I didn’t lift my head. “I bumped into the shelf. That’s all.”
His hand froze midair, fingers trembling like he wanted to touch me but didn’t dare. “Everything happened so fast,” he said hoarsely. “Liora was sobbing. People were shouting. I thought she was seriously injured. I panicked, Mira. I never meant to walk away from you.”
I curved my lips into something that barely counted as a smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She needed someone. You went to her.”
“No.” He caught my hand suddenly, holding it as if he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip. His palm was warm, his hold tight, almost frantic. “Listen to me. You’ve got it all twisted. I’m only being careful with her because she’s the donor match. That’s it. You’re the one I care about. You’ve always been the one. Don’t shut me out like this.”
My eyes stung, heat gathering behind them. “I know,” I whispered. “That’s why I never blamed you.”
The tension drained from his face like water spilling from a cracked cup. He leaned closer, focusing on the cut as he cleaned it, wrapping fresh gauze around my arm with careful, practiced movements. “You should lie down. I’ll stay. I won’t go anywhere tonight.”
For a brief second, as his fingers worked gently and his presence filled the room, I almost let myself believe we’d slipped backward in time—to when he hovered over me, to when leaving wasn’t even an option for him.
Then his phone rang.
“Ethan…” Liora’s voice came through the speaker, thick with tears. “I don’t see you anywhere. I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone…”
Guilt twisted across his features. “I’m coming. Right now.”
He ended the call and turned toward me, conflict written all over his face. “She’s by herself. She’s really shaken. I’ll just go check on her. Once she falls asleep, I’ll come straight back. I promise.”
And then he was gone—moving so quickly it felt like he carried the last trace of warmth out of the room with him.
I folded in on myself on the bed, knees drawn tight to my chest, breathing shallow and uneven. The ache wasn’t just in my body. It spread deeper than that. Ethan didn’t come back that night. Or the next. Two days passed. At first, I kept glancing at the door, listening for footsteps that never arrived. Eventually, I stopped waiting. I took my medication on schedule. I replaced the dressing on my arm when it soaked through. I learned how to recover quietly, tucked away in my own corner of the world.
…
That afternoon, I sat near the window with a book resting unopened on my legs. Sunlight poured in, soft and golden, but my eyes couldn’t bear it for long. My phone vibrated on the table. When I answered, her voice flowed out smoothly.
“Hey, Mira. Want to hear something interesting?” Liora sounded delighted, that sugary tone of hers making my stomach tighten. She was enjoying this. “Did you know Ethan almost died for me?”
My fingers stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
She laughed, light and pleased with herself. “I casually mentioned that necklace they award to the winner of the motorcycle stunt competition. He signed up instantly. No hesitation at all. You should’ve seen him—he was flying down the track like he didn’t care if he lived or died. The bike nearly flipped. When they rushed him into emergency, guess what he yelled?” Her voice quivered with excitement. “He called my name. Not yours. Mine.”
The book slid shut in my lap. I turned toward the window, staring at the harsh brightness outside, refusing to let her hear my voice crack. “So he got himself hurt just to make you happy,” I said quietly.
“Mhm,” she breathed, dragging the sound out. “He needs someone to look after him now. I thought maybe you’d want to come?”
I exhaled slowly, my chest loosening in a strange, empty way. “No, Liora. He’s your choice, isn’t he? He risked himself for you. So you should be the one by his side.”
She didn’t answer right away. The pause was too long, too telling. Before she could speak again, I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the couch like it had burned me.
Outside, the trees swayed gently, leaves brushing against one another with a soft whisper. I watched them until my vision blurred. Then I picked my phone up again.
My fingers moved on their own, dialing a number I’d memorized long ago.
“Hello?” a man answered.
“Yes,” I said evenly. “I’m calling about the double burial plot—Section B, Lot Twelve. I wanted to ask—”
The door slammed open so violently I flinched, nearly dropping the phone.
“Mira!”
I looked up—and my breath stopped.
Ethan stood in the doorway, deathly pale in a striped hospital gown. Thick bandages wrapped his chest, already darkening with blood that spread wider every time he inhaled. His lips were drained of color, but his eyes burned fiercely, almost wild.
The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. “Ethan, what are you doing here? You should still be admitted!”
He staggered forward, gripping the doorframe to stay upright. “Why?” he demanded, voice shaking. “Why were you asking about a grave?”
I forced my mouth into a smile, even as my heart skipped painfully. “You misunderstood. Mrs. Han’s dog died last night. She didn’t know who else to ask for help. That’s all. Really.” I sounded so calm that I nearly convinced myself.
His shoulders drooped, but pain twisted his expression. He leaned heavily against the wall. “Motorcycle accident,” he muttered.
I rushed to his side, steadying him. “Don’t say another word. We’re going back to the hospital right now.”
In the car, his head rested against the seat, lashes fluttering like a child who’d exhausted himself fighting sleep. I watched him quietly, memorizing the lines of his face, the familiar curve of his lips. My voice shook so faintly it felt like the wind carried it away. “This is the last time I’ll worry about you, Ethan. After today… I’ll already be gone.”
…
At the hospital, I handled everything—signed forms, adjusted his blanket, stayed until his breathing evened out and he slipped into sleep. Then I stepped into the hallway and made a call.
“Liora,” I said calmly. “Can you come by in the morning? I need to take care of something important.”
She laughed softly, music and chatter echoing behind her. “I’m out right now. I’ll come tomorrow, okay? Don’t sound so dramatic.”
Morning arrived.
Liora walked in carrying an expensive handbag, hair flawless, makeup immaculate. She looked like she was attending a fashion event, not visiting a hospital.
I smiled faintly. “You came.”
She tilted her head, smirking. “Of course. I wanted to see you. But let’s stop pretending, Mira. I’m never giving you my bone marrow. Why would I? I only want Ethan. Honestly, I’d rather you disappear.” Her voice rang loud enough to draw glances from the nurses.
“I know,” I replied gently. “You want me dead. Then take him. Look after him yourself.”
Something in my calmness snapped her restraint. She seized my arm, nails digging deep into my skin. “Don’t act innocent,” she hissed. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty.”
She shook me hard. Pain shot through me, but I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.
The commotion woke Ethan.
Liora released me instantly, slapped her own face, and collapsed into sobs. “Ethan! Mira hit me!” she cried. “She’s jealous of me. She demanded my bone marrow while you were asleep. She tried to force me into surgery. When I refused, she slapped me!” She covered her face, sobbing violently, her shoulders shaking as the room filled with her cries.
