Chapter 2

I had just gotten back to the apartment when the front door opened. Aubrey walked in, his arm supporting a frail-looking Kennedy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see me. "You discharged yourself?"

His eyes immediately narrowed with suspicion. He connected my early departure with Kennedy's well-being, as if my only purpose was to be a threat to her.

"Did you come back to cause more trouble? I told you, you need to apologize."

I felt a cold laugh building in my chest. He hadn' t once asked how I was feeling. He didn' t care that my leg was stiff as a board or that my stomach felt like it was full of shattered glass. If he'd bothered to ask the nurse, he would have known I' d left against medical advice.

But he hadn' t asked. He never did.

"I' m going to my parents' graves tomorrow," I said, changing the subject. It was the anniversary of their death.

His expression softened slightly. It was one of the few things he still paid lip service to, a nod to the family and duty he valued so highly.

"I' ll go with you," he said. Then he added, "For my parents' sake, I' ll let the apology slide for now. But you need to make it up to Kennedy."

I waited. I knew what was coming.

"She needs someone to look after her while she recovers. That will be your responsibility."

He didn' t even look at me as he continued. "She'll stay in the master bedroom. You can sleep in the guest room."

It was our apartment. My name was on the lease too. But I was being demoted to a guest in my own home to make room for the woman who had tried to kill me.

"Fine," I said. The word was effortless. I didn't care.

He seemed pleased by my compliance. "Good. You' re finally learning. Remember, Eva, in our house, I make the rules."

He waved a dismissive hand toward the kitchen. "Now go make dinner. Kennedy likes your pot roast. Make that, and a few other dishes."

I just nodded and walked toward the kitchen. It' s just one more meal, I told myself. I' ll be gone soon.

I had cooked for him for years. Cooking for his lover one last time didn' t seem like such a stretch.

I turned on the faucet and plunged my hands into the icy water to wash the vegetables. A violent tremor ran through my body. The weather wasn' t even cold, but my system was still in shock from the near-drowning. The doctor had specifically told me to avoid cold water.

I gritted my teeth and bent down to get the electric kettle to boil some water. It was empty.

My face was pale as I walked out of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe for support.

"Aubrey, can you get me some hot water?" I asked. My voice was weaker than I intended.

He looked up from where he was fussing over Kennedy, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Stop being so dramatic, Eva. Just get the food ready. Kennedy is hungry."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I didn' t argue.

Why don' t you care that I' m a patient too? I wanted to scream.

But I knew the answer. It wasn' t that he didn' t think of it. It was that he simply didn' t care.

I forced myself back into the kitchen and somehow managed to prepare a full meal, my body screaming in protest with every movement.

When I went to the bedroom to call them for dinner, the door was slightly ajar. I saw Aubrey holding a cup, carefully helping Kennedy drink from it.

Kennedy saw me first. She put on a pitiful expression. "Eva... I know you' re mad at me. But you shouldn' t have pushed me just because Aubrey gave me that gift."

Gift? My eyes focused on the cup in his hand. It was a dark, fragrant liquid. My stomach dropped.

It was the special herbal tea.

I knew that tea. It came from a small village, handmade and incredibly rare. It was supposed to be good for people with chronic internal coldness, like me. My squad mates had gone to great lengths to get it for me. I had a small tin of it, and I used it sparingly, only when the pain in my gut was unbearable.

"Where did you get that tea?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

Aubrey answered without looking at me. "My brothers brought it over when they visited. I figured you wouldn' t need it."

A hot wave of fury washed over me.

"They brought it for me!" I finally snapped. "It was a gift from my squad, for my injury! And you just gave it to her?"

His face turned to stone. "Don' t be so petty, Eva. It' s just tea. Kennedy is weak right now, she needs it more than you do."

I clenched my jaw, the image of my friends traveling for days to get that small, precious tin flashing in my mind. The thought of their sacrifice being treated so carelessly was a physical blow.

Aubrey saw the look on my face and his own grew impatient.

"You're a soldier, Eva. You should understand sacrifice. Put others before yourself." He used the very values I lived by as a weapon against me.

Kennedy, seeing her chance, chimed in with a weak, apologetic voice. "I' m sorry, Eva. I didn' t know..."

I clenched my fists, my knuckles white. My voice trembled with a rage I could no longer contain. "And what about my injury? The cold makes it worse. I need that tea too."

As if on cue, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. I instinctively pressed a hand against it.

The memory of three years ago was suddenly vivid. A mission gone wrong. An explosion. I had thrown myself in front of Aubrey, taking the brunt of the blast. It was the reason I was medically discharged, the reason I lived with this constant, gnawing pain.

Aubrey looked at my pained expression not with sympathy, but with disgust.

"Stop bringing that up," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "You' re not that fragile. It' s been years."

I stopped talking. There was no point.

In his world, my pain was an inconvenience. My needs were secondary. I would always, always come last.

The next morning, as I prepared to go to the cemetery, Kennedy stumbled out of the bedroom, moaning that she felt dizzy. She dramatically collapsed into Aubrey's arms.