Chapter 2

The call ended. My mother looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear.

"Another ceremony?" she whispered. "Alana, are you sure it will be okay this time?"

I just nodded, too exhausted to explain. I hadn't told her the whole plan. Not yet.

Just then, the hospital room door swung open.

Damian stood there, a bouquet of my favorite lilies in his hand.

My heart seized in my chest. A cold dread washed over me. He couldn't be here. Not now.

I shot a panicked look at my mother. She understood immediately, her face hardening as she stood between me and the door.

He can't find out, I thought frantically. He would never let me leave. He would lock me up, chain me to him forever. That was his version of love.

Damian walked into the room, his eyes filled with a theatrical sorrow.

"Alana, my love," he began, his voice soft and pleading. "I have to ask you something."

I stared at him, my body tense.

"Eileen and I... we're getting married. Tomorrow."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"It's just for show," he rushed to explain, seeing the look on my face. "It's what her therapist suggested. A way to give her a sense of security so she can finally heal. Then, I'll divorce her and we can be together. Properly. I'll give you everything you've ever wanted."

He looked at me, his eyes begging for understanding. "I need you to be there, Alana. As Eileen's maid of honor."

The absurdity of it was so profound, it almost made me laugh. My maid of honor. At my fiancé's wedding to another woman. A woman who had tormented me, who he had helped torment me.

My heart, which I thought had been shattered into dust, felt a fresh, sharp pang of pain.

What was I to him? A toy? A pet he could abuse and then soothe with empty promises?

I remembered him whispering in my ear, "Alana, you're my world. My only one." A bitter lie.

A surge of rage, hot and pure, shot through me. I grabbed the water glass from my bedside table and hurled it at him.

"Get out!"

He dodged it easily, the glass shattering against the wall behind him. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension.

"Alana, be reasonable," he said, his voice calm, infuriatingly calm.

"The wedding is tomorrow," he continued, as if I hadn't just thrown a glass at his head. "I'll have someone pick you up."

He wanted to legitimize his relationship with Eileen while keeping me on a leash. He wanted the world to see me, his actual fiancée, blessing their union. It was the ultimate humiliation.

"You're both sick," I spat, my voice shaking with fury. "You and her. You're insane. And I'm not your cure."

I grabbed the pillow from behind my head and threw it at him with all my strength.

This time, he didn't move. The pillow bounced harmlessly off his chest.

"They're sending a beautiful dress for you to wear," he said, completely unfazed. "Lavender. Your favorite color."

He stepped closer. "After this is all over, I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"GET OUT!" I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat, raw and desperate. It echoed down the hospital corridor.

For the next few days, my hospital room became a stage for their sick play. Damian and Eileen visited constantly. They'd sit by my bed, holding hands, and talk about their wedding plans, begging me to participate.

Eileen would put on her best performance, her eyes wide with feigned innocence.

"Alana, please," she'd whisper, her voice trembling. "It would mean so much to me. I'm so scared. Having you there would make me feel safe."

Then she'd clutch her chest, her breathing becoming shallow, her body slumping as if she were about to faint.

The nurses and other patients would look at me with disgust. "That poor girl," they'd whisper. "And her fiancée is so cruel to her."

I was the villain in their story.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. During one of their visits, I looked Eileen dead in the eye.

"I hope you die," I said, my voice low and venomous.

Eileen's face crumpled. She burst into tears. "I can't do it, Damian! I can't marry you if she hates me this much! Let's just cancel everything!"

She ran out of the room, sobbing hysterically.

Damian whirled on me, his face a mask of fury.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" he roared, grabbing my shoulders. "Can't you just endure it for a little while? For me?"

"I'm doing all of this so we can be together! Once she's better, everything will go back to normal! I promise!" His face was twisted, his eyes wild.

"And what if she never gets better?" I asked, my voice flat.

He faltered for a second. "She will. She has to."

I was tired. So tired of fighting. "Go after her, Damian," I said wearily. "Before she runs into traffic and I get blamed for her death."

That was all it took. He let go of me and bolted from the room, calling her name.

I looked at the empty doorway, my heart a cold, dead weight in my chest. I couldn't stand another second in this place.

I decided to check myself out. I packed my small bag, my hands moving with a new, firm purpose.

As I walked through the hospital lobby, I saw him.

Damian was standing by the information desk, a huge, happy grin on his face. He was handing out small, elegant boxes of wedding favors to the nurses.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Avila!" one of them gushed.

My blood ran cold. I fumbled for my phone.

A new message. From Eileen.

It was a photo. A picture of two hands, intertwined. On their ring fingers were matching wedding bands. Below the photo was another picture: their official marriage certificate, dated today.

The wedding wasn't tomorrow. It was today. He had lied. Again.