Five years ago, I got pregnant with Ethan Bennett’s child. That baby got me into the Bennett family. I married him, became his wife—at least on paper.

In all those five years, Ethan never gave a damn about me or our son. Cold as ice. Didn’t show up. Didn’t call. Didn’t care.

Three days ago, Charlie and I got hit by a car. He didn’t make it.

And Ethan? He was off in the Swiss Alps, living out some dream with his high school sweetheart, Olivia Lane.

It’s been three days. My son’s gone. Ethan still hasn’t shown his goddamn face.

Chapter 1

People came and went at the funeral home, sobbing like they actually gave a damn. I stood by the kitchen sink, drinking a glass of water, hands shaking, stomach churning. Behind me, I heard two women giggling, whispering like they were in on a secret.

“Can you believe the kid’s been dead for days and his dad hasn’t even come back?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

One of them leaned in, dropped her voice to a hush. “Ethan went off to the Alps with Olivia. No signal up there. The Bennett family’s been blowing up his phone like crazy. Not a single call got through.”

“Maybe he’s just ignoring them,” the other one snorted. “Everybody knows she only got in the family ‘cause she got knocked up. If it weren’t for that, Ethan would’ve been with Olivia years ago.”

Their words dug into my ears like knives.

Everything blurred. I passed out right there in the middle of the funeral hall.

Someone shoved meds down my throat. I woke up to the same muffled whispers, the pounding ache in my skull splitting me open. I buried my face in the pillow, tried to disappear. All I could smell was salt and sweat—my own damn tears soaking the fabric for days.

Charlie was gone. And Ethan still wasn’t back.

The room quieted suddenly—only for a heavy pair of footsteps to fill the silence. Someone muttered, “Ethan… you finally showed up.”

Ethan?

No way. He was in Switzerland. With Olivia. She’d never let him come back. She’d picked Charlie’s birthday, of all damn days, to fly off with Ethan. That night, Charlie sat there, waiting for his dad, staring at the untouched birthday cake. He didn’t even eat a bite, and that kid loved cake more than anything.

He just looked up at me and asked, “Mom… when’s Dad coming back?”

He didn’t cry. Never did. Charlie was a good kid. He knew his dad didn’t love him. Didn’t love me.

All he ever wanted was one birthday with his father.

But that never came.

The chair beside my bed scraped against the floor. Someone sat down.

I knew that scent.

I didn’t need to look. I could feel it in my bones—it was Ethan. I’d spent five years lying next to that body. I could recognize him blind.

Once, I would’ve given anything for him to touch me. Now? I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, like he always did.

Same cold-ass apology.

The last time we spoke, I’d grabbed his sleeve, tears in my eyes, begging, “Can’t you go tomorrow? Today’s Charlie’s birthday. He just wants you there.”

He peeled my hand off him like I was nothing. “Sorry. Olivia’s waiting.”

But his son was waiting too.

Now Charlie was done waiting—for good.

I curled up tighter, buried my face deeper in the pillow. Ethan stayed sitting. I knew he knew I was awake. He always noticed everything. Always paranoid I’d try to trap him. Or hurt his precious Olivia.

“You awake?” His voice was flat. No grief, no guilt—just urgency. “Everyone’s gone downstairs. You should eat something.”

Eat?

My kid just died and he wants to talk about food?

Of course. Ethan never saw Charlie as his kid. And I? I was never his wife. Not really. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s scheming, I’d never have gotten in his bed. Never been Mrs. Bennett.

He hated me for that. Hated her, too.

Once, he told me we were just like the fable—“The Farmer and the Snake.”

Thinking about Charlie ripped through me. I pressed deeper into the pillow, voice cracked and raw. “Did you go see Charlie?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.” I bit down my sob. “You can go now.”

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he had the nerve to look annoyed. “Gracie, the kid was just five. What were you thinking, letting him go out alone? I’m his father. You owe me an explanation.”

I laughed—quiet, bitter.

Then I sat up. I must’ve looked like hell. Tears streaked across my face. My skin lined with indentations. Eyes sunken. Pale like a corpse.

Ethan, on the other hand? Sharp suit. Clean shave. That same cold, empty face.

