Chapter one ( Nadine’s point of view)

“Everything is going to be fine,” I mumbled. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

I sat at the edge of the exam table draped with paper, the crinkle beneath me echoing in the quiet room. My feet dangled like a child's. My arms rested flat on the table for balance, but in part because I was trying to get my center. Something about being in medical offices always made me expect the worst, even when everything would be okay.

But today, all wasn't going to be okay.

The fluorescent lights whirred softly overhead. The air was too clean, too sterile, the kind that washed emotion out of your body. I watched the sink in the corner, how light dropped across the chrome faucet. Anything to not look at Dr. Ramos's face.

She stood beside the monitor, thumbing through my chart. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and she narrowed her eyes slightly. She was reading, but she wasn't simply reading. She was balancing something. How much to tell me, how much to break it to me gently. That pause between doctors reading and doctors talking always made me nervous.

"You've been holding up all right," she said finally, looking at me. "But Nadine , listen to me. I want to be clear. You have to be careful now. More than ever."

I nodded slowly. "Because of the kidney."

She looked at me, her tone shifting. "You've only got one. It's doing the work of two, and it's going to keep on doing it, until it can't".

I gulped hard. My mouth was dry, as if I had been chewing cotton. "So what do I do?"

"First, don't skip meals. Don't push yourself past empty. Sleep enough. Eat better. Drink more water. Less stress. All of that. But above all."

She hesitated. That kind of hesitation meant something bigger was in the works.

".You have to start looking for a donor."

I blinked. "A donor?"

She nodded. "You're young, and your other kidney is healthy, so far. But transplant schedules are unpredictable. The earlier you start the process, the better. Taking too long will put you in a very bad place."

I edged back slightly, letting the words sink in. I knew this could come one day, but hearing it today was like having someone punch a rock into my chest. Cold and weighty.

A donor. Me. The one who donated, and now needs someone to receive it. I wasn't ready for that.

Dr. Ramos gazed at me as if she could see the thoughts going through my mind.

"Why donate a kidney?" she asked gently. I know it's not my business, but. I just wanted to know if you'd consider giving."

I shrugged, barely raising my shoulders. "I… I left it to my husband. Christain ."

"Wow," she stated, her tone tilting up with shock. "The same man who came to see you in the hospital with you two days ago?"

I paused. "Yeah, do you know him?"

Dr. Ramos's head jerked up, nearly too fast. "Yes, I do. We met three years ago."

I nodded slowly. "Three years ago?"

Her gaze rested on me a fraction of a second longer than I'd expected. "Is Sofia somebody you knew?"

I nodded again, this time a shade more subdued. "Yeah. My husband's best friend."

That halted her. Tension between us mounted. Something shifted in her face, something held her back. Almost as if concerned, or doubt, or maybe just apprehension.

Then her expression softened. She did this weird thing to me. Not judgment. Not sympathy either. Something in between. Pity, perhaps?

That glance gave me the chills and made me think of what she must have known.

She parted her lips as if to speak again. Ask another question. But then she cut herself off. Close the chart with a clinical click.

"Okay," she said, flipping back into doctor mode. "Let's get to work on keeping you healthy." I want you to have labs today-kidney function, iron, the works. And I want to see you in six weeks."

She handed me a stack of paper. A lab slip, a printed page that said on it a cartoon kidney across the top in fancy letters, and a booklet named Living with One Kidney. It had a cartoon. A smiling kidney with sunglasses on it. I could not figure out if it was sad or dumb.

I said nothing. I just took them.

Dr. Ramos forced a smile to make the mood brighten up. "Drink water. And rest. Got it?"

I nodded, although I felt like a balloon that someone had just deflated. Wrinkled. Useless.

She escorted me to the door. The hallway beyond was too bright.

"Be nice to that kidney," she said. "It's working hard for you."

The ride home was silent. I didn't even turn on the radio. I just kept my eyes on the road, trying not to let my mind spin. One kidney. One reminder that I wasn't as tough as I once was. That I have boundaries now. That I needed assistance eventually, if not immediately.

That realization made my throat constrict.

I'd been given the kidney a few months earlier. To Christian. My husband. He'd needed it, and I'd not asked questions. That's what love is, isn't it? Sacrificing pieces of you so the one you love can live on.

I wasn't allowed to be present in the hospital for the procedure itself. Hospital rules or something, but I visited him afterward. Pale but alive. Breathing. Smiling. And that was enough.

As long as he's fine, I don't care about anything else.

That's what I kept repeating to myself. Still did.

The house was warm when I came in. The scent of lemon cleaner lingered delicately in the air, along with the smell of fabric softener from the laundry I'd done that morning. I kicked my shoes off, left my bag on the floor by the door, and went straight to the bedroom. I didn't even take off my jacket. I just sat on the bed and stared at the floor, my hands still clenched in a tight grip around the papers. Ramos had left me.

The room was quiet. That soft, heavy quiet that only comes in the middle of the day when the world’s still moving, but you’ve stepped out of it. The kind that wraps around you, muffling everything except your own thoughts.

I started crying a little bit. Not melodramatic ones. Just tender tears that dropped down without anyone's permission. I didn't wipe them off. Letting them fall appeared to be the only honest thing I could do.

Then the door opened.

"Nadine !" Christain boomed as though he'd just come back from winning the lottery.

I sprang. "Christain , what? You'll kill me with that level of shock!"

You'll have to come with me. Now. I have something for you."

"I just got here. I have to sit down."

"Nope," he'd said, already moving across the room with that crazed urgency he got when he thought he'd done something great. "Close your eyes."

"Christain ."

"Come on. Trust me."

"I don't want to be surprised right now."

"You'll want to see this one, I swear".

Before I could object, he was putting his hands over my eyes, as he always did when he was secretly doing something ridiculous. Like he was attempting to reawaken some forgotten, silly phase of ourselves that I wasn't sure still existed.

He laughed. "No peeking."

"Seriously, if this is another stupid TikTok gift box…"

"It's not."

"Or a dog."

"No dogs. Just trust me."

He led me out of the bedroom, one hand on my arm, the other still covering my eyes. I could tell we were heading to the sitting room by the difference in light and the subtle scent of the lavender candle I always left on the coffee table. My feet dragged against the hardwood, every step making my heart beat a little bit harder for reasons that I didn't understand yet.

"Okay," he said, pausing. "Ready?"

"No."

He chuckled again. "Too bad. One… two…"

His hands fell away from my eyes.

And there she was.

Sitting right there on my couch like she owned the place.

Sofia .

Her legs were crossed neatly. Her phone hung from one hand. That smug smile, the one I hadn't seen in more than a year, was back on her face like she'd never left.

"Surprise," she said, almost singing it.

I stood there, frozen. My throat closed. My arms hung limply at my sides.

"Sofia ?"

She leaned back on the couch cushion, the same relaxed refinement that I had once admired and now wished to shed from her like a mask. "Hey, Krys."

And at that moment, I knew something was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.