Chapter 3

The hospital hallways smelled of sterile salt and panic. Noah paced the floor outside the emergency wing, his expensive suit stained with Rach’s blood and the grime of the road. His hands trembled—not from the cold, but from the terror of losing the only woman he had ever truly wanted.

Behind the double doors, doctors worked frantically on Rach. Noah stood like a sentinel, deaf to the world around him, until the heavy sound of an ambulance siren wailed outside, followed by the frantic shouting of paramedics.

"Female, mid-twenties, blunt force trauma, massive blood loss! She’s fading fast!"

Noah didn't even turn his head as a gurney rushed past him. He didn't notice the pale, bloodied hand hanging limply off the side of the bed.

He didn't see the tattered remains of the dress he had seen just hours ago in his office.

It was only when his driver, who had followed the ambulance, stumbled into the hallway that the silence broke.

"Sir..." the driver gasped, his face ashen.

"They... they just brought in your wife. She was in the flipped car. The one you—"

"I told you, I’m busy with Rach!" Noah snapped, his voice a jagged edge of irritation.

"Selin is fine. She probably just had a fender bender to get my attention."

"Sir, she isn't breathing," the driver whispered, his voice trembling.

Noah froze.

For the first time, a flicker of doubt pierced through his anger. He turned slowly toward the trauma bay where the paramedics had disappeared.

Just then, a senior surgeon stepped out, pulling off his bloody gloves. His face was grim.

"Are you the husband of the woman from the overturned vehicle?" the doctor asked.

Noah took a hesitant step forward. "I... yes. Is she awake?"

The doctor looked at him with a mixture of pity and professional distance.

"She’s in critical condition. We’re taking her into emergency surgery now. But there’s something you need to know."

Noah’s heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"We found a sonogram in her pocket. She’s three weeks pregnant, Mr. Miller. The impact caused severe internal hemorrhaging. We are going to try to save her, but the chances for the baby..." The doctor shook his head.

"The baby is likely already gone."

The world tilted on its axis. The words three weeks pregnant echoed in Noah’s mind, colliding with his own cruel words from earlier I’d force her to abort it.

Suddenly, the image of Selin standing in his office, begging to be let into his heart, flashed before his eyes.

He had pushed her out into the rain. He had ignored her wreckage. He had chosen Rach while his own child was dying in the dark.

A nurse rushed out of the trauma room, her voice urgent.

"Doctor, she’s flatlining! We’re losing her!"

Noah watched, paralyzed, as the team dove back into the room. For five years, he had treated Selin like a shadow. Now, as the shadow began to vanish forever, the weight of his silence became a crushing, unbearable roar.

Noah rushed back to Rach’s room, his anger boiling over.

He grabbed her arms, his grip tightening as he demanded answers.

“What happened, Rach? Why did Selin end up like that?” His voice dropped to a dangerous octave.

Though Noah had never shown Selin much affection, the sight of the accident had triggered a flicker of pity—and a heavy weight of guilt—in his conscience.

“It was her fault,” Rach lied, twisting the story to her advantage.

“She was hysterical. She tried to ram my car with hers. I tried to swerve, but the impact was too strong.” She looked at him innocently.

“You can check the CCTV in that area to see for yourself.”

Before he could respond, she quickly added,

“Actually, I think that area doesn’t have any cameras.”

“No need,” Noah replied coldly.

“How is she?” Rach asked, feigning concern.

“She deserved it,” Noah snapped, his voice darkening with rage.

“She staged the whole thing just to make me feel sorry for her. What a vicious woman.” He softened his gaze as he looked at Rach.

“Thank God your injuries were minor. We can get you discharged soon.”

A few days later, Selin finally drifted back to consciousness. She woke to an empty, silent room.

Starving after days of forced sleep, she reached trembling fingers toward a bowl of fruit on the cabinet.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Noah was there.

“Noah…” she whispered, a spark of hope in her eyes.

But Noah didn't offer comfort. He lunged forward, gripping her arms with bruising force.

“Noah… it hurts,” she pleaded, tears welling up.