Like he was interrogating a suspect. And I was the criminal.

“What’s funny?” he asked, frowning.

“You,” I said. My voice sounded like it could shatter. “You know where Charlie was trying to go?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me.

“He was trying to find you.”

“He called. Again and again. But you never picked up.”

“He said maybe you were lost. Maybe you couldn’t find your way home.”

Ethan hesitated. “You didn’t stop him?”

“How many times could I lie to him, huh? He was worried. He—” My breath caught. What was the point of explaining?

“It’s my fault,” I whispered.

The words echoed through the cold air like a damn explosion. Ethan’s eyes sharpened, like he was finally paying attention.

I met his stare head-on. “My fault for loving you. For marrying you. For having Charlie. For not protecting him.”

He said nothing.

“And the biggest mistake?” I smiled through the ache. “Thinking maybe, just maybe, we could ever go back.”

Then came the slap.

Not from Ethan.

His aunt—Aunt Vivian—stormed in, voice shrieking, hand flying. She smacked me so hard I barely registered the sting before the second one hit.

“You couldn’t even watch a damn child! You call yourself a mother?!”

Vivian never liked me. Never liked Charlie. She fed him spoiled food. Whispered poison in his ears about how his dad didn’t want him.

Now she was crying like she cared?

I sat there. Took the hits. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

Ethan just stood there, watching. Unmoved. Like always.

He never lifted a finger to help. Not for me. Not for Charlie.

There was a time, years ago, when I tripped and scraped my knee and he panicked, asking if I was okay again and again.

Now?

He watched someone beat me. Didn’t blink.

I used to love him. I really did.

From my teenage crush to my reluctant marriage. I loved him through the coldness. Through the distance. Through the shame.

But something in me finally broke.

I stood up. Grabbed Vivian’s arm.

And slapped her back.

She froze. Shocked. Eyes wide. Face red.

I didn’t owe anyone in that house a damn thing. Not her. Not them.

And Charlie? Charlie didn’t deserve any of this.

That slap?

I should’ve given it long ago.

Chapter 2

The day we went to lay Charlie to rest, the bruises on my face hadn’t even faded. My left cheek was swollen, claw marks still etched across my chin. If Ethan hadn’t finally stepped in and pulled Aunt Vivian off me, I probably would’ve left the house in worse shape.

Of course, he didn’t pull her off me out of concern. He pushed me. Like always.

The car was quiet as death. I stared blankly out the window, numb to the cold. Ethan sat beside me, murmuring into his phone—talking to Olivia Lane. On the day our son was being buried.

“Yeah… Still tied up for a few more days.”
“You go ahead.”
“Her? Yeah, she’s here.”

He glanced at me, then handed me his phone. “Olivia wants to talk to you.”

If it were before, I might’ve hurled the phone out the window. But without Charlie… What was the point?

I took the phone. It was still warm from his hand. I used to crave that warmth. His scent. His voice. His touch. Now it made my skin crawl.

“Grace,” Olivia’s voice came through the speaker, cheerful and syrupy. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer. Ethan’s presence loomed beside me. I knew if I said the wrong thing, he’d throw me out right here, right now. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I once made the mistake of confronting Olivia over the phone, telling her to stay out of our marriage. Ethan smashed my phone and left me out in a snowstorm. I walked two hours home, burning with fever for a week. He never checked in. It was Charlie who stayed by my bedside, his tiny hand pressed to my forehead, whispering, “Mommy, wake up.”

That kid was the reason I kept breathing.

Olivia’s voice turned into a whisper. “You must be miserable… losing your leverage.”

Leverage. That’s what she called my son.

And she wasn’t wrong. Without Charlie, I never would’ve gotten through the Bennett estate gates. And now that he was gone… what was left to hold onto?

My throat burned. “You can have him back.”

“What?”

“Ethan. He was always yours.”

Ethan snatched the phone from my hand and hung up, jaw tight. “What the hell are you telling her?”

What can a grieving mother say to the woman who stole everything?

Nothing.

I had nothing left to fight with. No more words. No more strength.

