Chapter 2

Mia's POV

Through the anesthetic fog, I hear someone calling my name.

It's my brother. Ryan, who's usually so calm and composed, is shouting at the doctor: "Save her! Do you hear me? You have to save my sister!"

My throat feels stuffed with cotton. I can't make a sound.

A nurse is yelling: "We need family to sign! Where's the patient's husband?"

Ryan's voice cuts through, ice cold: "I'm her brother. Her husband's dead."

He's right.

To me, Ethan really is dead. Died that stormy night, died in that phone call he never picked up.

The surgery drags on. I catch fragments—the doctor saying "placental abruption," "hemorrhaging," the machines beeping frantically.

Pain crashes over me in waves. I'm drifting in and out of darkness, and suddenly I'm seeing Ethan on one knee, proposing. He promised he'd always be there for me.

When I wake up, Ryan is sitting beside the bed. His suit is completely wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot. He holds a cup of water to my lips: "You're awake? Your daughter's in the NICU. Doctor says she's healthy."

"Don't be scared," Ryan squeezes my hand. "I'm here."

My phone buzzes on the pillow.

New post from Scarlett.

In the photo, Ethan's wearing a rain-soaked shirt, cooking something in a cramped kitchen. An old lightbulb sits on the counter beside him.

Caption: "Power went out and I was literally losing it but Ethan drove through the storm to save me 🥺 Still shaking but his chicken noodle soup is helping 💕 #MyHero"

Ethan's reply, posted seconds later: "Better eat it before it gets cold. Don't be scared, I'm here."

I stare at those words—"I'm here"—and my stomach lurches.

A hundred times worse than any nausea from the anesthesia.

I just had four pints of blood pumped into me on the operating table. The doctor said I almost didn't make it.

And my husband was changing lightbulbs for another woman, making her soup.

Telling her "Don't be scared, I'm here."

Ryan sees my screen and snatches the phone away. His face darkens.

"I'm going to kill him."

I grab my brother's sleeve and shake my head, using every bit of strength I have left.

Ryan stares at me. "You're still protecting him?"

"No," my voice comes out barely above a whisper. "I just don't want you going to prison over trash like him."

I meet Ryan's eyes. "Help me file for divorce. Fast."