Chapter 4
I didn't sleep after finding the blood.
Four hours later, exhaustion weighed me down like lead. Every time I'd closed my eyes, I saw those red drops - proof my body was breaking down faster than I'd thought.
Downstairs, Isabella was already up, flowing through her morning routine on a yoga mat in the living room. Her perfect warrior pose mocked every tremor in my hands.
The doorbell cut through the Saturday morning quiet.
"I'll get it!" Isabella bounced up, all energy and grace.
Through the hallway, I heard her surprised gasp, then a sharp, familiar voice: "Oh my God! Are you here to see Lily?"
My stomach dropped. That voice...
"Lily! I know this is a surprise, but I was in town and I just had to see you." Sarah appeared in the doorway, medical bag in hand, her eyes immediately scanning my face. "You look... tired. Are you getting enough rest?"
Shit. My college roommate, my best friend, my neurologist - Sarah was here, in my house, with her doctor's instincts and her protective streak. This was bad.
"Sarah, I didn't expect..." I struggled to my feet, gripping the chair arm for balance. "I'm fine, just adjusting to married life."
But Sarah's expression had already shifted. I watched her catalog every detail - my hollow cheeks, the way my hands shook, how carefully I moved. Her professional mask slipped for half a second before snapping back into place.
"I don't believe we've been introduced." Ethan's voice cut through the air like ice as he descended the stairs. "I'm Ethan Cross, Lily's husband."
Sarah straightened, her smile turning diplomatic. "I've heard so much about you. I'm Dr. Sarah Williams, Lily's oldest friend."
'Doctor.' The emphasis wasn't lost on Ethan. His eyes narrowed slightly, that calculating look I'd learned to fear.
"What brings you to New York so unexpectedly, Dr. Williams?" His tone was perfectly polite and completely dangerous.
"Medical conference at Mount Sinai," Sarah replied smoothly. "Couldn't pass up the chance to see how Lily's doing in her new life."
The way she said 'new life' made it sound like a disease.
Twenty minutes later, Sarah had managed to get me alone. She'd claimed we needed to catch up properly, and somehow convinced Ethan to take Isabella to the home gym downstairs for a workout session.
The moment their footsteps disappeared down to the basement, Sarah's professional demeanor vanished.
"Jesus Christ, Lily. Sit down. Now."
I perched on the edge of my bed as Sarah unpacked a portable reflex hammer and small flashlight from her bag.
"Your reflexes are deteriorating rapidly," she said in a low voice, testing my knee responses. "The muscle fasciculations are getting worse."
My leg jumped weakly under the hammer. Last year, that reflex would have been strong and immediate.
"Please don't say anything," I begged. "I just need a few more months... maybe until spring."
Sarah's face flushed with anger. "A few months? Lily, you might not have that long if we don't start aggressive treatment now."
Outside the door, I caught a shadow moving across the hallway. Footsteps that had been approaching suddenly stopped.
"I can't," I whispered. "You don't understand what he'd do if he knew."
"What could be worse than dying?" Sarah's voice cracked.
Through the thin walls, I heard the faint sound of Ethan's breathing on the other side of the door. How much had he heard?
Sarah seemed to sense it too. She lowered her voice even further. "The progression is accelerating. We need to discuss... options."
"No hospitals," I said firmly. "No treatments that would make it obvious."
The shadow outside the door shifted, then retreated down the hallway.
After Sarah left that afternoon, promising to "check in soon," I felt more alone than ever.
By evening, Isabella had transformed the master bedroom into an interior design war zone. Fabric samples, paint swatches, and furniture catalogs covered every surface.
"I want to completely redecorate," she announced to the designer she'd hired. "Remove any trace of... previous occupants."
I stood in the doorway, watching her erase what little remained of my presence in this house.
"Darling, don't you think it's time we talked about starting our own family?" Isabella purred to Ethan, her hand resting on her flat stomach. "A real family?"
The words hit like a physical blow. A real family. As opposed to whatever the hell this was.
"Some people are just passing through," Isabella continued, her eyes finding mine in the doorway, "but others are here to stay."
"I understand," I managed. "This is your home now."
Ethan said nothing, but I caught him studying my face with an expression I couldn't read.
Fuck this. I wasn't going to stand there and take more of their shit. If they wanted to play house, fine, but I wasn't disappearing quietly.
In the kitchen, I decided to make dinner—not because I wanted to serve them, but because I needed to prove I wasn't broken yet. I gripped the heavy soup pot with both hands, determined to show them I was still capable.
The spasm hit without warning.
My right hand seized up completely, fingers curling into a rigid claw. The pot of boiling tomato soup slipped from my grasp and crashed to the kitchen floor, scalding liquid spreading across the tiles in a crimson puddle.
"Ah! No, no, not now!" The words tore from my throat as my entire arm convulsed.
"What the hell was that?" Ethan appeared instantly, his face white with shock. "Are you having some kind of seizure?"
My mind raced even as my body betrayed me. Think, Lily!
"I'm fine! Just... just slipped. The pot was too heavy." The lie felt pathetic even as I said it.
Isabella appeared beside Ethan, fake concern dripping from her voice. "Ethan, maybe she shouldn't be doing dangerous things like cooking."
"I'm fine," I repeated, kneeling to clean up the mess with shaking hands.
But Ethan's eyes stayed locked on my face. Shit. He'd seen too much.
Near midnight, my phone buzzed. Sarah's name lit up the screen.
"I can't stop thinking about what I saw today," she said without preamble. "Ethan needs to know."
"Absolutely not." I gripped the phone tighter. "You promised."
"I didn't promise to watch you die while he tortures you!" Her voice cracked. "This is medical negligence, Lily. I could lose my license for not reporting this."
Through my door, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Ethan's voice, muffled but angry: "Who the hell is calling this late?"
"I have to go," I whispered.
"Lily, wait—"
I hung up just as my door burst open.
"Who was that?" Ethan stood in my doorway, his hair disheveled, eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Wrong number."
His gaze dropped to my phone, still glowing with Sarah's contact info. "Dr. Williams called you at midnight?"
Fuck.
"She was just checking on me after her visit."
"Right." His voice dripped sarcasm. "Because that's normal medical practice."
He stepped closer, and I instinctively backed against my desk.
"What aren't you telling me, Lily?"
The question hung between us like a loaded gun. I could see him putting pieces together—my trembling hands, the dropped pot, Sarah's sudden concern.
"Nothing. I'm just tired."
"Bullshit." His eyes never left mine. "Something's wrong with you. Something more than just being tired."
Before I could answer, he turned and walked out, leaving me with the terrifying certainty that my time was running out faster than I'd thought.
I flipped open to a new page nd picked up my pen.
[To my dearest Ethan, if you're reading this...]
The words poured out until my hand cramped and the sun rose. Three years of silence, finally broken on paper.