Charlie was buried in the soft drizzle of spring rain. His headstone had a photo from when he was three. We were supposed to take a family portrait that day. Ethan never showed. Just me and Charlie, surrounded by happy families posing for the camera.

Charlie didn’t smile. He tried, for me. But I knew.

I knelt at the grave, hands trembling, whispering apologies, praying he’d get better parents in his next life. Someone who would love him. Really love him.

A shadow passed. A figure in a black coat stepped up to the grave. Ethan. He bent down, left something in front of the headstone.

When he stepped back, I saw what it was:

A box of racing car Legos.

I grabbed his sleeve. He flinched, murmured, “Not here. We can talk at home.”

“What is that?”

“His birthday gift. He asked for it. I didn’t get the chance…”

“He asked you for that?”

“We made plans.”

I collapsed, knees giving out. My son had begged for his dad’s attention. Got nothing but silence. And when I handed him a cheap plastic watch and lied, told him it was from Ethan… he believed me. Smiled. Said he wanted to thank his dad.

He knew.

He knew the truth.

And he smiled anyway.

Chapter 3

Back at the Bennett estate, the air was thick. Ethan’s father, Frank Bennett Sr., waited, cane in hand, face like thunder. But when he saw me, his voice softened.

“Gracie, go upstairs, honey.”

I knew what that meant.

He was about to lay into Ethan.

Frank Sr. was the only person in that house who ever treated me like I mattered. Years ago, my dad saved his life. After Dad passed, Frank gave my mom a job as a housekeeper and made sure I got into the same school as Ethan. Told him to take care of me.

Ethan did. At first.

But I went and fell for him. Stupid, naive, infatuated.

Now Frank was pissed Ethan had been late to his own son’s funeral.

A maid rushed up to me, begging, “He listens to you! Please, talk to Mr. Bennett, stop him!”

Why should I?

I used to love Ethan. Back when I still had something left in me. But after everything—after watching him chase Olivia like some desperate dog—that love had died. Buried right alongside Charlie.

I packed my things. Nothing of mine in those boxes. Just Charlie’s toys.

I took off my earrings. Left them on the vanity. Walked out like I never belonged there.

Ethan was on his knees, blood dripping onto the polished floor. Frank Sr. stood over him, cane still trembling in his grip.

I kept walking.

“Gracie…” Frank called out, voice hoarse.

I turned. “Uncle Frank.”

Not “Dad.” Never again.

He looked like he aged ten years overnight. “This is my fault. I raised a selfish bastard. If your mom were here… if she knew what we did to you… to Charlie…”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

I helped him to the couch. Caught Ethan watching us, eyes red, face unreadable.

“You need to take care of Uncle Frank,” I said quietly. “His health is on the edge. Don’t push him.”

I walked past Ethan. He grabbed my wrist.

“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”

Because there’s no grief greater than a heart gone numb.

I didn’t answer. Just ripped my hand free.

And kept walking.

Chapter 4

Three days after I left the Bennett estate, I passed out alone in my apartment.

Didn’t come as a surprise. I’d been diagnosed with stomach cancer two months ago. Back then, Charlie was still alive, so I clung to hope and treatment like a lifeline. I even told Ethan the day I got the results.

He didn’t even flinch. Just stared at me like I was some pest he couldn’t wait to be rid of.

I had planned to beat the cancer and take Charlie far away from that cursed house.

But I guess now I’ll be joining him instead.

What I never told anyone: Charlie ran out that day because I collapsed. He panicked. He didn’t know how to call 911. All he thought about was finding his dad.

Of all people, the first face I saw when I came to… was Dr. Adrian Blake.

We were classmates once. He came from nothing, worked his ass off, was always buried in books. The complete opposite of Ethan—rich, arrogant, entitled.

Back in school, Ethan told me Adrian was fake, acting all noble and righteous. Warned me to stay away. I defended Adrian. Ethan accused me of turning against him.

Adrian always wanted to be a doctor. I believed he’d make it, and he did. What I didn’t expect was to be his first patient after he returned from years of study abroad.

He stood by the bed in his white coat, calm and serious. A stark contrast to the mess I’d become.

It reminded me of when we were teens and he’d scold me for slacking. “Gracie, how can you sleep like a baby when your grades are shit?”

