Left to Die

"Vanessa, if you're so worried about Miles, why did you even marry me?" I was nearly screaming. "Every single time, you drop everything and run to him. Have you ever once thought about how that makes me feel? I'm your husband!"

The outburst set my heart pounding painfully, tight and constricted, until I could barely breathe. I knew what that meant—my heart condition was flaring up again. The pain hit so hard that all the color drained from my face, and I sank helplessly to the floor, one hand pressed to my chest.

Vanessa Allen and I had been together for seven years. She should have recognized the signs immediately—she was a well-regarded cardiologist, after all, someone with real expertise in heart conditions.

But her mind was entirely consumed by her brother, and she mistook my collapse for some petty jealous act. She only gave my shoulder a careless pat, her voice edged with impatience.

"Honey, please don't fake a heart attack just to scare me. Miles isn't feeling well. I can't just ignore that."

I grabbed at her with trembling hands and begged her to help me. She just frowned, irritated, and pulled her hand free. "Stop it, honey. I'll come back and sit with you in a bit."

She must have noticed how awful I looked, because her tone softened slightly. "You're the one I care about most, honey. But I'm a doctor, and Miles isn't well—I can't just look the other way. Besides, he's your brother. Don't overthink this. We've got a long, long life ahead of us to be together. There's no need to be jealous."

Once she'd finished feeding me that syrupy reassurance, she turned and walked out without a second thought, leaving me gasping on the floor, my face bled of all color.

What a joke this marriage was. She called me "honey" like she meant it, swore up and down that she cared. But every single time it came down to a choice between me and Miles Carell, I was the one she left behind.

Even today, with my heart failing, she hadn't so much as noticed—too busy playing doctor for Miles's minor cold.

'Vanessa, we're finished. There's no "after" for us anymore.'

The doorbell rang, sharp and urgent, and something in me lit up with a small, foolish hope. Maybe this time, she'd chosen me.

I forced myself upright and opened the door, but it wasn't who I'd hoped for.

Mom stood on the other side, frowning, already lecturing me before I could get a word in. "Tim, how can you be so selfish? I already told you, Miles isn't feeling well. What's the harm in letting Vanessa look after him for a while? Can't you be the bigger person for once?

"I know Vanessa is your wife, not his. You two have your whole lives together—all I'm asking is a few hours. Is that really so much to ask?"

She knew perfectly well that Vanessa was my wife, not Miles's. So why did she act like it was so obvious I should hand her over?

I pressed a hand to my aching chest, my mouth curling into a bitter twist. "Mom, my heart's acting up right now. Even so, you still think Vanessa should be with Miles instead of me?"

Something flickered behind her eyes—guilt, gone almost as fast as it appeared—before she forced her voice steady again. "Tim, stop pretending. You've been lying for attention since you were a kid, and you still haven't grown out of it. There's no way this is just a coincidence. You just don't want Vanessa spending time with Miles, so you're pulling this stunt."

Every word cut into me like a blade, one slice after another. I'd always known she favored Miles, but I never imagined this was how little she actually thought of me. For a few seconds, crushed under the weight of it, I couldn't say anything at all.

My elder brother, Robin Carell, arrived right behind her and mistook my silence for guilt—proof, in his mind, that he'd caught me in the act. He gave a cold laugh. "Mom, Vanessa's already with Miles. No point wasting time here. Tim is always like this, always trying to compete with Miles over everything.

"Tim, I'm warning you. Miles's kind, he doesn't want to make a thing of this—but if I ever catch you bullying him again, we won't go easy on you."

Bullying him. What a joke.

I laughed until tears came to my eyes. "So what, refusing to hand my own wife over to Miles counts as bullying him now?"

As for "kind" and "gentle"—I thought of the arrogant, taunting texts and photos he'd sent me, and wondered how those words could possibly apply to Miles.

It wasn't as if I hadn't shown them the evidence. But when favoritism runs deep enough, there's no reasoning with it, no matter how much proof you put in front of someone. They'd look at Miles's tearful, wounded face and decide I must have faked the evidence myself, just to steal attention away from him.

Just like now. Robin shot me a cold glance and spoke like he was delivering some kind of verdict.

"Vanessa liked Miles first, you know. If Miles hadn't stepped aside, you never would have had a shot at marrying her. And now all we're asking is that she looks after him for a bit, and you're throwing a fit like this. Faking a heart attack on top of it? We're not buying it."

Dad nodded along, looking at me like I disgusted him. "Tim, stop the act. If you really want to die that badly, go ahead and get it over with."

After that little round of humiliation, the three of them rushed off to the hospital to see Miles. None of them spared me a second thought. None of them believed my heart condition was real.

I laughed, bitter and hollow, and dialed 911 with shaking fingers.

I had a family by blood, and a wife who supposedly loved me. But none of it made a difference—I was as alone as if I had no one at all. Every one of them belonged to Miles.