Chapter 4

At dawn, my bedroom door swung open.

Dad stormed in and slapped me across the face. Mom threw her phone down in front of me.

On the screen was Heath's final video, posted just before he slit his wrist. His face was deadly pale, with a bloodstained box cutter lying beside him.

"Julian leaked my messages with Lydia to those troll accounts," he murmured. "He even paid people to harass me online and report my account. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have kept teasing him or expected him to forgive me."

I had no idea what these supposed messages even were. But after hearing Heath's accusations, everyone had decided that I'd orchestrated the online harassment behind the scenes and driven him over the edge.

"Are you happy now, Julian?" Mom hissed, pointing a finger at me. "Heath slit his wrist last night. He's still fighting for his life in the hospital!"

In the suicide note Heath left behind, he'd filled page after page with apologies to me. He claimed he'd only wanted to have some fun with everyone, but in the process, he'd ruined my wedding.

Since I refused to forgive him, the only thing he could do was pay for what he'd done with his life.

Lydia grabbed my wrist, disgust written all over her face.

"It was just one video, yet you had to force him to delete it and ruin his career," she snarled. "If he dies, you'll never be able to live with yourself!"

Still burning up with a fever, I didn't even have time to explain before they dragged me to the hospital.

What they didn't know was that Heath was already awake.

While Mom, Dad, and Lydia stepped out to speak with the doctor, he opened his eyes and gave me a faint, satisfied smile.

"You were with Lydia for seven years and spent an entire year planning your wedding," he drawled. "But so what? All I had to do was say I wanted to go to Isla Verde, and she was willing to leave her fiance behind to go with me. Even your own parents think I'm more like their son than you are."

My entire body shook with rage. "So you deliberately framed me for those messages and the online harassment too?"

As soon as footsteps sounded outside the room, the smugness vanished from Heath's face.

"Julian, stop! Don't pull out my IV!" he suddenly screamed, grabbing my wrist. "I already apologized to you. Why won't you leave me alone?"

Lydia rushed into the room and yanked me away from him. "Julian, have you lost your mind?"

"It wasn't me. He—"

I tried to explain, but Dad shoved me hard from behind.

"Get out!" he roared. "Stop upsetting Heath!"

I stumbled and crashed to the floor, slamming my left side into the sharp corner of a metal trolley. A familiar, excruciating pain tore through me, and I stopped breathing for a moment.

Two months earlier, after the surgery on my ruptured kidney, the doctor had warned me again and again that it couldn't withstand another blow.

"Lydia, my left side hurts," I pleaded, desperately grabbing the sleeve of her shirt. "The doctor said I can't take another hit. My kidney might—"

A weak whimper suddenly came from the bed, cutting me off.

"Lydia…"

Lydia immediately pulled her hand away and hurried to Heath's side. Mom and Dad gathered around him too.

Even when Mom heard me, she didn't bother to look back. "Heath just woke up. Don't pretend to be sick just to steal everyone's attention!"

As everyone crowded around him, comforting him, my vision slowly faded to black.

I finally collapsed.

When I woke again, the doctor was standing beside my bed, his expression grave.

"The old injury to your left kidney was aggravated by the impact. It ruptured again, causing severe internal bleeding," he explained. "You were brought in too late, so we couldn't repair it. To save your life, we had no choice but to remove the kidney."

I stared at him blankly, unable to process what he'd just said.

It wasn't until he left that I slowly raised a hand and touched the thick bandages covering my side.

Two months ago, I'd thrown myself in front of Lydia during that car accident and fought to save the kidney I'd injured protecting her.

I'd endured two months of pain because I wanted to make it to our wedding on schedule, stand beside her, and say those two words myself—"I do."

But the wedding never happened.

And the kidney I'd sacrificed for her had ultimately been lost because of the indifference of the very people who were supposed to care about me.

I lay staring at the ceiling for a long time.

At last, the final thread tying me to them snapped.

No one ever came to visit me. Mom and Dad were busy with Heath, and Lydia never came looking for me either.

The only message on my phone was one she'd sent half an hour earlier.

"Heath's awake. When you're feeling better, come over and apologize to him."

I stayed in the hospital for seven days, and not once did a single member of my family ask how my surgery had gone.

On the eighth day, I signed my discharge papers, returned to the home Lydia and I had prepared for our marriage, and collected my things.

Before leaving, I placed my surgical report and the wedding cancellation confirmation side by side on the dining table.

Then I headed straight for the airport.

…

13 hours later, my plane landed.

Around the same time, after seeing Heath home from the hospital, Lydia finally realized that I hadn't replied to a single message in seven days.

At first, she assumed I was simply sulking. But after a dozen unanswered calls, that inexplicable unease finally turned into panic.

When she returned to our home, no one was there. The only things she found were two sheets of paper on the dining table.

One was the confirmation that the wedding had been canceled. The other was my surgical report.

"Pre-existing left kidney injury. Secondary rupture and severe bleeding caused by external trauma. Left nephrectomy performed."