The Invisible Girlfriend's New Start

After three years of being the agreeable, invisible girlfriend to my tech CEO boyfriend, Edward, I finally left him. Then Brody Frazier, his charming rival, swept into my life, determined to use me to get under Edward's skin.

But at a tech gala, Edward cornered me, publicly declaring his love and flashing a "promise ring" he claimed he'd bought for me weeks ago.

He did this right after his high school crush, Jeannette, announced their engagement, and right before he accused me of humiliating him.

He insisted his feelings for Jeannette were a "youthful fantasy" and that I was his "anchor," his "stability." He said he loved me.

But I remembered the truth. I remembered the small, hand-carved wooden bird he'd once made.

A gift he'd had me send to Jeannette years ago, along with a love note he dictated himself.

And I knew his desperate confession wasn't love. It was damage control.

Chapter 1

The silence after I finally cut ties with Edward, after three years of feeling like I was living in a ghost story, was supposed to be freeing. Instead, it was deafening. Then Brody Frazier walked into my life, a whirlwind of charm and a transparent agenda, trying to use me to get under Edward's skin. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't just seen; I was noticed.

Brody had been relentless in his pursuit. Not in a creepy way, but persistent. Like a golden retriever with a new favorite toy. He' d shown up at my office, sent flowers, left ridiculous, over-the-top voicemails. For weeks, I' d deflected. Ignored. Politely declined.

But he was good. Too good.

"Just one coffee," he'd pleaded yesterday, his voice a smooth rumble through the phone. "Thirty minutes. If you hate it, you never have to see me again. Promise."

He didn' t sound like he believed that promise, and neither did I.

I sighed, staring at my reflection in the office window. "Fine," I'd said, surprising myself.

His immediate, triumphant "Yes!" had made me smile despite myself.

Now, sitting across from him in a bustling cafe, I realized my mistake. He wasn' t just charming; he was captivating. His eyes, the color of warm honey, held a mischievous glint as he leaned forward.

"I' m going to make you forget Edward Atkins ever existed," he declared, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. He wasn't being subtle about his intentions for Edward, but for me, it felt… intense.

A nervous flutter stirred in my stomach. I knew his game. Everyone knew Brody wanted to outshine Edward in everything, and now that extended to me. But his conviction, the sheer force of his presence, was disarming.

My coffee arrived, steaming hot. I wrapped my hands around the mug, more for comfort than warmth.

"Cold?" he asked, already shrugging out of his designer jacket. "You look a little pale."

"No, I'm fine," I said quickly, maybe too quickly. "It's just… a little chilly in here."

He ignored my protest, draping the expensive fabric over my shoulders. It smelled faintly of something musky and expensive, a stark contrast to the sterile scent of my own clothes.

"You should really take better care of yourself, Allyson," he murmured, his gaze soft. "Edward never noticed when you shivered, did he?"

A sharp pang went through me. He was right. Edward wouldn't have noticed. He rarely noticed anything beyond the flickering numbers on his stock ticker.

I pulled the jacket tighter, a small, involuntary movement. "Edward was busy," I mumbled, feeling the familiar need to defend him, even now. It was a habit I was trying to break.

Brody scoffed, a low, dismissive sound. "Busy building his empire, I suppose. Some empires aren't worth the cost." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "Or the collateral damage."

I didn't respond, just took a long sip of my coffee. The warmth spread through me, both from the drink and the jacket. It felt… strange. Unfamiliar.

"It's a nice jacket," I finally said, the safest compliment I could offer.

Brody beamed, genuinely pleased. "See? I told you I'd be better at this. Edward probably bought you a gift card or some generic tech gadget he got a bulk discount on."

The words hit harder than they should have. My mind flashed back to my last birthday with Edward. He' d given me a new smart speaker. "To help you manage your tasks more efficiently," he'd said, his tone devoid of warmth. Before that, a gift card to a department store. Always practical. Never personal.

I remembered the time I had a terrible flu, shivering under three blankets, my head pounding. Edward had been in the next room, glued to his laptop. He' d asked if I needed anything, but his eyes never left the screen. When I weakly asked for a glass of water, he'd sighed, stood up, and retrieved it, placing it on my nightstand with a clinical detachment. No lingering touch, no checking my fever. Just the swift, efficient execution of a request.

Brody' s jacket, warm and scented, felt like a foreign object. A gesture I hadn't realized I was starved for.

"I'm glad you like it," Brody said, pulling me back to the present. His smile was so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes. "So, about our date on Saturday, still good for the art gallery?"

I hesitated. "I haven't been to an art gallery in years," I admitted, a little embarrassed. "Edward always said it was a waste of time."

Brody' s expression hardened for a split second, then softened. "Then it's perfect," he said, tapping a finger on the table. "A new experience. Something Edward would never appreciate." He scribbled something on a napkin. "I've made a note of your 'lack of art gallery experience.' Don't worry, I'll enlighten you. And I'm doing a much better job already than Atkins ever did."

I watched him, a quiet observer. He was so transparent, his motives laid bare. Yet, there was something endearing about his earnestness. He genuinely seemed to want to make an impression. Edward had never bothered. Edward had seen me as a convenient fixture, a stable presence to return to after his long, demanding days. He'd never really seen me at all.

"So, what do you think he's really after?" I asked myself, my gaze lingering on Brody's enthusiastic face. Edward, with his calculating mind, had probably only pursued me because I represented stability, a lack of drama, a blank canvas he could, perhaps, mold. He'd never truly wanted the complexity of me.

A comfortable silence settled between us, or perhaps it was just the quiet hum of the cafe. Brody was still smiling, oblivious to the storm brewing in my thoughts. He was a distraction, a bright, chaotic splash of color in the muted palette Edward had painted my life with. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what I needed.

"Okay," I finally said, meeting his gaze. "Saturday sounds good."