CHAPTER 2

Elena's POV

I felt the ugly feeling of dread settle deep in my stomach as I arrived at the hospital. All evening, I had convinced myself that tonight would be different. Tonight was supposed to be the night. The turning point. The night Damien finally looked at me and saw me. The night I would tell him about our baby. The night everything would change.

Instead, I found myself rushing to the hospital because of her. Georgina. The woman I barely knew but had somehow turned my life upside down from the moment she arrived in Boston.

The woman who constantly occupied Damien's thoughts, Damien's time, Damien's attention. His affection. Something I had spent five years begging for without ever truly receiving.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my handbag as I walked down the hallway. The sterile smell of disinfectant stung my nose, my chest feeling tight and heavy.

Then I saw him. Damien was pacing back and forth outside one of the private rooms. His usually perfect appearance looked disheveled. His jaw was tense and his hands kept running through his hair. Worry covered every inch of his face.

For a moment, my heart did something stupid. For one brief, pathetic second, I thought maybe he was worried about me. Then his eyes found mine and relief flashed across his face.

Instantly, I knew it was not because he had seen his wife, it was because help had arrived.

"Elena." He strode toward me immediately. "I need you to donate your blood now."

Before I could even process his words, his hand wrapped around my wrist and he started pulling me toward the room.

"What?" I stumbled after him. "Damien, wait—"

I was completely confused. Donate blood? What was he talking about?

"Georgina is very sick right now, and she needs a blood transfusion. You have an O positive blood type. We have been waiting for you."

His words came fast, urgent and impatient. As though I should already understand everything. As though I should have expected this. But nothing he said made sense.

I stopped walking and Damien immediately turned around. The irritation on his face hit me like a slap.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped impatiently. "Georgina needs the blood immediately."

My heart squeezed painfully because slowly, everything began falling into place. Not only had Georgina taken every ounce of attention Damien had to offer. Now I was expected to give her my blood too.

And Damien wasn't asking, he was demanding it. Like it was my obligation, like I didn't have a choice, like my body belonged to everyone except me.

I swallowed hard as my hand instinctively drifted to my stomach, the tiny life growing inside me.

Only a few hours ago, I had sat in a doctor's office hearing words that had changed my entire life.

'Your pregnancy is in its very early stage, meaning it is delicate. So you need more rest, avoid stress and take good care of yourself.'

The memory made my chest tighten. I looked at Damien. The man I had been so excited to tell. The man who didn't even know he was going to be a father. The man who wasn't looking at me now. He was only looking at a solution to a problem. Nothing more.

"Damien," I said softly. My voice sounded small as I tried to make him understand. "I don't think I can donate."

His brows furrowed.

I rushed to explain. "I'm not feeling too good, and the doctor said—"

He turned fully toward me. The expression on his face hardening instantly. It was cold as ice. "What do you mean?" The disbelief in his voice stunned me. "Did you not hear me say she's very sick?"

I flinched at the sharpness of his voice.

"That's my cousin, Elena." His eyes narrowed. "Why are you so heartless?"

Heartless.

The word hit my chest hard and my heart dropped to my stomach.

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. Did he just call me heartless? After everything? After five years of loving him, supporting him, waiting for him? Choosing him over myself every single day?

My throat tightened painfully and I glanced around me.

No. This wasn't the right place nor the right time. I couldn't tell him here. Not while standing in the middle of a hospital hallway. Not while he looked at me like I was some selfish bitch. Not while all his concern belonged to another woman.

"Damien, please." My voice shook. "I actually have a reason for this and I've been wanting to tell you—"

"A reason?" He cut me off immediately. Disgust and disbelief filling his voice. "What reason could be more important than Georgina's life?"

Every word he said landed like a punch to my gut.

"Huh?" He continued, his eyes flashing with anger and irritation. "What, is it money you need?"

I froze.

"How much would it cost for you to have some conscience?"

The hallway spun around me and for a second, I almost couldn't breathe.

Money? Was that really what he thought of me? That after five years together, after being his wife, after sacrificing everything for him...He thought I was trying to negotiate a price?

Tears instantly filled my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to stop them, trying not to break down in front of him.

But the damage was already done. Because he hadn't asked why. He hadn't cared. Not once. All he cared about was Georgina.

Georgina.

Georgina.

Always Georgina.

His cousin. The woman who somehow mattered more than his own wife.

"Damien, it's not about the money." My voice broke as I whispered helplessly. "It's not—"

But he wasn't listening. I could see it in his eyes, with the way he was glaring coldly at me, I could see the judgement, the disappointment, the disgust. It was obvious he was not interested in hearing me out. He had already decided I was a selfish woman who didn't care about his cousin.

Another tear escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away before he could see. Then I looked down at my stomach, at my baby, our baby. A painful ache spread through my chest.

I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to tell him so bad, that he was going to be a father.  I wanted him to smile at me, to hold me, to choose us. Just once.

But standing there, looking at the coldness in his eyes, I realized something. This wasn't about me. It never was, never would be. Not when it came to Georgina.

I swallowed hard and nodded, resigning to my fate. "I'll do it. I'll donate my blood to Georgina."

Because despite everything, Georgina was Damien's cousin, and one day, she would be my child's aunt. And no matter how much Damien hurt me, I couldn't let someone suffer.

And even though my heart ached that my husband was so blinded by his need to save Georgina, to actually see me and our baby, I would still donate.

Without another word, I followed the nurse to another room to donate my blood. As the nurse prepared the equipment, I stared at the wall and thought about my baby.

'Please be okay. Please.'

When the needle slid into my arm, I barely felt it because I was already numb. I sat there silently while my blood slowly filled the collection bag. Watching another piece of myself being given away.

Another sacrifice to a man who never gave anything back.

By the time everything was finished, I was drained and exhausted, physically and emotionally. I stood and slowly made my way toward Georgina's private room. My legs felt like jelly as I dragged them lazily and my head felt light.

The door to Georgina's room came into view and then I heard it.

I frowned, slowing my pace.

Soft giggles were coming from her room.

Was someone visiting her?

Then I heard a familiar voice. I recognized that voice anytime, anywhere, even in my sleep. But I had never heard that voice speak so gentle and affectionately. I reached the doorway and I looked inside.

Georgina sat on the hospital bed, with a huge smile on her face, and wrapped tightly around a man. Her arms were around his neck and his arms were around her waist. The intimacy of their position made something twist painfully inside my chest.

My breath caught in my lungs.

The man slowly pulled away from the embrace, then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, softly and tenderly.

My entire body froze and the room spun around me when the man finally turned and I confirmed exactly who it was.

Damien. My husband.