Chapter 3

When I came back to myself, there was a nasal cannula in my nose and something clipped to my finger.

The monitors beeped steadily at my ear.

Diana was not in the room.

I pulled off the leads and the clip and shuffled slowly out into the hallway.

The moment I opened the door, I heard sounds coming from the stairwell.

Diana's voice.

The stairwell was dim. Diana was pressed close against Vincent, his arm wrapped tight around her.

"God, Diana, I was terrified just now. I thought he was going to hit you. If he had actually laid a hand on you–kidney or no kidney, no matter what he gave up for me, I swear I would've beaten him to a pulp."

Diana's face flushed. She pushed lightly against his chest. "He'd never actually hit me. You're overthinking it, Vincent. Besides, you're right here, aren't you?"

"Diana… I've been regretting it ever since. If I hadn't left back then, if I'd stayed… would things have turned out differently? We wouldn't have missed all those years."

I let out a short, quiet laugh.

Then I watched as Vincent tilted his head down and kissed her, stopping whatever words had been rising to her lips.

"Excuse me, aren't you the patient in bed thirteen? What are you doing standing out here?"

The sudden voice behind me made the woman in the stairwell flinch.

Diana shoved the door open, not even having time to wipe the tears from her face.

She frowned at me. "Nathan, what are you doing out of bed?"

I held her gaze for a long moment, then shifted my eyes to Vincent, who was wearing a satisfied little smile.

With Diana distracted, he had finally stopped pretending.

"And what about you?" The nurse turned sharply to Diana. "How are you watching a patient? He's ripped out his cardiac monitor and wandered off, and you didn't even notice? The doctor's been calling for you, where have you been?"

Diana swallowed and said nothing.

I turned and went back to my room. Diana followed.

The doctor did not wait for her. He came to my room himself.

"Nathan, your condition is this serious. Why did you wait so long before coming to the hospital?"

I pressed my lips together, unsure how to answer.

Diana spoke up before I could, her voice carrying an air of genuine bewilderment. "Hasn't he always been like this? He's been on dialysis for years. Even in the hospital, it's just IV fluids and anti-inflammatory treatment. Isn't going to a clinic near home basically the same?"

I looked at her without expression.

All those years, I had rushed home early from appointments so she would not worry. Running back and forth to the hospital was inconvenient, and Diana had just started a new job and could not easily take time off, so I had quietly arranged to get my IV drips at a small clinic around the corner.

When I finished early enough, I would stop by the supermarket next door and buy groceries to cook her favorite dishes.

We had been married for years. And I had never known, until now, that Diana could make chicken broth.

The ache in my chest expanded, hollow and raw.

"The same? How can that be the same?" the doctor snapped. "The test results were already explained to you as his family member. His condition is very serious. His metabolism is severely impaired. How is a grown man this malnourished? Are you not feeding him at home?"

Diana stood there as the doctor scolded her, her face shifting between pale and flushed.

Of course, she would not dare tell anyone what she had done to me.

Even if I spoke up, it would not bring back the kidney that was already gone.

I lay there, exhausted, staring at the ceiling.

Beside me, Diana frowned as she flipped through my test results, page after page.

In that moment, I understood.

Before this, she had never really looked at them. She had never truly listened to what the doctor said.