“It hurts?” he hissed.

“Not as much as what you tried to do to Rach.”

“Look at me, Noah! Look at the state I'm in!” she cried out.

“Why are you so heartless? Why is it always her?”

“Because,” he said, his face a mask of contempt,

“she is a thousand times the woman you will ever be.”

“Then leave me alone,” she sobbed, her eyes fluttering shut as the weight of her unrequited love crushed her.

“I’m tired, Noah. I’m just so tired.”

Noah didn't spare her another glance. He walked out and went straight to Rach’s room. Using the last of her strength, Selin dragged herself out of bed, leaning heavily on her IV pole. She watched through the cracked door as Noah tenderly fed Rach, wiping her face with a gentleness he had never shown his wife.

A nurse passing by glanced at Selin’s pale, trembling figure and whispered to a colleague, “She’s so pitiful.”

"That woman in there... she’s so lucky," one nurse whispered, her voice drifting through the cracked door like a poison.

"He hasn't left her side all day, and his injuries are barely a scratch."

"That’s Mr. Miller," the other replied in a hushed, awestruck tone.

"I heard he bought this entire hospital just to rename it after her. A gift for his wife’s recovery."

"Must be nice to be loved like that," the first nurse sighed. "At least our jobs are safe now."

Outside the door, Selin leaned against the cold, sterile wall, her breath hitching in her throat. St. Raphael Hospital. He had bought it for Rach.

He had claimed Rach as his wife to the world, while Selin the woman who actually carried his name and his child stood in the shadows, a ghost in her own life.

Who was she to him? A mistake? A footnote?

With the help of a nurse, Selin retreated to her room, every step feeling like she was walking on broken glass. As she was tucked into the stiff, bleached sheets, her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach. It felt terrifyingly hollow.

"Nurse," Selin rasped, her voice trembling.

"My baby... how is my baby?"

The nurse’s expression shifted, a heavy, suffocating pity clouding her eyes.

"Ms. Selin... I am so sorry. The baby is gone."

The world tilted.

"How?" Selin sobbed, the first tear carving a hot path through the cold sweat on her face.

"You were in critical condition," the nurse explained softly, reaching out to touch Selin’s hand.

"Massive blood loss, internal hemorrhaging... you were slipping away. Your husband signed the waiver. He chose you. He told us to save your life over the child's."

Selin’s fingers curled into the hospital duvet, her knuckles turning white. The nurse saw it as a husband’s sacrifice Selin saw it as a final execution.

Noah hadn't saved her out of love.

He had cleared the way for Rach. To him, the baby wasn't a life—it was an inconvenience to his new future.

With trembling hands, she reached for her phone. This was it—the edge of the cliff.

"Noah," she whispered to the empty room as the dial tone rang.

"This is your last chance. Just one sign of mercy, and I’ll bury the pain. I’ll let it all slide. Just come to me."

He picked up on the third ring. "What do you want?" His voice was a sheet of ice, sharp enough to draw blood.

"Can we talk?" Selin asked, her voice eerily calm, the kind of calm that comes just before a storm.

"I am giving you one last chance, Noah. Please. Don't let it slip away. There won't be a next time."

"I'll be there," he snapped, and the line went dead.

Selin waited.

She watched the shadows of the hallway shift, counting the seconds by the thumping of her own breaking heart. Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. Every time a shadow crossed the frosted glass of her door, her breath caught.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Noah: I can’t come. Rach’s fever spiked. She needs me.

The phone slipped from her hand, clattering onto the linoleum floor.

"She’s sick," Selin whispered to the silent walls.

"She has a fever, and he stays. I lost our child, and I am invisible."

The realization hit her with more force than the accident ever could. It wasn't just about Rach. It was the fundamental truth she had tried to outrun

He was the sun, born into gold and light, and she was the dirt beneath his feet. He hadn't chosen her life over the baby's out of love he had simply chosen the path that required the least amount of effort.

In that sterile room, smelling of bleach and death, Selin finally let go. Not because she didn't love him, but because there was nothing left of her for him to break.