And I’d smirk, flip my hair. “Ethan said he’d take me abroad. Said I didn’t need to work that hard.”

Adrian’s look back then? Disgusted. And now? I finally understood it.

Depending on a man who doesn’t love you? Always a recipe for disaster.

I am living proof.

Still, Adrian saved me. I wiggled my stiff fingers around the IV, forcing a smile. “Hey.”

He didn’t say much. Sent a nurse in to handle the rest.

They told me a neighbor had found me and brought me in. The nurse asked for an emergency contact.

I smiled. “No parents. No family. No one.”

She frowned with sympathy. Even pulled the needle out softer.

“Dr. Blake wants you to get imaging and a full workup,” she said gently.

I threw on the same old coat I had when I left the Bennett house. I didn’t take anything with me. None of it was mine. I half-expected Ethan to show up just to demand it all back.

The coat was years old. Thin. Pilled at the sleeves. I wrapped my arms around myself and muttered, “I’m fine. Just passed out from exhaustion. Nothing serious.”

In the Bennett estate, I was never seen as anything more than a gold-digging intruder. No one believed I deserved to be Mrs. Bennett. Not even Ethan.

I didn’t live like a wife. More like an unpaid maid.

So yeah, I’d gotten tough. Inside and out.

The nurse didn’t buy it, not fully. My face was as pale as the guy in the next bed’s—and he was terminal.

Which, funny enough, so was I.

When Charlie was still alive, I ran from clinic to clinic looking for anything that might save me. Took every pill. Endured every bout of vomiting.

Now I paid the hospital bill myself, hands shaking. Walking back out, stomach aching, eyes blurry…

And then I saw them.

Ethan.

Wearing the coat I bought him. Holding Olivia in his arms.

She was wearing a scarf I’d hand-knit for Ethan with my own two hands. I asked him about it countless times. He always said, “I must’ve lost it.”

He didn’t lose it.

He gave it to her.

Could’ve trashed it. Burned it. But no. He used it to humiliate me.

And somehow, I didn’t feel anger. Just… stillness.

Maybe that was the moment every last drop of love I had left for Ethan evaporated.

My son was gone.

My marriage? Dead on arrival.

He had his new future. I had nothing.

I remembered all the times I gave Ethan gifts that ended up in Olivia’s hands. Scarves, ties, even a birthday card that I later found in the trash.

I remembered the night I waited for him till midnight on his mom’s memorial day, only to see Olivia post on her story: You always break my heart in the most beautiful way.

I remembered how Charlie held my hand, told me, “Don’t be sad, Mommy. Daddy’s just bad at showing love.”

Poor baby.

Ethan wasn’t bad at showing love.

He just didn’t love us.

Chapter 5

Half a month after Charlie died, I lived on painkillers.

The pain spread like fire. Every meal made it worse. Eventually, even water was agony.

I’d clutch Charlie’s teddy bear just to sleep. Sometimes I’d wonder: was Charlie in pain when he died? Did he hurt like this?

Probably worse.

He didn’t have morphine.

And I wasn’t there to protect him.

Then came the knock.

If not for the pain still alive in my bones, I’d have thought it was Death come for me.

But it was Adrian.

And I looked like hell.

He used to be aloof. Cold. Barely spoke a word unless I begged him to help me study. Now? What the hell was he doing here?

“Gracie,” he said, firm. “You need more tests. Your condition’s worsening.”

He could see through me in a second. That’s what good doctors do.

His face was more mature now, jaw sharper, eyes harder. Ethan always called him a stuck-up asshole. Maybe because Adrian never lowered himself for anyone.

And I couldn’t let him see me like this.

“You bored, Doc? Trying to rack up bonuses with extra tests?”

He flinched.

“I’ll pay you. Just leave me the hell alone.”

I shoved a wad of cash into his hand.

He left.

Of course he did.

Nobody sticks around for the screaming, dying mess.

Swallowed more pills. Pulled the curtains closed. Started to drift when I saw it.

Two shadows arguing in the yard.

Adrian.

Ethan.

What the hell was he doing here?

Shouldn’t he be playing house with Olivia?

