Leaving Ashes, Finding Her Sky

I gave my husband, Chandler, one of my kidneys to save his life. In return, he married me. I was a girl from an orphanage; he was a New York tycoon. I foolishly believed his gratitude would one day turn into love.

Then his first love, Kristyn, came back. When she was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder, Chandler dragged me to the hospital and demanded I give her my bone marrow.

My doctors warned him that with my failing health, another major surgery would be a death sentence. He called me selfish and forced me onto the operating table.

As the doors swung shut, I saw Kristyn, who was supposed to be dying, sit up in her bed. A wicked, triumphant smile spread across her face.

Through the glass, she mouthed the words.

"I don't have a blood disorder, you idiot."

A nurse plunged a thick needle into my spine. They were draining my life away to appease a liar, all on my husband's orders. I died on that table, my last thought a prayer that I would never see him again.

But when I opened my eyes, I wasn't in heaven. I was in a private medical facility, and my long-lost childhood friend, Elijah, was standing over me.

He looked at me, his eyes burning with a protective fire.

"I faked your death, Ava," he said, his voice cold with rage. "Now, let's make them pay."

Chapter 1

Today is our third wedding anniversary. It is also the day Kristyn Palmer, my husband's first love, came back.

She stood on my doorstep, wearing a dress that cost more than my first car, and slid a blank check across the table.

"Name your price, Ava."

Her voice was smooth, confident.

"I want you to disappear from Chandler' s life."

I looked at the check, then at her. I felt nothing. The shock and pain had been burned out of me a long time ago.

She smiled, a sharp, cruel thing. "You have one week to sign the divorce papers and leave. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

I just nodded.

"Good girl," she said, and left.

I sat there in the silence, the check a stark white rectangle on the cheap wood of my dining table. Why had I ever thought this marriage would be anything more than a transaction? A debt paid with my body and my life.

I already knew how this story ended. I' d known for three years.

The memory was always there, waiting in the quiet moments. It was the night of Chandler' s recovery party. He had survived, thanks to my kidney. The Roth family mansion was full of New York' s elite, champagne flowing like water.

I wasn' t part of the celebration. I was in the shadows of the hallway, my body still weak, listening. Listening to my new husband and his grandmother, Doretta Roth, in the library.

"You can' t be serious, Chandler," Doretta' s voice was like ice. "Kristyn left you when you were on your deathbed. She ran off to Europe with that polo player. Ava was the one who stayed. Ava gave you a literal piece of herself to save you."

"I know what Ava did," Chandler' s voice was strained. "I' m grateful."

"Grateful? You owe her your life!"

"But it' s not the same, Grandma. Kristyn... when she cries, I can' t... I still love her."

The words hit me harder than any physical blow. I leaned against the wall, my hand covering my mouth to keep the sound in.

"And Ava?" Doretta pressed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "What is she to you? Your wife?"

There was a long pause. I held my breath, praying for an answer that would not break me.

"What I feel for Ava," Chandler said, his voice quiet but clear, "is gratitude. It' s not love."

Gratitude. Not love.

The memory faded, leaving me back in my small, lonely apartment, the one Chandler rented for me a few blocks from the Roth mansion. It was more convenient that way. He didn' t have to see the living reminder of his debt every day.

My phone buzzed. A message from Kristyn. It was a picture. Her, tangled in the sheets of Chandler' s bed, a triumphant smile on her face. The timestamp was from last night. Our anniversary eve.

A single tear slid down my cheek, hot and wet. Then another. I couldn' t stop them. My body shook with silent sobs.

I was a girl from a working-class neighborhood in Queens. He was the heir to a New York financial empire. We never should have met. But when I was a scared, lonely kid in an orphanage, a boy with kind eyes had given me his candy bar and told me not to cry. That boy was Chandler. I' d loved him from that moment.

Years later, when I heard he was dying from kidney failure, I didn' t hesitate. I was a match. I gave him my kidney, and with it, my health. I developed a severe heart condition from the strain of living with one kidney, a secret I kept to myself.

He proposed to me in his hospital bed after the surgery. There was no ring, no romance. Just a quiet, "Marry me, Ava. It' s the only way I can repay you."

I had fooled myself into thinking his gratitude would one day turn into love. I had believed that my sacrifice would mean something.

I was a fool.

The pain in my chest was sharp now, a familiar agony. I clutched my heart, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

My phone rang. It was Chandler.

"Did you see it, Ava?" his voice was cheerful, distant.

"See what?" I whispered.

"Look outside your window."

I dragged myself to the window. In the sky above Manhattan, a fleet of drones was spelling out a message with clouds of red rose petals.

I LOVE YOU AVA.

It was on the news, a grand, public spectacle of a love that didn't exist.

"Do you like it?" he asked, expecting praise.

My last bit of hope flickered. "Chandler," I begged, my voice cracking. "Please, just come home."

"I can' t right now, baby. I' m in a meeting."

Then I heard her voice in the background, a light, musical laugh. Kristyn.

"Talk to you later," he said quickly, and the line went dead.

That was it. The final cut. The world went dark at the edges. The pain in my chest exploded, and I fell to the floor.

My heart. It was giving out.

I crawled to my purse, my fingers fumbling for the small bottle of pills. The doctor' s words echoed in my head from my last visit.

"Your heart can' t take the stress, Ava. Your remaining kidney is failing. You have maybe six months. A year, if you' re lucky and avoid all stress."

Stress. My life was nothing but stress.

I swallowed the pills dry, the bitter taste a reflection of my life. It was over. All of it. The hope, the pain, the love.

My fingers, shaking, typed out one last message. Not to Chandler. To Kristyn.

You can have him.

Then, I added one final, desperate condition. One last bargain for the life I had thrown away.

Just let me die in peace.