Chapter 3

The emergency room was a chaotic symphony of beeps, hurried footsteps, and hushed, anxious voices.

Ava sat on a hard plastic chair, a temporary bandage pressed to her head, waiting to be seen.

The throbbing had dulled to a persistent ache.

She saw them before they saw her.

Ethan was pacing frantically outside a treatment room, his hair dishevelled, his tie askew.

A nurse hurried out. "Mr. Carter, Ms. Vance is stable, but she's lost some blood. She has a rare blood type, AB negative. We're checking our reserves, but it's always in short supply."

Ethan's head snapped up. His eyes scanned the waiting room, then landed on Ava.

A flicker of something – recognition? Annoyance? – crossed his face.

He strode towards her.

"Ava. What are you doing here?" Then, as if just noticing the bandage, "What happened to your head?"

Before she could answer, the nurse's words seemed to click in his mind.

He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

"AB negative. You're AB negative, aren't you, Ava?"

His voice was urgent, demanding.

Ava stared at him, speechless. Yes, she was. A fact he knew because she'd donated blood for *him* once, years ago, after a minor surgery.

A fact he also knew made her prone to anemia, a condition her recent... procedure... had undoubtedly worsened.

"She needs blood, Ava. Izzy needs it. You have to donate."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

He was looking at her, but not seeing her. He saw only a solution to Izzy's problem.

The memory of her own doctor, just hours ago, warning her to rest, to avoid any strain, to eat iron-rich foods, flashed through her mind.

"Ethan, I..."

"There's no time to argue!" He was already pulling her towards the treatment area. "It's Izzy. She could die!"

He propelled her forward, his grip like iron.

A nurse, seeing the urgency, quickly prepped Ava's arm.

The needle slid in, cold and sharp.

Ava watched her blood, her life force, drain into the bag.

Ethan stood by Izzy's gurney, holding her hand, his eyes fixed on Izzy's pale face.

He didn't look at Ava once.

She felt herself growing weaker, the room starting to tilt.

A wave of faintness washed over her. Her vision blurred.

"Mr. Carter," a doctor said, approaching Ethan. "Ms. Vance is responding well. The transfusion is helping."

Ethan nodded, his relief palpable. He finally glanced at Ava, a brief, cursory look.

"Thanks, Ava. You're a lifesaver." His tone was casual, as if she'd just lent him a pen.

He turned back to Izzy, murmuring soft words.

The doctor looked at Ava, noticing her pallor. "Are you feeling alright, miss?"

"She's fine," Ethan said dismissively, without looking away from Izzy. "She's strong."

"Sir," the doctor began, looking at Ava's chart, then at her. "This patient recently underwent a D&C procedure. And she has a history of anemia. Donating a full unit right now is highly inadvisable..."

"A what?" Ethan finally turned, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

Before the doctor could elaborate, Izzy moaned softly, her eyes fluttering open.

"Ethan? I'm scared."

"I'm here, Izzy. I'm right here," Ethan said, instantly abandoning any interest in Ava or what the doctor was saying. He rushed back to Izzy's side, taking her hand, his voice gentle. "Don't worry. You're going to be fine."

The doctor looked at Ava, a question in his eyes.

Ava managed a weak smile. "He doesn't need to know, Doctor. It's... complicated."

The doctor nodded slowly, his expression sympathetic. "Alright. Let's get you unhooked. You need to rest."

Ava felt a profound sense of detachment. It was as if she were watching a play, a tragicomedy where she was a minor, expendable character.

As they removed the needle, she felt a wave of dizziness so intense she thought she would pass out.

The nurse helped her to a chair, brought her some juice.

Ethan remained by Izzy's side, completely absorbed.

Ava watched the sunset paint the grimy hospital window with strokes of orange and purple.

She remembered another sunset, on their honeymoon in Santorini. Ethan had held her close, whispering, "You and me, Ava. Always. Nothing will ever come between us."

Another broken promise. Another lie.

The bond between them wasn't just broken; it had been systematically dismantled, piece by piece, by his own hands.

She stayed in the hospital overnight for observation due to her head injury and the blood donation.

Ethan never came to check on her. He called once, a brief, perfunctory inquiry, his voice distant. He was, he said, staying with Izzy. She was "too traumatized" to be alone.

Ava spent the next few days recovering at their penthouse, a gilded cage filled with ghosts of what used to be.

She was weak, anemic, her head still aching.

Ethan was rarely home. He was always with Izzy, tending to her every need.

Izzy, meanwhile, was not too traumatized to post on Instagram.

Photos of Ethan bringing her soup in bed. Selfies of them watching movies, Izzy snuggled against his shoulder. Captions filled with gratitude for her "hero" and "rock."

Each post was a fresh stab of pain, a public flaunting of Ethan's devotion to another woman while his wife recovered from his neglect and her own quiet tragedy.

The city, their friends, their entire social circle, saw only Ethan, the devoted man, caring for the "fragile" Izzy.

No one saw Ava, bleeding, grieving, and utterly alone.

One evening, Ethan came home to change clothes.

He found Ava listlessly staring out the window at the city lights.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his tone casual as he knotted a fresh tie.

Ava didn't answer.

"There's a fundraiser tonight. The Children's Literacy Gala. We're expected to attend. Izzy's feeling up to it, surprisingly. Her doctor said a little outing might do her good."

He paused, looking at her reflection in the dark glass. "You should come too, Ava. It'll show a united front. Stop the gossip."

A united front. The irony was almost too much to bear.

Izzy was already in the living room when Ava emerged, dressed in a simple black gown.

Izzy was radiant in a pale blue dress that somehow managed to both highlight and minimize her slight pregnancy. She was sitting on Ethan's usual side of the sofa, effectively claiming his space.

She gave Ava a bright, false smile. "Ava! You look... tired. But it's good you're coming. So brave of you."

Ethan fussed over Izzy, adjusting a non-existent stray hair, his eyes full of adoration.

"Ready, my dears?" he asked, offering an arm to Izzy, and a perfunctory glance to Ava.

Ava felt invisible. A shadow in her own life.

At the gala, the whispers were louder, more pointed.

"That's Ava Carter. The one whose husband is having a baby with his childhood friend."

"I heard her baby isn't even Ethan's. Some scandal with the home invasion."

"Poor Ethan, having to deal with all this. He's such a saint, standing by Izzy."

The words swirled around Ava, sharp as broken glass. She felt her composure begin to crack.