Chapter 2

The memory began in high school. Israel was a quiet orphan on a scholarship, bussing tables after school to make ends meet. Isabella Stone was the daughter of the city's wealthiest tech mogul, bright, popular, and completely out of his league. He' d watched her from a distance, the way one watches a star, never dreaming of getting closer.

He saw her with Buddie Spencer, the captain of the football team, another child of wealth and privilege. They were the perfect couple. Israel would watch them in the hallways, a familiar ache in his chest, and then go back to his homework and his part-time job. He knew his place.

Years passed. He worked his way through college, studying computer engineering. He was in his final year when he saw her again. She was sitting alone in the university library, looking smaller and more vulnerable than he remembered. He almost didn' t approach her, but something in her posture, a hint of sadness, pulled him in.

She was surprised he remembered her. They talked for hours. She wasn't the untouchable princess he had imagined. She was smart, driven, and had a deep-seated fear of not living up to her family's expectations. He found himself opening up to her, telling her about his own struggles. She listened, and for the first time, he felt seen.

They became friends. He was her confidant, the one person she could be herself with. His feelings for her deepened into a quiet, steady love, but he never spoke of it. She was still with Buddie, and Israel accepted his role as her friend.

After graduation, she offered him a job at her family' s company, Stone Industries. "I need people I can trust, Izzy," she' d said. He accepted without hesitation, just for the chance to be near her.

A year later, she announced her engagement to Buddie Spencer. Israel' s heart broke, but he smiled and congratulated her, burying his pain so deep she would never see it. He told himself her happiness was all that mattered.

Then came the fire.

It started in the new data center, a project Isabella had personally overseen. A catastrophic electrical failure. The building went up in flames with her and her mother, Harriet, trapped on an upper floor. Chaos erupted. Fire alarms blared. People screamed and ran.

Buddie Spencer was there. He got out, then stood on the street, watching the building burn, his face pale with fear. He made no move to go back.

But Israel did. Without a second thought, he ran back into the inferno. He found Isabella trying to drag her unconscious mother through the thick, black smoke. He threw Harriet over his shoulder and guided a coughing, terrified Isabella through the collapsing structure. He got them out just as the roof gave way.

Isabella was mostly unharmed, but Harriet had suffered severe smoke inhalation and slipped into a coma. Buddie, seeing the extent of Harriet's injuries and the potential for a corporate scandal, disappeared. He broke off the engagement and left the country, leaving Isabella to face the fallout alone.

The company teetered on the brink of collapse. Isabella was a wreck, consumed by guilt and grief. And Israel was there. He never left her side. He sat with her in the hospital, managed her affairs, and held her when she woke up screaming from nightmares.

He took on Harriet' s care himself, refusing to let her be put in a long-term facility. He learned her medical routines, talked to her for hours, and treated her like his own mother.

Isabella slowly began to heal, to rebuild. She poured herself into her work, and with Israel' s quiet support, she saved the company and began to transform it into the tech giant it was today.

One night, about a year after the fire, she turned to him, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't quite read.

"Why, Izzy?" she asked. "Why are you still here?"

He just looked at her, his heart in his eyes.

She reached out and touched his face. "Marry me, Israel."

He was stunned. "Isabella... you don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything." He had to know. "Is this because you're grateful?"

She looked him straight in the eye, her expression serious. "No," she said, her voice firm. "It's because I love you. I see now. It was always you."

He believed her. He wanted to believe her so badly that he ignored the small, doubtful voice in the back of his mind.

They were married in a small, private ceremony at the courthouse. There was no party, no honeymoon. Afterward, they went home, and Israel helped Isabella with a new product proposal while he made sure Harriet' s feeding tube was working correctly.

Over the next five years, he was the perfect husband. He supported her career, managed the household, and was Harriet' s unwavering caregiver. He put his own ambitions on hold, finding his purpose in her success and her mother' s comfort.

She would often come home late, exhausted from work, and find him by Harriet' s bed.

"Thank you, Izzy," she would say, kissing his cheek.

"You don't have to thank me," he always replied. "I love you. That's what you do for the people you love."

Now, sitting in the quiet room with only the sound of a ventilator for company, Israel finally understood.

He had been so wrong. Love wasn't something you could earn through devotion. And gratitude, he now realized with crushing certainty, was a poor substitute for love.