Chapter 4

There were nights when Cayleigh forgot she no longer had legs.

Not because the pain stopped—phantom pain never truly did—but because in the quiet spaces of her room, when her body had grown too tired to fight and the world outside finally stopped whispering, her mind wandered back to how things used to be.

Dancing barefoot on the marble floor of her family’s villa.

Running through hotel halls as a child, her laughter echoing like bells.

Rising to her toes to kiss Knile in his office, hidden behind the stained glass panel he kept for privacy.

And then—she would wake. Stiff. Heavy. Trapped in a body that no longer felt like hers.

But worse than that was the feeling she could no longer name. That gnawing ache that had nothing to do with her legs, and everything to do with a man who didn’t belong to her world, and yet somehow had taken root in it like an uninvited vine.

Aki.

He had been different from the beginning.

She expected resistance, maybe even bitterness. She expected him to cower or fight—to be proud, arrogant, or spineless.

But he had been quiet. Steady. Gentle.

She hated him for that.

Hated how he didn’t try to redeem himself, didn’t speak grand words or beg for forgiveness. He simply was—present, every day. Enduring her silences. Absorbing her anger. Carrying her like she wasn’t a burden.

At first, she refused to look at him.

But then came the moments in between—the moments when her eyes betrayed her.

Like when he brushed her hair behind her ear after a long bath, and she didn’t pull away.

Or when he lifted her into the garden swing and made her laugh—genuinely laugh—for the first time in weeks.

Or when he held her hand during her nightmares and didn’t let go.

And the worst part?

She didn’t want him to.

Knile had stopped visiting in the mornings. His excuses always came from Sabrina, his assistant, crisp and professional:

“Sir Forteros is tied up with a board meeting.”

“There’s an urgent call with New York.”

“He’s sending flowers later today.”

Cayleigh didn’t blame him.

He was the man she was supposed to marry. The man who saw her in Vera Wang gowns, not hospital robes. A man raised in sharp lines and flawless image. What future did she offer now? A wheelchair? A legacy of whispers and pity?

Still… she missed him.

She missed the warmth of his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through crowded rooms. Missed the rare softness in his eyes when no one else was watching. Missed the feeling of belonging to someone who had the whole world in his hands and still chose her.

But lately, Knile looked at her like she was a vase that had shattered—and all he could see were the pieces he couldn’t glue back together.

Aki, on the other hand, never looked away from the cracks.

That afternoon, she sat on the veranda with a blanket over her lap and a book she wasn’t reading. The breeze teased the pages, but her eyes weren’t on the print. They were on the figure in the garden, bent over a rose bush, sleeves rolled up, sunlight catching in his tousled hair.

Aki.

He had been more distant lately. Still present, still attentive, but... quieter. There were things he wasn’t saying. Things she felt but didn’t dare name.

And it frightened her—how much she wanted to name them.

You’re still engaged, her mind scolded. You’re just grateful. He’s your punishment, not your salvation.

But her heart whispered something else.

Something far more dangerous.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Knile arrived later that day.

Not announced. Not scheduled.

He walked in like he owned the air around him, dressed in charcoal gray and wrapped in silence.

She looked up from the book and smiled, weakly. “You’re early.”

“I canceled the Shanghai call,” he replied, sitting in the armchair across from her. “I needed to see you.”

Her heart ached. She should’ve been happy. Should’ve reached for his hand. But there was a weight between them now, thick and suffocating.

Knile’s eyes drifted to the blanket on her lap. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” she lied.

He nodded once, then looked past her—toward the garden.

Aki had just entered the hallway from outside, wiping his hands on a towel. When he saw Knile, he paused. Bowed. Said nothing.

Knile’s jaw tensed. “Still here.”

Cayleigh’s spine stiffened. “He’s helping me.”

Knile didn’t speak immediately. But his eyes sharpened, and when they finally met hers, they weren’t cold—they were wounded.

“I know,” he said. “I just wonder when that help became something else.”

The accusation hit like a slap.

“Aki isn’t—” she began, but the lie burned her throat. She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t deny what had slowly unraveled between them, even if it had never crossed a line.

Not yet.

Knile stood.

“So it is something else.”

“Knile—”

“I gave him to you,” he said, voice low. Controlled. Dangerous. “As a punishment. Not as a replacement.”

Aki stepped forward now, tension in his frame. “I never—”

“Shut up,” Knile snapped, without even looking at him.

Silence.

Cayleigh’s hands gripped the arms of her wheelchair. “This isn’t fair.”

Knile turned to her, and for a moment, the cold, sharp CEO melted away. What was left behind was a man. Tired. Frustrated. Hurt.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for him,” he said quietly. “Tell me, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

She opened her mouth.

But the words didn’t come.

Not because she didn’t want to say them.

But because they weren’t true.

Knile saw it.

He stepped back like she had struck him.

For a moment, he looked like a stranger in his own skin.

Then, calmly, he turned to Aki.

“Enjoy your victory,” he said. “You may have stolen her legs, Salamanca… but I’ll be damned if I let you steal her heart too.”

And with that, he left.

Cayleigh sat frozen in place, the echo of Knile’s footsteps still pounding in her ears.

Aki didn’t move.

Neither of them did.

The air around them felt scorched.

And for the first time since the accident, Cayleigh realized something brutal:

Her pain had changed them all.

Not just her body.

But the very love that once defined her life.

And now, she stood—figuratively—between two men:

One who had lost her without ever truly letting her go.

And one who had never meant to find her… but now couldn’t bear to walk away.