Chapter 4

"This is a hospital. The blood bank's fully stocked. No one needs mine," Meredith said, calm as ever.

Sharon looked torn. "But—"

Meredith didn't even glance her way. She faced Alden. "I've left my resignation on your desk. Everything's packed. Just swing by and sign it when you get a sec."

"Resignation?" Alden's brow creased.

"What's with this attitude?" Sharon snapped. "Why are you throwing a fit? That's not what I meant."

Meredith gave her a small smile. "Take care, Sharon. Get some rest. I've still got to finish packing, so I'm heading out."

She didn't wait for a response—just turned and walked.

Right as the elevator doors started to close, a hand shot in.

The doors slid open. Meredith looked up—his eyes met hers.

Alden.

Emotion in his stare? Rare. The only time she'd really seen it was when the townsfolk had him pinned. That look? Burned into her memory.

"Why are you quitting?" he asked, stepping in, locking eyes with her. "Is it because of the wedding? Or the blood transfusion?" He reached for her hand. "I already said sorry about the wedding.

"And the blood—I'll find someone else. I'm not forcing you. Just... don't do this, okay?"

Meredith nearly laughed.

'Do this?'

Right.

She'd never once thrown a scene with him.

No matter how hurt she was, she always sucked it up.

Back when the firm was just starting, Alden's stiff attitude scared off client after client. Meredith cleaned up every mess. Drank herself sick doing it. Wrecked her stomach.

Years later, the pain still flared up.

"Alden, I'm tired."

Five years. She'd taken ninety-nine steps toward him.

If he'd just taken one—they might've had a shot.

But it was always her. Always one-sided. She tricked herself into thinking she mattered.

So dumb.

Dumb enough to believe giving him everything would make him love her back.

Now? She was bleeding—inside and out. Exhausted.

She was done chasing him.

"If you're tired, I can give you some paid time off," Alden said, frowning.

Meredith felt the exhaustion hit hard.

"Alden, we—"

She didn't even get to say 'break up' before his phone buzzed.

He picked up. Sharon's shaky voice came through, almost in tears. "Alden, something's wrong. Vicky just passed out. Come quick!"

His face changed. "I'm on my way."

He hung up and looked at her. "Head back to my place. Wait for me. I've got something to say. I'll come find you after."

And just like that, he was gone.

Typical. The second Vicky had a crisis, he dropped everything—again.

Meredith exhaled slowly.

The elevator doors shut, sealing her in alone. Her pale face, icy eyes stared back from the mirrored walls.

She was heading to Alden's place anyway—to pack.

Fine. They'd talk. End it. For good.

***

Alden's place sat near the firm—a sleek penthouse in a high-end building.

After they went official, Meredith had badgered him for a key. Whenever she had time, she'd swing by to cook, clean, make it feel like home.

But calling it his place?

Not really.

It was hers.

Alden didn't care about any of it. The curtains, the couch, the dishes, the plants on the balcony—every corner had her touch.

She pulled out the boxes she'd stashed and started packing.

It was harder than she'd expected.

Every item held a memory. Every choice felt like ripping out a piece of herself.

She pulled a photo album from the nightstand, brows knitting tight.

Sinking to the floor, she flipped through it slowly.

She looked so damn happy in those pictures—eyes full of love.

Her face stayed blank as she snapped it shut and tossed it aside.

By the time she was done packing, the sun had dipped low. Orange light spilled through the windows, wrapping the room in a soft, unreal glow.

The boxes sat by the door.

Five years of love, boxed up and ready to go.

She called a moving service to haul everything to her place. Still no sign of Alden.

Maybe it was the long day catching up to her, but a sharp pain flared in her stomach.

She hadn't eaten since noon.

She rushed to the kitchen and threw together some pasta.

But after eating, the pain got worse.

Way worse.

Not the usual dull throb—this was sharp, stabbing, shooting down to her lower right side.

She went digging for the med box.

Alden didn't know about her stomach issues—she'd kept it quiet so he wouldn't feel guilty, which meant there wasn't much here.

Kneeling on the living room floor, she tore through the box. No sign of the usual bottle.

The pain spiked. Nausea rolled in. Her vision blurred.

She staggered up, aiming for the kitchen, but almost hit the floor.

Gripping the wall, she shuffled over, managed a cup of warm water. Nothing changed.

Cold sweat soaked her back. She curled up tighter, mind spinning.

She hit the emergency call button. "Hello, this is—"

Wrong number.

Vicky's voice cut in, sharp and snide. "Meredith? Why you call? Thought you said you quit. Knew you were faking something."

Only then did Meredith realize—Alden was still listed as her emergency contact.

She didn't have the energy to fight. Her stomach felt like it was on fire. "Where's Alden?"

Vicky perked up, all smug. "I got my period and my stomach hurts. He went to get me hot chocolate—"

Meredith ended the call.

It was the hottest month of the year.

The AC was blasting, and the icy air filled her lungs, twisting her stomach like a storm.

She clutched her chest, unsure what hurt more—her heart or her gut.

Cold sweat kept pouring down her back.

She blinked hard, trying to steady her vision, and managed to tap the emergency hotline. "Hello... Maplecrest Residences, Block 3, Unit 1201... severe abdominal pain..."

The second she hung up, the pain slammed into her so hard she could barely breathe.

Right before everything went dark, she caught the sound of footsteps bursting in and frantic voices crowding around her.

***

When Meredith opened her eyes, a doctor in a white coat moved into view.

"Rebound pain, lower right side—appendicitis. We've gotta operate now."

So yeah, not her stomach. Her appendix.

"She needs emergency surgery. Get a family member to sign, ASAP!"

The pain stole her voice. When the nurse asked for a contact, Meredith just whispered, "Can I sign it myself?"

"No family?" The nurse blinked.

"None."

She'd followed Alden to Borevia and cut ties with everyone for him.

Now? Besides Alden, she had nobody.

The nurse gave her a soft, pitying look and handed over the form. "Then sign here."

Meredith gritted through the pain and grabbed the pen.

Out of nowhere, she remembered—five years ago, Alden's appendix had flared up. She was the one who signed for him.

Same form.

Back then, she'd freaked, rereading every line like her life depended on it.

She didn't sleep for three days, camped out by his hospital bed.

Now?

She had no one.