From Drowning to Darling: A Second Chance

I walked into City Hall, ready to tear up my marriage application. It was over.

Hours earlier, I woke up in a hospital bed, my fiancé Aubrey beside me, his face a mask of annoyance. He told me to apologize to Kennedy, the woman who had just pushed me into an icy lake, nearly drowning me.

Through the churning water, I had seen Aubrey swim past me, straight to Kennedy, who was faking drowning. He believed her lies, accusing me of attacking her, despite my life-threatening injury.

He dismissed my pain, my sacrifice, and my years of loyalty, all for a woman who had betrayed him in the past. He even used my own values against me, telling me to "put others before yourself."

I was tired. So incredibly tired. The near-drowning had been a baptism. I finally understood: I could not fix this. I could not win his love.

When I returned home, he had already given my precious herbal tea, meant for my chronic pain, to Kennedy. He then demoted me to a guest in my own home, ordering me to cook for her. It was time to burn the last bridge.

Chapter 1

I walked into City Hall, the air thick with the smell of old paper and stale coffee.

"I need my marriage application," I told the clerk.

He looked up from his paperwork, his eyes widening slightly. "Eva? What' s wrong? Did you and Aubrey have a fight?"

"No," I lied, my voice flat. "We just need to update some information on it. A small mistake."

It was a plausible lie. Aubrey was meticulous. A mistake on an official document would drive him crazy.

The clerk, a kind older man named Mr. Gable who had known my family for years, still looked concerned. He pulled the file from a cabinet and slid it across the counter to me.

"Eva," he said, lowering his voice. "Is everything alright with... Kennedy?"

The name hung in the air between us.

"She and Aubrey are close," I said, stating a fact that felt like poison on my tongue. "Always have been."

Mr. Gable nodded slowly, a knowing, sad look in his eyes. It was the look I' d seen on other people' s faces for years.

"That girl is attached to his hip. It's not right, Eva. You're his fiancée. If you want, I can talk to General Gregory about it."

He was offering to go to Aubrey's father. A bitter smile touched my lips. "Thank you, Mr. Gable. But it won' t do any good."

I took the file, turned, and walked out of the office. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I walked to the nearest trash can. I tore the marriage application into small, precise pieces and let them fall from my hands.

It was over.

...

Hours earlier, I had woken up to the sharp, sterile smell of a hospital.

My head throbbed. I was in a hospital bed. Aubrey sat in a chair beside me, his arms crossed, his perfect face set in a frown.

He noticed I was awake. A flicker of annoyance crossed his features before he smoothed it away.

"You' re awake," he said. It wasn' t a question.

I tried to move, but my body felt heavy and weak. A familiar, deep ache flared in my abdomen, a cruel reminder of the IED blast that had ended my career. The cold water had made it worse.

"Are you done making a scene?" Aubrey's voice was sharp, impatient. "You need to go apologize to Kennedy."

Kennedy.

The name was a key, unlocking the memory of what happened before I blacked out.

We were at the lake house. I was on the dock. Kennedy had walked up behind me, a smug smile on her face. She said something about how I didn't deserve Aubrey. Then she pushed me. Hard.

The shock of the icy water stole my breath. My leg, the one with the metal rod, seized up. I was sinking.

Through the churning water, I saw Aubrey dive in. For a second, I felt a surge of hope. Then he swam right past me, toward Kennedy, who was flailing dramatically in the shallow water near the shore, pretending to drown.

The last thing I saw before the world went black was Kennedy, safely on the bank, looking back at me with a triumphant smirk.

I looked at Aubrey now, my voice colder than the lake water. "Apologize? For what?"

His perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together in a tight line of displeasure.

"For pushing her into the lake, Eva. She could have died. Don' t play dumb with me."

A laugh escaped my lips. It was a harsh, ugly sound. "I pushed her? Is that the story she told you?"

Aubrey's expression hardened from impatience to a quiet, controlled rage.

"She would never lie to me. What is wrong with you? You' ve been jealous of her from the start. You saw me talking to her, and you couldn' t handle it, so you attacked her."

The accusation was so ridiculous, so twisted, that all I could do was stare at him.

A bitter smile formed on my face. "You' re right. I' m just a simple soldier. How could I possibly compete with the brilliant schemes of your precious Kennedy?"

In his eyes, I wasn' t a decorated veteran who had served her country. I was just an accessory, a handsome, stable woman he could show off. But Kennedy... Kennedy was a part of him. A toxic part he refused to see.

I had tried, so many times, to talk to him about her. About the way she looked at me, the little things she did to undermine me.

Every time, he had turned it back on me. I was being paranoid. I was insecure. I was trying to control him.

I was tired. So incredibly tired.

The near-drowning hadn' t just been a shock to my system. It had been a baptism. In those dark, freezing moments, I finally understood. I could not fix this. I could not win his love by being loyal and patient. Because he was incapable of giving it.

A nurse walked into the room, her expression brisk. "Mr. Gregory, Ms. Ferrell is awake. She's asking for you."

My gaze met Aubrey's. I gave a slight nod. "Go. She needs you."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face at my easy compliance, quickly replaced by satisfaction. He thought he had won.

"Good," he said, standing up. "When I get back, I expect you to have thought about your apology."

He left.

He didn' t come back.

An hour passed. Then two. The dull ache in my gut turned into a sharp, grinding pain. I didn' t wait any longer. I disconnected the IV myself, ignoring the sting, and slowly got dressed. I had to get out of there.

I walked down the hall, my steps unsteady. As I passed room 204, I heard Aubrey's voice. I glanced through the small window in the door.

Kennedy was in the bed, looking pale and pathetic. Aubrey was sitting beside her, carefully peeling an apple for her, his expression full of a tenderness he had never once shown me.

She murmured something, and he leaned in, his face etched with concern. I watched as she looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration.

It was a perfect, heartbreaking picture.

"You shouldn' t be out of bed."

I turned. It was the nurse from earlier. She looked at me, then at the scene in the room, and her lips thinned in disapproval.

"Your old injuries are acting up because of the cold and the shock," she said, her voice softer now. "You need to rest."

She glanced at Kennedy in the bed. "Unlike some people."

She wasn' t trying to hide her disgust. "She just swallowed a little water. She doesn' t need to be here at all, taking up a bed."

From inside the room, Kennedy' s face flushed with embarrassment. Aubrey immediately stood up and strode to the door, pulling it open. His eyes were like chips of ice.

"She is weak and needs observation," he declared, his voice low and dangerous.

"She's fine," the nurse insisted, refusing to back down. "She's wasting resources."

"I am Assistant U.S. Attorney Aubrey Gregory," he said, the words a clear threat. "My family is a major donor to this hospital. She will stay as long as I deem it necessary."

The nurse' s face fell. She gave me a sympathetic look, then turned and walked away, defeated.

I looked at Aubrey. The man I once thought was a crusader for justice, using his power and influence to protect a manipulative liar. The hypocrisy was staggering.

I just shook my head and started to walk away.

"Eva, wait," he called out.

I stopped but didn' t turn around.

"You still owe Kennedy an apology."

"No," I said, my voice empty of all emotion. "I don' t."

I walked away without another word, leaving him standing in the hallway. I ignored the doctor' s advice at the front desk and signed my own discharge papers.

Then, I went straight to City Hall. It was time to burn the last bridge.