Chapter 3 of After My Ex Left Me Before Surgery, I Ruined His Engagement

The hospital at night was never quiet. Machines beeped. Wheels squeaked down hallways. Somewhere on another floor, someone coughed.

I stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow was physical therapy. The first real test of whether the surgery had worked. Whether I'd walk out of here or roll.

I didn't want to think about it.

'You awake?' Gabriel's voice came through the wall.

I turned my head toward the sound. 'Yes.'

'Can't sleep either?'

'Pre-PT anxiety,' I said. 'You?'

'I don't sleep much. Never have.' A pause. 'Want to hear my theory about why rooks are actually the most underrated piece?'

I almost smiled. 'You're not letting that go.'

'Never.'

We talked for an hour. He argued that rooks were underestimated because they required patience. I argued that bishops were more versatile. We debated opening gambits and endgame strategy. He told me about a chess tournament he'd watched in Prague. I told him about the time I beat my high school math teacher in twelve moves.

'Twelve?' He sounded impressed.

'He underestimated me. People do that.'

'Not anymore, I bet.'

Silence settled between us. Comfortable. Strange.

'What's Manhattan like in the rain?' I asked. I don't know why. The question just came.

'Depends. Midtown in the rain is miserable. Everyone's angry, umbrellas everywhere, cabs spraying dirty water.' He shifted. I heard the bed creak. 'But Central Park in the rain? Early morning, before the tourists? That's different. Everything's quiet. The trees look darker. The paths are empty. It feels like the city's telling you a secret.'

I closed my eyes. I could see it.

'You go there a lot?' I asked.

'Used to. When I was a kid.' His voice changed slightly. Softer. 'There was this girl I knew. We'd meet at the Bethesda Fountain. Play until someone's mom came looking.'

I waited.

'We had a wedding once,' he said. 'We were six. She wore a flower crown. I wore a clip-on tie. We traded Ring Pops and promised to get married for real someday.'

My chest tightened.

'What happened?' I asked quietly.

'Life. Different schools. Different worlds.' He paused. 'I never forgot her, though.'

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

'You ever make promises like that?' he asked. 'Kid promises?'

I thought about Erik on the bridge. The way his hand closed around my wrist. The promise I made to myself that night: I owe him everything.

'Yeah,' I said. 'I did.'

'Did you keep it?'

'I tried.' My voice came out rough. 'For seven years, I tried.'

Gabriel didn't ask more. He just let the silence sit.

'Hospital Jell-O,' he said finally, 'is a crime against food.'

I laughed. Actually laughed. It surprised me.

'Agreed,' I said.

We talked until almost three. About nothing. About everything. He asked about my parents' bookshelf. I don't know why I answered. I never talked about my parents. Not to anyone.

But I told him about my mother's collection of old paperbacks. The worn copy of 'A Room with a View' she'd read every summer. The way my father used to leave notes in the margins for her to find.

'They sounded like they loved each other,' Gabriel said.

'They did.'

'I'm sorry you lost them.'

I pressed my palm against the wall. Like I could reach through it.

'Thank you,' I whispered.

The next morning, I survived PT. Barely. But I survived.

Gabriel was waiting in the common area when I got back, chessboard already set up.

'You're walking better,' he said.

I sat down slowly. 'Don't get excited. I almost fell twice.'

'But you didn't.'

I looked at him. At this man who showed up every day. Who sent peonies. Who stayed awake talking to a wall because I couldn't sleep.

'Why are you really here?' I asked.

His hand paused over a pawn. 'What do you mean?'

'Your leg's fine. I can tell. You barely use that crutch.'

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he smiled. Not the easy one. The private one.

'Maybe I just like the company,' he said.

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.

A notification. Instagram. Someone had tagged me in a post.

I opened it.

Madalyn's face filled the screen. She was laughing, head tilted back, Erik's arm around her waist. They stood in front of the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. The caption read: 'He saved my life once. Now I get to spend mine with him. #Engaged #LoveWins #SecondChances.'

I scrolled. There were more. Dozens. Madalyn and Erik at a rooftop bar. At a gallery opening. At the restaurant where he'd taken me for our first anniversary.

Every mutual connection we had was liking them. Commenting. Congratulating.

My phone buzzed again. A text from a number I didn't recognize.

'Thought you should see this.'

Another screenshot. Another post.

I set the phone down.

Gabriel was watching me. 'You okay?'

'Fine.'

A knock at the door. A courier in a gray uniform held out a cream envelope. Thick. Expensive.

'Astrid Hayes?'

I took it.

The envelope was heavy. Embossed. Inside was a gilded invitation on cardstock that probably cost more than my hospital bill.

'Erik Bryant and Madalyn Carr request the honor of your presence at their engagement celebration.'