Chapter 4

That evening, I was only one day away from death.

I had gone out for dinner—a farewell meal.

The riverside restaurant shimmered with city lights, crystal glasses chiming like fragile hearts.

By the window, Henry sat across from Susan, cutting her steak with careful precision—the kind of tenderness that once belonged only to me.

A bitter laugh rose in my throat. So this was the man who had just sworn eternity at my bedside.

“Olivia?”

Susan spotted me, her eyes lighting up with mock surprise. She waved as if greeting an old friend. “What a coincidence! Come sit with us.”

“No need.” My smile was polite, my voice steady. “Enjoy your date.”

Henry pushed back his chair instantly, striding toward me. “Don’t misunderstand. This is just part of the agreement. Once we’re done, I’ll take you home.”

“Go back,” I replied evenly. “Don’t worry about me.”

My meal arrived, untouched. Against my will, my eyes drifted back to them.

He slid a velvet box across the table. Susan gasped as she opened it, revealing a diamond necklace that glittered like fire.

“Henry! How did you know I wanted this design?” Her voice trembled with joy.

“You paused on it in a magazine,” he said softly, fastening it around her neck.

Pain tore through me.

Once, every gift he gave me felt like proof he could read my soul—like an open book, every desire laid bare before I ever spoke it.

Now, he read only hers.

The restaurant lights dimmed. A three-tiered cake appeared, candles flickering like stars.

“Make a wish,” Henry whispered, voice honeyed, dripping with tenderness.

Susan clasped her hands, eyes closed, her face glowing in the candlelight. He looked at her as if she were the only light left in the world.

The candle flames from Susan’s birthday cake still burned in my mind when the night sky lit up again.

Fireworks burst above the river—too close, too loud, too wild.

For a moment, they were beautiful. Then sparks rained where they shouldn’t have. Someone had left a crate too near the crowd. The wood caught; the sparks fell.

I raised my arm as the blast cracked through the air. Heat seared down my forearm, blistering skin in an instant.

“Henry! I’m burned!” Susan shrieked, clutching a faint scrape on her palm.

He didn’t look at me. He scooped her up, carried her toward the exit, and vanished into the smoke—while I staggered alone, my arm raw with pain.

In a daze, I dialed a number.

When I woke again, I was in the hospital.

My friend Nina sat beside me, holding my hand, crying so hard her shoulders shook.

We met in college. Back then, she never liked Henry. She always thought he wasn't good enough for me, and that he didn't deserve my love. We fought about it back then, and I didn't listen to her.

She didn't come to my wedding.

I knew I shouldn't have called her. But she was the only one I could trust now.

“How did this happen to you?” she sobbed. “You told me you were happy. Why isn’t he here?”

Nina cried as she spoke, her voice full of frustration.

I had an oxygen mask on my face, and I smiled weakly at her. She was still the same—quick-tempered, loud, and caring. Those who didn't know us would think we were arguing.

“How long have you been sick?” she demanded suddenly, her voice shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Olivia, don't die, please!” she choked out, gripping my hand tighter. “I already messaged Henry. He’ll come.”

Anyone listening might have thought we were arguing.

I wanted to answer, but my mouth wouldn’t open.

Death was closing in.

Then, suddenly, my phone buzzed.

Nina snatched it up and froze as she read the message.

“Olivia,” Susan’s voice played through a recorded clip, sweet and venomous.

“Don’t think your pitiful patience will earn you mercy. I’m not giving you my kidney. Not now, not ever.”

“For six months, I’ve used every demand to keep Henry by my side—just to make him love me. And he does, you know. Every time he chooses me over you, I win.”

“You’re dying of kidney failure, aren’t you? Perfect. Once you’re gone, I’ll be Mrs. Colombo. You’ve lost, Olivia. You’ve lost everything.”

“Bitch!” Nina screamed, hurling the phone against the wall.

And maybe Susan was right. I had lost—utterly.

Nina dialed again. The ringtone echoed over and over, unanswered. Finally: powered off.

The machine beside me beeped faster. My breaths grew shallow.

Nina’s tears blurred above me.

The room dimmed at the edges.

The last thing I heard before the silence swallowed me was the long, flat tone of the monitor.

Time of death: 13:14, August 13th.