Chapter 2

The first thing Haven saw when she opened her eyes was the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. The smell of antiseptic filled her lungs.

Keegan was sitting in a chair by the bed. He looked exhausted, his designer suit rumpled, a dark stubble shadowing his jaw. There was a faint line of red on his collar where her blood had smeared.

He saw she was awake. His expression was a mixture of relief and anger.

"What were you thinking, Haven?" he asked, his voice low and tense. "That stunt with the glass... were you trying to kill yourself?"

Haven looked at her bandaged arm, then back at his face. All the pain, the hope, the love she' d felt for him had evaporated, leaving behind a cold, empty calm.

"It has nothing to do with you," she said.

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched his lips. "Of course not. How could it? I' m just the guy you pay to keep around. I' m not allowed to have an opinion, am I?"

The words were meant to hurt, to remind her of the power imbalance that had defined their relationship. A week ago, they would have shattered her. Now, they were just noise.

She felt a dull ache in her chest, the phantom pain of a wound that had finally scarred over. She didn't bother to correct him.

"I won' t interfere with you and Cora anymore," she said, her voice flat. "You can be with her. You don' t have to hide."

He frowned at the mention of Cora' s name, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He started to say something, to explain. "Cora just got back to the country. She' s been through a lot. She needs me."

He was making excuses. He was reducing their seven years together to a temporary arrangement, easily set aside for his real love. The thought didn't even hurt anymore. It was just a fact.

A dry, rustling laugh escaped her lips. "Then go. Go be with her."

"She' s fine," he insisted, his voice tight. "The hotel staff got the door open. It was just a minor burn. I' m taking you home."

He didn' t ask. He informed her. He handled her discharge with brisk efficiency, ignoring her protests. He helped her into his car, his touch impersonal, like a valet handling a prized possession.

The drive was silent. The air in the car was cold and heavy.

"You haven' t eaten," he said, breaking the silence. He didn' t look at her.

She had no appetite. The thought of food made her stomach turn.

He didn't listen. He pulled up to a small, unassuming restaurant, one she' d never been to. "You need something light," he said, his voice softer now, a calculated gentleness she knew all too well.

He ordered for her. A simple rice porridge and some steamed vegetables. He remembered she liked her food plain when she was stressed. For a moment, a flicker of the old warmth returned. Maybe he did care, in his own way.

She forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls. The warm porridge settled in her stomach.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Before she could answer, a bright, cheerful voice cut in. "Keegan! I knew I' d find you here!"

Cora slid into the booth beside him, wrapping her arm around his. She was dressed in a sunny yellow dress, looking radiant. She glanced at the food on the table.

"Oh, you ordered my favorite porridge!" she said, clapping her hands together. "You always know just what I want."

Haven' s spoon froze halfway to her mouth. The warmth in her stomach turned to ice. It wasn' t about her. It was never about her. His habits, his preferences, the things Haven thought were their shared intimacies-they were all just echoes of Cora.

"What are you doing up so early?" Keegan asked Cora, his voice softening into that familiar, indulgent tone.

"I wanted to plan our trip to see your parents' graves," Cora said, pouting slightly. "The anniversary is next week. I want to go with you."

Keegan' s face clouded over at the mention of his parents. They had died years ago, a tragedy he rarely spoke of.

"Of course," he said quietly. "I' d like that."

"I still have it, you know," Cora said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She pulled a delicate silver locket from under her dress. It was old and slightly tarnished. "The one your mother gave me before... before she passed. She said it was for her future daughter-in-law."

Cora opened her palm, offering it to him. "I think it' s time I gave it back to you."

Keegan took the locket. He held it in his palm, his thumb stroking the worn silver. For a long moment, Haven thought he might put it in his pocket. A part of her, a foolish, dying part, prayed he would.

Then he looked at Cora, his eyes full of a deep, sorrowful affection. He gently closed her hand over the locket.

"No," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "She gave it to you. You keep it."