They were shouting. I rushed downstairs, pain shooting through my gut, and stepped between them.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Ethan stood tall, coat flapping in the wind. Moonlight etched his face like a statue. He looked at Adrian with pure venom. Same look he had in school anytime Adrian helped me carry books or grabbed me a drink.

“You don’t have hands, Gracie? You need him to wipe your ass too?”

He never let another man near me. But he gave all his warmth to Olivia without a second thought.

I stepped in front of Adrian. Tugged his sleeve. “Just go. Please.”

He listened. Barely.

Ethan watched it all with a face like stone. Then he laughed. Cold and sharp.

“Left your pretty little life behind to shack up with your new boy toy, huh?”

Pretty little life?

What part of it was pretty?

Being ignored? Hated? Losing my son?

“You keep that life. Give it to Olivia. Hope you choke on your happily ever after.”

I said it calmly. Like I was turning down dinner.

Ethan looked startled. Maybe he thought this was just another tantrum. That I’d come crawling back.

“You serious, Grace?”

“This is what you always wanted, right? Me gone?”

He nodded. Smirked. “Fine. Just don’t come begging later.”

He turned to leave.

And I wondered: what’s later?

That night, Olivia posted on her story.

We made it.

A picture of a diamond ring.

They were engaged.

Chapter 6

The cancer was spreading. God knows how far. I faced it with a smile now, almost relieved.

Maybe I’d finally get to see Charlie again.

It’d been over two weeks. I missed him so damn much. Funny thing? I hadn’t thought of Ethan once.

Back then, I lived for Ethan—packed his bags, handled his appointments, dealt with his family drama. He’d come home drunk from business dinners, I’d undress him, clean him up, feed him soup. And all the while, he’d be on the phone with Olivia.

Different beds, different worlds.

Even on business trips, he ignored my calls. The only time someone answered? It was Olivia.

She’d laugh and purr, “Ethan’s asleep. You really are annoying, you know that? No wonder he can’t stand you.”

I remember saying, “Take care of him, then.”

And her reply? Cold as glass. “Did you really think you were his wife? If you hadn’t tricked him, do you honestly think you’d be Mrs. Bennett?”

I had nothing to say.

Now that I’m out of that hellhole, I can finally breathe.

I wasn’t at the hospital for treatment. Just wanted to grab some meds. I was hoping to make it to Christmas. Charlie loved Christmas.

Maybe if I met him that day, it’d feel like a gift.

Walking out of the hospital, bundled up in a scarf and heavy coat, I must’ve still looked like death. Bones showing through the sleeves. Eyes hollow.

Dr. Adrian Blake followed me out, coat flapping in the wind.

He caught up, eyes glued to my face. I pulled the scarf higher.

“Gracie…”

He hesitated. “Where are you heading?”

“Bus station.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. I almost refused. But he was already walking.

“Did Ethan freak out after I showed up last time?” Adrian asked. “He always assumed something was going on between us.”

I shook my head. “No. We’re divorced.”

Adrian laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I heard about the marriage while I was overseas. I was shocked. He even showed up, told me not to go. Said you…”

He trailed off. “Never mind. Ethan’s always been a mess. He warned me not to fall for you but swore you were like a sister.”

“When did he say that?”

“Right after Olivia showed up.”

It all came rushing back. Before Olivia, Ethan used to steal my sodas. He’d take a sip, kiss my cheek, and say, “Don’t drink too many cold ones. This one’s mine now.”

We had moments. Real ones.

Once, I asked him why he didn’t set the record straight when people talked.

He just stared at me. “Explain what?”

The air between us thickened. Then the driver showed up, and that was it.

After that, he changed. Cold. Distant. Wouldn’t even drive me to school. Told me not to bother him.

Then Olivia came.

And suddenly, I was invisible.

When people asked, “Aren’t you and Grace a thing?” he sneered, “She’s just here because her dad saved mine. I don’t owe her anything.”

That birthday when I called him, he snapped. Told me never to speak of our relationship again. Said I should ask myself if I even deserved to be in his house.

I stopped dreaming after that.

Even Mom warned me not to hope for anything more.

But then she shoved me into his bed.

And that was the end of me.

