Chapter 2

Kianna woke up to the sterile white of a hospital room. It was empty. The silence was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic beep of a machine beside her bed.

A sharp pain shot up her leg when she tried to move. She looked down and saw the thick white cast that encased it from her thigh to her ankle.

A nurse came in, her expression professionally cheerful. "Oh, you're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," Kianna mumbled.

"You're lucky. A broken femur and a concussion, but you'll recover," the nurse said, checking her vitals. "Your... friend is very worried about you."

"My friend?"

"Yes, Mr. Berg. He's been here all night. He's just in the room next door, with his girlfriend. Poor girl just has a few scratches, but she was so scared."

His girlfriend. The word was a slap in the face.

"He told us you were his childhood friend, visiting from out of town," the nurse continued, oblivious to Kianna's turmoil. "It's so sweet how he's taking care of both of you. He and Miss Collins make such a lovely couple, don't you think?"

Kianna forced a tight smile. "Yes. Lovely."

The door opened and Brayden walked in. He looked exhausted, his hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes. He stopped when he saw she was awake. He was holding her phone, the one with the shattered screen.

"I found this in the elevator," he said, his voice rough. "I saw your search history."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You were looking up flights to Boston. And MIT's admissions office."

Kianna gave a bitter, humorless laugh. "What, you thought I was going to stalk you? Don't worry, Brayden. I know my place."

He seemed relieved by her words, and that hurt more than anything. It confirmed that he, too, saw her as something less, something that could be easily left behind. She knew then that he wouldn't care if she left. He would probably be glad.

"Kianna, I'm sorry," he said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"It's fine," she said, turning her face away. "You were worried about Jesse. I get it."

"She's... delicate," he tried to explain. "She's not used to hardship. You are. You're strong."

Her strength. The thing he always praised was now the excuse for his betrayal. Because she could handle pain, she was expected to. The unfairness of it made her want to scream. But she was too tired. Too broken.

She just nodded.

The years they spent together, the sacrifices she made, the love they shared-it was all meaningless now. In his world, a woman's strength was not a virtue to be admired, but a convenience to be exploited.

"Jesse has a rare blood type," he said, his voice suddenly low and urgent. "And she lost some blood. The hospital is low on her type. It's O-negative."

Kianna felt a chill run down her spine. She knew where this was going. She was also O-negative.

Her face must have gone pale, because he rushed to speak.

"Kianna, please," he begged, his voice cracking. "She needs a transfusion. Can you... can you do this for me?"

For him. Not for a stranger in need, but for him. A favor. As if she owed him anything.

The audacity of it was breathtaking. He had chosen Jesse over her, left her broken and bleeding in a metal box, and now he was asking her to give Jesse her blood. To literally pour her life force into the woman who had taken her place.

The room was silent. Kianna could hear the frantic beating of her own heart.

Then, she smiled. A wide, bright, terrifying smile.

"Of course, Bray." The old nickname felt like acid on her tongue. "Anything for you."

Brayden looked startled by her easy agreement, but his relief was palpable.

Just then, another nurse burst into the room. "Mr. Berg! Miss Collins's pressure is dropping! We need that blood now!"

Brayden shot up from the bed. "Kianna, please," he said again, his eyes wide with panic.

Without waiting for an answer, he scooped her up from the bed, cast and all. The sudden movement sent a wave of agony through her leg, but he didn't seem to notice. He ran, carrying her like a sack of potatoes, down the hall to the collection room.

The needle was thick. It hurt going in. Kianna watched her own dark red blood flow through the clear tube, carrying her life away to save her rival.

Tears streamed silently down her face. She remembered a time when she'd had to give blood for a physical. She was scared of needles. Brayden had been there, holding her hand, gently blowing on the puncture wound afterward, telling her she was the bravest girl in the world.

Now, he stood by the door, his eyes fixed on the bag of blood, his expression anxious and impatient. His gaze never once met hers.

The nurse finally pulled the needle out and pressed a cotton ball to the crook of her arm. Brayden rushed forward, taking the blood bag from the nurse and hurrying out of the room without a backward glance.

The nurse had trouble finding Kianna's vein, and her arm was already a canvas of blue and purple bruises.

Brayden came back a few minutes later. He took the cotton ball from the nurse and pressed it to Kianna's arm himself.

He leaned in and blew gently on the wound, a ghost of a familiar gesture. "Does it hurt?"

The tenderness in his voice, so out of place, so horribly late, was the final crack in her composure. A hot tear fell from her eye and landed on the back of his hand.

He flinched, looking up at her, confused. "Kianna?"

She wanted to scream, to hit him, to demand how he could be so cruel and then pretend to be so kind.

But before she could say anything, a doctor rushed in. "Mr. Berg! Miss Collins is awake, but she's agitated. She fell trying to get out of bed and is asking for you."

Brayden dropped her arm instantly. The cotton ball fell to the floor. He was gone in a flash, leaving her alone once more.

The small, white cotton ball lay on the sterile tile, a symbol of his fleeting, useless apology.

Kianna stared at it, her heart a cold, dead weight in her chest.

She didn't wait for him to come back. She checked herself out of the hospital, ignoring the doctor's protests. Leaning heavily on her crutches, her body screaming in protest, she made her way home.

When she opened the door to the house he had bought for them, the house that was supposed to be their future, she saw him.

He was in the living room, cradling Jesse in his arms, whispering comforting words as she sobbed against his chest.