Chapter 4

Serena’s POV

The line went silent for two beats.

"Jordan," Aaron's voice came through, dripping with bored condescension, background chatter buzzing behind him. "Are you two really pulling this pathetic act again? What, she just wants me to come running? She's been using this exact same trick since we were kids."

"She is literally dying!" Jordan hissed, barely keeping his voice down. "Are you coming or not? Get here right now, or you'll never see her again in this lifetime!"

"Not interested," Aaron said. "If she loves drama, let her perform."

"Aaron," Jordan’s voice shook. "I'm in the emergency room. She just came out of surgery with critical injuries. If you don't come..."

"If I don't come, she dies?" Aaron cut him off with a dry chuckle. "Dr. Cole, how many years have you been delivering that exact same line for her?"

He was about to end the call.

With the last shred of my strength, I reached out, grabbed Jordan's wrist, and weakly shook my head.

"Don't... don't make him come," I whispered. "I don't want to see him."

Jordan froze. "What? Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Hang... hang up."

I didn't want him near me.

I owed his family a life; all he saw was a cheap performance.

If he stood beside my bed and sneered that I was faking it again, I would carry that insult straight into the grave.

Gritting his teeth, Jordan yelled into the phone, "You'll regret this!" before violently hanging up.

He slammed the phone onto the nightstand, turning to look at me, his eyes bloodshot.

The moment the call ended, the vitals that had been steadily plummeting miraculously began to stabilize.

The flatlining monitor line curved back into a steady rhythm.

A few days later, Jordan pushed open the door to my room again.

"Serena, looking at your scans, you have to stay admitted for systematic treatment," he said, spreading the reports out. "If you delay any longer, there really won't be time left."

"I'm not staying."

"I've already secured the bed," Jordan urged, pushing the files closer. "A private room, right by the window. You don't have to worry about the cost. All you have to do is say yes."

I shook my head.

"Then give me a number," Jordan snapped, his voice tight. "How many more years are you going to spend paying this debt? When does it finally end?"

"Jordan," I murmured, staring at him. "Someone like me should have died a long time ago. I should have stayed under those wheels back then."

"Luke took that hit for you!" Jordan's voice trembled with anger. "He traded his life so you could live! And this is how you throw it away? Serena, the person you're failing isn't Aaron—it's Luke!"

I turned my face away, falling completely silent.

Tears soaked into my hairline, but I didn't wipe them away.

Everything Jordan said, I already knew better than anyone.

Every single day I drew breath was stolen from Luke. The only purpose I could find for those stolen days was to settle the score with Luke's brother.

I shut my eyes, sealing away every thought left unsaid.

In the end, I refused to stay admitted.

The moment my superficial wounds began to close, I slipped out of the hospital. By the time the nurses noticed, I was already in the back of a cab.

There were only two days left until Luke’s memorial.

I bought a bouquet of white lilies and climbed the cemetery hill alone.

The memorial park was deathly quiet, pine needles carpeting the ground.

I knelt before Luke’s headstone, carefully set the flowers down, and used my sleeve to wipe the dust off his photograph.

The boy in the picture was forever young, smiling warmly back at me.

"I came to see you," I whispered. "Luke, why did you push me out of the way that night? You could have saved yourself."

A gust of wind swept through the pines, dropping dry needles onto my shoulders.

No one answered.

I stayed crouched there for a long time, until my legs were completely numb, before steadying myself against the stone to stand.