was telling me she had been destroyed too.
I didn't know whether to believe her.
"Why?""
Jessamine walked to a drawer.
She pulled out an envelope.
"I kept this because I knew one day you would need it.""
My chest tightened.
More secrets.
More evidence.
More pieces of a life I couldn't remember.
She handed it to me.
"It's from the night before your accident.""
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Not of Ethan and Jessamine.
Not of my mother.
This one was taken outside a restaurant.
Ethan was there.
Jessamine was there.
And behind them was another person.
Someone I recognized immediately.
Someone who had no reason to be there.
My own sister.
Claire.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten message.
*They all knew.*
I looked at Jessamine.
"What is this?""
She looked terrified.
"Amelia, there is something Ethan never told you.""
"What?""
Her voice dropped.
"The accident wasn't an accident.""
My fingers went numb.
"What are you saying?""
She took a shaky breath.
"I'm saying the night you crashed...""
She looked at the photograph.
"You were trying to escape from them.""
A knock came from the door.
Both of us froze.
Jessamine's face went pale.
Because she knew who it was.
Slowly, she whispered:
"He's here.""
The doorknob moved.
And Ethan's voice came from the other side.
"Jessamine.""
A pause.
"Open the door.""
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
May you like
Then the lock turned.
And the door started opening.
