Blaire's POV
It had been 520 days since Henry Kline told me he wanted to propose. But I didn't see a ring when he dropped to one knee.
Instead, he held out something else.
A request.
Henry asked me to donate my cornea to his mom.
“My mom’s a painter,” he said, his voice tight like he was barely holding it together. “Her sight’s going fast. I was gonna give her mine, but as president of the company, I can’t afford to lose my vision. You’re a big deal on stage, Blaire. You don’t need your sight to perform. Hell, the most famous tenor in Italy is blind.”
I hesitated, the weight of what he was asking sinking in. His eyes, those eyes I’d always thought of as warm, were now filled with desperation.
I couldn’t ignore it.
His voice softened, almost pleading, as he said, “Baby, if you do this, I’ll marry you. I’ll be your eyes for the rest of your life.”
I didn’t think twice. For love, I agreed.
The surgery was long. When I woke up, everything around me was pitch black.
“Henry?” I whispered into the void, but there was no answer.
A cold wave of panic hit me, sharp and fast. I pressed my hands to my eyes, the bandages damp with the tears I hadn’t even realized I’d been shedding. Then, I heard footsteps outside my room.
I scrambled to sit properly, my voice shaky. “Henry? Is that you?”
A cool, detached voice replied, “I’m your surgeon.”
Without another word, he guided me to a spot just a few feet away. A door separated us, but I could hear voices and laughter floating through the air.
Then, Henry’s laugh, cutting through the noise, was unmistakable and harsh in the crowd.
“That Blaire Aldridge is a real fool,” one of Henry’s friends sneered, his voice dripping scornfully. “She actually thought she was donating her cornea to your mom?”
“Yeah, right,” another added. “Henry tossed it in a fish tank when her cornea was cut out. Let the fish feed on it.”
My heart stopped. The floor beneath me tilted, and I felt like I was falling. My ears rang with their cruel words. They couldn’t be true. My cornea hadn’t gone to his mom.
'It was thrown away to feed the fish?' I shook my head in disbelief.
Then, laughter roared on.
“Remember when she broke her arm?” one voice said, almost gleeful. “Henry pretended to get mugged, and that idiot Blaire rushed in to save him. Of course, she ended up breaking her arm.”
“And don’t forget her leg!” another added. “Henry set up a roadblock, got wasted with the driver, and Blaire ran right into it, broke her calf.”
Then, Henry’s voice cut through the laughter, sharp and full of venom. “Your memories are spot on. I planned it all. Every accident. I just wanted Blaire to feel the pain Vivian went through.”
My heart shattered. I could barely breathe. The world felt like it was slipping away.
Then, my mind flashed back to three years ago.
Vivian Kennedy had been the lead in the play, 'Difficult to Cry.' I was the second lead. Normally, I wouldn’t have even stepped on that stage unless something happened to her. But an hour before showtime, Vivian, being Vivian, had overslept, and then the news came. She’d been in a terrible car crash.
The director was frantic, and in a panic, he begged me to take her place. The theater was packed, full of important people and high-ranking officials. My heart was racing, and my nerves were pulsing in fear, but somehow, I pulled off the performance of my life.
That night, I became the talk of the theater world. But now, Henry’s words shattered that illusion completely.
“I love Vivian,” he sneered, his voice dripping with spite. “Vivian can’t stand Blaire, so neither can I. Blaire’s the one who took Vivian’s future. How could I not get back at her?”
My world imploded as my view of Henry shattered.
“It was easy,” Henry went on. “I seduced her, made her trust me, made her think I was the one. She’s so damn naïve, thinking she could grow old with me. I’ll break her, piece by piece.”
The laughter roared again, each laugh a dagger in my chest. I couldn’t hold it together anymore. My body shook with silent sobs, my legs weak beneath me. I had nothing left.
Then, a calm, steady voice cut through the storm.
"Calm down, take a deep breath," the doctor said, his voice gentle but firm. "You’re better than this. You don’t deserve to be upset over those assholes."
I couldn’t stop shaking. “No. I’m not good. I’m blind now. I’d be better off dead…” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
I felt despair like never before, like I was falling endlessly into a deep abyss, surrounded by nothing but darkness and cold. The doctor’s hand gently grasped mine, steadying me.
“You’re not blind, Miss Aldridge. Not really,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “If you agree to leave with me, if you go abroad and never see Henry again, I can make you see again.”
My mind spun, thoughts slipping away like grains of sand. All I could think about was getting my sight back.
I didn’t care who the doctor was. I’d do anything to get out of Henry.
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’ll go. I’ll go with you. Just make me see again, and I’ll never see Henry Kline again.”
