Half an hour later, Neville woke up.
He came in to check on me first, but didn't explain why he'd been drunk the night before. Instead, he told me he'd be home late again today.
"It's your birthday," I couldn't help reminding him. A selfish little hope crept in. "Neville, could you stay home with me today? Just for the day?"
He froze for a few seconds, then opened his mouth. "The site today..."
"Just one day." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "I only need today. You can take a day off, can't you? Neville, it's been so long since we..."
"Catherine, grow up." He cut me off. "You think I run the site? That I can just take off whenever I want?"
Maybe he noticed my face fall, because he added, softer, "Cat, just today. I promise I'll be home early."
After Neville left, my caretaker arrived.
I told her that Neville would be taking the day off and she didn't need to look after me. I gave her the day off, full pay.
She left happily.
Once she was gone, I got myself out of bed and baked a birthday cake.
The first birthday we'd spent together, I'd made him a cake from scratch.
He told me it was the best cake he'd ever had, because in his original world he'd been an orphan. No one had ever baked him a cake before.
My heart had broken for him that day. I promised I'd make him one every year.
It had been a long time. My arms ached with the effort, and the result was lopsided and ugly.
When it was done, I opened the closet and found my ballet costume.
It was what I'd been wearing the first time Neville and I met. He told me I was the most beautiful swan he'd ever seen.
I changed into it, then wheeled myself back to the bedroom and turned on the TV.
The screen showed the live broadcast of the competition Polly was in.
No surprise. Polly was the champion.
On the screen, she stood beneath the spotlight, trophy in her arms, her smile radiant.
"Thank you all. This award means the world to me." She drew a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the audience below the stage. "But today, I'd like to take this moment to say something to someone special."
My heart clenched.
"Neville." Polly's voice turned soft, intimate. "I'm standing here because of you. I won this championship so I could tell you how I feel. I like you. If you feel the same, please come up here."
The camera cut away.
Neville stood in the crowd, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
The people around him were cheering, laughing, pushing him forward.
"Go! Go up!"
Something flickered in Neville's eyes. Hesitation. But he moved.
At the same time, I twisted open the cap of the pill bottle.
First step. He looked down at the flowers in his hands, almost shy.
I took out one pill, placed it on my tongue, and swallowed it dry.
Second step. He lifted his head, his gaze turning resolute.
I swallowed the second pill with a sip of water. Bitterness bloomed across my tongue.
Third step.
Third pill.
Neville walked exactly ninety-nine steps to reach Polly. I took ninety-nine pills.
My vision began to blur. I couldn't tell if it was the medication or the tears.
"Kiss her! Kiss her!"
The crowd below the stage started chanting, louder and louder, more and more in unison.
Neville looked down at Polly. Polly gazed up at him, her eyes brimming with expectation, almost overflowing.
He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist.
I tipped the last pill into my palm.
The moment Neville leaned in to kiss her, I pushed the pill past my lips.
I closed my eyes.
The bottle slipped from my fingers and rolled across the floor.
On the television, the roar of the crowd was deafening.
But I couldn't hear any of it anymore.
...
Neville never did close that kiss.
The instant before their lips met, a sharp pang seized his chest, and my face flashed through his mind.
He shoved Polly away. Muttered an apology. Then walked off the stage while stunned voices erupted behind him.
He called for the System as he walked.
"System, I stayed by Polly's side and helped her win the championship. You said you'd restore my wife's health. It's time."
The System didn't answer. Neville didn't dwell on it. His only thought was getting home.
Two months ago, the System had come to him out of nowhere, as if it had finally caved. It told him that as long as he stayed by the designated female lead's side and helped her win the championship, it would restore his life with Catherine to the way it had been before.
Neville couldn't bear to watch the woman he loved suffer any longer. He agreed without a second thought.
For two months, his days belonged to Polly: rehearsals, shielding her from pushy sponsors, navigating the exhausting carousel of industry events. His nights belonged to Catherine.
Every time he looked into those dimmed eyes of hers, he wanted to tell her. Hold on a little longer. Soon you'll be able to stand again.
But he couldn't say a word.
The System had warned him: one syllable leaked, and the deal was off.
Soon. It'll be soon. That was all he could tell himself, whispering silent vows over Catherine's sleeping face in the small hours of the night.
When you're better, I'll get on my knees and beg your forgiveness. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.
Now, at last, the moment had come.
Neville even bought a bouquet of gardenias. Her favorite.
"Cat!" he called, taking the stairs two at a time. "I'm home! Wait till you see what I brought you—"
The words died in his throat the instant he pushed open the door.
