Chapter 2

When I woke up, the room was filled with strangers. A group of young doctors in white coats stood around my bed, whispering among themselves.

"Who... who are you?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

One of them, a young man with glasses, stepped forward. "We're residents, Ms. Maynard. Dr. Miles is our mentor. He said we could observe your case."

Before he could continue, a sharp female voice cut him off. "Observe what? How to leech off a wealthy family?"

I turned my head. The speaker was a girl with a sneer on her face. Standing beside her, looking shy and innocent, was Kalea Hampton.

"You're the one who's been holding Dr. Miles back, aren't you?" the girl continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "Clinging to him because of some old family favor. You're just using their guilt to trap him."

Her words were ugly, but they were true. A wave of shame washed over me. For years, I had accepted the Miles family' s care, believing it was my due. I had let myself be bound by this "debt of gratitude."

"If it weren't for you, Dr. Miles would be free to be with the person he truly loves," she said, glancing pointedly at Kalea. "Someone who deserves him. Not some freeloader."

Kalea looked down, a faint blush on her cheeks, the very picture of a wronged but gentle soul. The sight made my stomach turn.

Another resident chimed in, "I bet it was your mother's idea. She probably pushed you on the Miles family the moment your father died, hoping to secure a rich son-in-law."

"Yeah, what a schemer."

They sneered and gossiped, their words twisting the memory of my mother, a woman who had only ever wanted me to be happy.

That was the one thing I couldn't bear.

"Stop it," I croaked, pushing myself up. "Don't you dare talk about my mother."

Anger gave me a burst of strength. I swung my hand, intending to slap the girl who had insulted my mom.

But in a flash, Kalea moved, placing herself directly in my path.

My hand connected with her cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, but the sound echoed in the silent room.

Kalea stumbled back, a hand flying to her face, her eyes wide with feigned shock.

"Elyse! What the hell are you doing?"

Drake' s furious voice boomed from the doorway. He had just walked in. He saw Kalea clutching her cheek and me with my hand still raised.

He didn't hesitate. He strode over, shoved me back onto the bed with such force that my head hit the headboard, and pulled Kalea behind him protectively.

"Are you insane?" he snarled at me. The sheer force of his anger was something I had never seen before.

I stared at him, my heart aching with a fresh wave of pain. He had never, ever spoken to me like that.

He turned to Kalea, his voice softening instantly. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" He gently brushed her cheek, his touch full of a tenderness he no longer showed me. He led her out of the room, promising to get her some ice.

The other residents shot me looks of disgust before following them out.

A few minutes later, Drake returned, his face a cold, hard mask.

"Apologize to her," he commanded.

I stared at him, silent and defiant. I would not apologize for a trap she had set herself.

"Did you hear me?" His voice was dangerously low. "You've been spoiled by my family for too long, Elyse. You think you can just hit people whenever you want?"

"They were insulting my mother," I said, my voice shaking. "Kalea stepped in front of her on purpose. I didn't mean to hit her."

Drake' s expression didn't soften. It grew colder. "And you think they were wrong? You think you aren't holding me back?"

The world stopped. My breath caught in my throat. He was agreeing with them. He believed I was the villain in this story. He saw me as a burden.

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. "Fine," I whispered. "I'll apologize."

Dragging my aching body out of bed, I walked slowly toward his office. The hallway seemed impossibly long.

Kalea was alone in his office, sitting in his chair. She looked up as I entered, a flicker of triumph in her eyes before it was replaced by a look of gentle concern.

I remembered all the times Drake had told me his office was off-limits. "Work is work, Elyse," he would say. "No distractions."

Apparently, his principles only applied to people he didn't care about.

The pain in my chest was so sharp it was hard to breathe.

I swallowed my pride, my dignity, my love. "Kalea," I said, my voice flat. "I'm sorry."

She stood up, feigning surprise. "Oh, Ms. Maynard, please don't say that. You're Dr. Miles's fiancée. You're my teacher's wife. I should be the one apologizing."

"Don't call her that," Drake said from the doorway. He had followed me. His brow was furrowed in annoyance. He didn't want the woman he loved calling me his wife, not even in pretence.

The final piece of my broken heart crumbled into dust.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Miles," Kalea said, looking down meekly. "I'll be more careful." She turned to me. "Ms. Maynard, I forgive you. It was just a misunderstanding."

Her magnanimity was more insulting than any slap.

"You can go now," Drake said to me, his tone dismissive.

I turned, my nails digging into my palms, and walked out.

I didn't make it far. As I passed the door, someone rushing down the hall bumped into me. I lost my balance and fell to the floor, my body screaming in protest.

From inside the office, I heard Drake's worried voice. "Kalea, are you alright? Did that startle you?"

I lay on the cold, hard floor, completely ignored.

The dam finally broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. I covered my mouth to stifle the sobs that wracked my body.

A few minutes later, Drake and Kalea walked out of the office. He said he was taking her for a special lunch to "de-stress." They walked right past me as if I were invisible.

During the rest of my hospital stay, I was forced to listen to the nurses and residents coo over how dedicated Dr. Miles was to his promising student, Kalea. They went to academic conferences together. He personally guided her through complex procedures. He bought her lunch every day.

Each story was a new wound. He had always been "too busy" for those things with me.

My heart felt like it was being methodically torn to shreds. I stopped speaking, stopped reacting.

One night, staring out the window at the city lights, a sense of calm washed over me. It was the calm of absolute finality.

I was done.

I would set him free. And I would set myself free.