I looked at Adrian now. “There’s nothing between me and Ethan. Not anymore.”

Somehow, Ethan heard about that.

That night, under a sky dark enough to drown in, he stood by his car in just a suit. Smoke coiled around his fingers.

“Nothing?” he said, voice low. “You gave birth to my son.”

I smiled. “Our son is dead. There is nothing now.”

He didn’t speak.

The cigarette burned to the filter.

“We can have more,” he murmured.

I almost laughed. “Yeah. You and Olivia can have a dozen.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you? You and Adrian gonna pop one out too?”

I didn’t even register the insult. I just wanted to escape him.

“Sure. Think what you want.”

I turned.

He grabbed my arm, voice harsh. “You’re still my wife.”

“Not for long.”

The wind stung my throat.

He studied me, as if searching for a lie. “You think you can survive without me?”

I already haven’t been surviving. With or without him.

Next thing I knew, he froze my assets. Took back the apartment. Left me with nothing.

And then he got engaged.

Less than a month after Charlie died.

Everyone talked. How joyous it was. How furious Frank Sr. was. How the Bennetts gossiped behind closed doors.

I heard it all.

Didn’t feel a damn thing.

When Olivia called, I was swallowing painkillers.

“Gracie, Ethan and I are getting married. End of next month.”

“Congrats,” I said, and hung up.

Ethan had been sitting right next to her when she made that call. His face? Gray. Lifeless.

Maybe he finally realized I was really gone.

I had no home.

He called. I was standing at a bus terminal, suitcase in hand, people moving like ghosts.

“Gracie,” he said softly. “One more chance. Come back.”

My eyes stung. He was being kind. Maybe nostalgic. But where was this kindness when Charlie was still alive?

Too late.

I held Charlie’s teddy bear, his scent still clinging to the fur. Like he was right there.

“I’m not coming back, Ethan. Never.”

I looked into the bear’s eyes. Like looking into my son’s soul.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for staying. For not divorcing you sooner. For letting Uncle Frank hold me back. I should’ve left. I should’ve let you be happy with Olivia.”

I ended the call.

Before the bus left, Adrian texted me:

Gracie. You have stage four stomach cancer. Why aren’t you fighting?

Chapter 7

Adrian found me on the beach.

It was on Charlie’s bucket list. I’d written it all down, trying to complete each wish before I died.

First: a birthday with Dad.
Crossed off.

Second: a family trip to the ocean.
Well, I’m the only family he had left. So I came.

The sand was soft and cold under my feet. Waves licked at my ankles. And I cried into the wind, salt on salt. Cried for all the promises I never kept. If only I had brought him here when he was alive.

But I was always chasing a picture-perfect family. I kept waiting for Ethan to show up, and now it was too damn late.

By the time I got back to the hotel, I was barely holding it together. And there he was—Adrian, standing outside my room like a ghost with a stethoscope.

“Are you trying to die out here, Gracie?” he snapped.

Yeah, actually.

I didn’t even make it through the door. Collapsed in pain. Lucky for me, he was a doctor.

He wanted to take me back to the hospital. But what was the point? At this stage, a hospital bed was just a place to bleed money.

I was already broke.

Adrian had paid my last hospital bill. He’d always been broke himself—the kid with the faded collar and frayed cuffs, pressed white shirts and secondhand shoes. He wasn’t like Ethan.

Maybe that’s why I had to pay him back.

It was Adrian—not the man I’d loved for ten years—who saved my life, who stayed, who paid for my meds.

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

He didn’t answer. Just wrapped a clean scarf around my neck and said, “You were kind to me first.”

Was I?

I didn’t remember.

“You were too busy worshipping Ethan back then. You didn’t notice people like me.”

There was bitterness in his voice. And pain.

He gave me more meds. Looked me dead in the eye.

“These pills won’t save you. You need chemo. Now.”

“Will it cure me?”

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. No doctor promises miracles.

“I just want to die pretty,” I said. “So Charlie will recognize me. I don’t want to scare him.”

Adrian looked away. His eyes were glassy.

“If you want help planning your funeral, I’m out,” he said.

“No, not that. I just… could you take a picture of me? Something nice. Something I can show Charlie, wherever he is.”

