Chapter 3

Ethan used to whisper promises in the dark.

"I'll always protect you, Ava."

"No one will ever hurt you while I'm around."

His words were a shield I' d wrapped around myself.

Now, those same words echoed in my mind, hollow and mocking.

His current actions weren't protecting me; they were the source of my deepest wound.

The disillusionment was a bitter taste in my mouth.

He tried to maintain the facade, of course.

The next morning, he brought me coffee in bed, just the way I liked it.

"Feeling better today, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice gentle, his eyes carefully neutral.

"The doctor said you just need to take it easy. No stress."

I looked at him, at the man I thought I knew.

"Ethan," I started, my voice low, "about Brooke..."

"What about her?" he said, a little too quickly. "She's recovering well, thanks to you. We should all be grateful."

He was shutting down the conversation before it even began.

I saw through his act. The gentle concern was a performance.

The real Ethan was somewhere else, hidden behind a wall of deceit.

My detachment grew, a necessary armor.

A few days later, Ethan suggested a drive. "Fresh air will do you good."

Chloe and Brooke came along. "A girls' day out, sort of," Chloe said with forced brightness.

Brooke sat in the front with Ethan, chattering about a new boutique.

I sat in the back, feeling weak and nauseous. The side effects of the donation were hitting me hard: chronic fatigue, a constant thrum of immune system distress.

Suddenly, Ethan swerved violently.

"Damn it!" he yelled.

A small, scruffy dog had darted into the road.

He slammed on the brakes, tires screeching. I lurched forward, my head hitting the back of Brooke' s seat. Pain shot through my neck.

"Ava, you okay?" Chloe asked, turning briefly.

But Ethan was already out of the car, cooing at the stray dog.

"Oh, you poor thing! Are you hurt?"

He was obsessed, instantly. The dog was yelping, favoring a paw.

"We have to get him to a vet," Ethan declared, scooping up the mangy creature. "A 24-hour vet."

Brooke was right there beside him, stroking the dog. "Oh, Ethan, you' re so kind. He' s lucky you found him."

My head was throbbing. I felt sick.

"Ethan," I said, my voice weak. "I... I don' t feel well."

He barely glanced back. "Just hang on, Ava. This little guy needs help."

He prioritized a stray dog, a creature he' d just met, over me, his fiancée, who was clearly unwell because of a sacrifice made for him.

The symbolism wasn't lost on me. The dog was more important.

The emergency vet visit for the dog stretched for hours.

I sat in the car, waves of dizziness washing over me.

Later, back at the apartment, the side effects worsened. Sharp pains, unrelenting fatigue.

Ethan and Chloe exchanged worried glances.

"Maybe you should see a specialist," Chloe suggested hesitantly.

"We can't afford it right now," Ethan said, his voice tight. "Things are still... recovering financially. Try some Tylenol. You're probably just run down."

Over-the-counter remedies for severe post-transplant complications.

The cruelty of it was staggering.

A few days later, Chloe was at a nearby pharmacy picking up a prescription for her allergies.

I' d asked her to get me more painkillers.

As she waited, she overheard two nurses talking near the counter.

"Yeah, that immune-booster, the one for post-transplant patients? It' s actually not that expensive. Less than a good bottle of wine, for a course."

Chloe told me later, her face pale with dawning horror.

The specialist, the medication I desperately needed – they could have afforded it.

They chose not to.

Their callousness was a physical blow.

That evening, feeling utterly miserable and alone, I scrolled through Instagram.

A new post from Brooke.

A video.

Ethan, laughing, driving a sleek, rented convertible, top down.

Chloe, beside him, holding up a ridiculously expensive-looking designer dog bed.

The stray dog, now clean and fluffy, was in the back, already named "Lucky."

Brooke' s voice, sugary sweet, narrated: "Road trip to find Lucky the perfect accessories! Some people just attract all the luck. And the best things in life! 😉 #Blessed #AustinLife #SpoiledPup."

The video showed them at a high-end pet boutique, then at an outdoor cafe, Ethan feeding the dog a piece of steak from his plate.

The same Ethan who claimed they were "tight on cash."

The same Ethan who suggested Tylenol for my agony.

The contrast, the blatant disregard for my suffering, was a dagger to my heart.

A sob escaped me, raw and painful.

The phone clattered from my shaking hands.

This wasn't just neglect. This was a deliberate, cruel flaunting of their happiness at my expense.

My anger, my sense of injustice, boiled over.

I was a fool. A used, discarded fool.