There was a beachfront restaurant with a deck overlooking the water. I changed into a clean outfit and stepped outside. Couldn’t stand long, but I leaned against the railing, tried to smile.

Adrian took the photos. Tried to make me look good. But you can’t hide terminal illness behind a smile.

Just as I was trying to hold the pose, a shadow appeared behind him.

Ethan.

He snatched Adrian’s phone.

Deleted every photo.

“You know how long I’ve been looking for you?” he snapped. “And this is where I find you? With him?”

Adrian stepped forward. Probably to tell him about the cancer.

I grabbed Adrian’s arm instead. Held on tight. “Congratulations on the wedding, Ethan.”

I turned toward the door. Knocked.

“Olivia? You coming out?”

Four of us at one table. Just like high school. Except this time, the tension was so thick it could cut bone.

Olivia acted like we were all best friends again. Picked up food, dropped it in my bowl. “Gracie, you look awful. Are you eating at all?”

Ethan looked at me too. Like maybe, just maybe, he cared.

“Is this how your new guy takes care of you?” he muttered.

Adrian went still. “Her diet isn’t your business anymore.”

“He takes care of me just fine,” I said. “Unlike some people.”

I used to follow Ethan around like a puppy. Waited up when he came home late. Took care of him when he was sick. Loved him even when he didn’t love me back.

But that Grace? She died with Charlie.

Olivia tried to lighten the mood. Placed her hand on Ethan’s. “See, I told you she was fine. You didn’t need to worry.”

He pulled away.

That’s when I noticed: she wasn’t wearing a ring.

But Ethan was.

The same wedding band I gave him.

He never wore it before. Not even once.

And now?

What kind of sick joke was this?

“Gracie, you used to love spicy food,” Olivia said cheerfully, dropping a piece of lamb in my bowl.

The smell hit my gut like a fist.

Adrian pushed the plate away. “That was before. She can’t eat that anymore.”

“Still protecting her, huh? You two always were a good match. Should’ve seen it coming,” Olivia snorted.

“Enough,” Ethan snapped. “Shut your damn mouth.”

Olivia blinked. Shocked. The great Ethan Bennett had never spoken to her like that.

Not even when she used to mock me in school, whisper shit when I sat with Adrian.

Ethan always stood by her. Always made the jokes worse.

Now he was mad?

He shoved the plate back toward me.

“One bite won’t kill you.”

“Will it make you happy?” I said, tears burning my eyes.

Then I ate it. Swallowed it. Watched his expression go slack.

Adrian ripped the chopsticks from my hand.

“Are you insane?!”

“It’s just food. Not poison. I’m not dying. Not yet.”

The pain came fast.

Cramping. Sharp. Fire in my belly.

Adrian stood up fast, panic in his voice. “Jesus, Ethan. She has—”

He cut himself off.

I clutched his hand. Shook my head.

Ethan squinted. “She has what?”

“Gastritis,” Adrian lied.

I doubled over. Blood in my palm.

Gastritis, huh?

Since the beach, Ethan had been showing up more and more. And my health kept spiraling.

One day he tried dragging me to the hospital.

I shoved his hand away. “Leave me the hell alone.”

He looked shaken. “You never told me you were sick.”

My voice rasped. Felt like sandpaper. “Go take care of Olivia.”

“Aren’t you scared I’ll actually marry her?”

He gripped my wrist hard.

“Without Charlie, what’s the point of being your wife anymore?” I spat. “Go. Be fruitful. Multiply.”

He’d have more kids. Probably a whole football team.

But none of them would be Charlie.

Then he hit me with it. His voice breaking.

“Gracie… if you had to choose… me or Charlie?”

“Charlie,” I said.

“If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

He didn’t respond.

I went upstairs. Slammed the door.

Swallowed pills.

Pain shot through me like fire.

Rushed to the bathroom. Blood. So much blood.

Looked out the window. Ethan was still there.

A statue in the wind.

Later, the phone rang.

He was drunk.

“Gracie… I miss Charlie.”

I hung up.

Blocked his number.

This cancer? This was my punishment.

And I accepted it.

But I still had two more of Charlie’s wishes to fulfill.