From Drowning to Darling: A Second Chance

I walked into City Hall, ready to tear up my marriage application. It was over.

Hours earlier, I woke up in a hospital bed, my fiancé Aubrey beside me, his face a mask of annoyance. He told me to apologize to Kennedy, the woman who had just pushed me into an icy lake, nearly drowning me.

Through the churning water, I had seen Aubrey swim past me, straight to Kennedy, who was faking drowning. He believed her lies, accusing me of attacking her, despite my life-threatening injury.

He dismissed my pain, my sacrifice, and my years of loyalty, all for a woman who had betrayed him in the past. He even used my own values against me, telling me to "put others before yourself."

I was tired. So incredibly tired. The near-drowning had been a baptism. I finally understood: I could not fix this. I could not win his love.

When I returned home, he had already given my precious herbal tea, meant for my chronic pain, to Kennedy. He then demoted me to a guest in my own home, ordering me to cook for her. It was time to burn the last bridge.

Chapter 1

I walked into City Hall, the air thick with the smell of old paper and stale coffee.

"I need my marriage application," I told the clerk.

He looked up from his paperwork, his eyes widening slightly. "Eva? What' s wrong? Did you and Aubrey have a fight?"

"No," I lied, my voice flat. "We just need to update some information on it. A small mistake."

It was a plausible lie. Aubrey was meticulous. A mistake on an official document would drive him crazy.

The clerk, a kind older man named Mr. Gable who had known my family for years, still looked concerned. He pulled the file from a cabinet and slid it across the counter to me.

"Eva," he said, lowering his voice. "Is everything alright with... Kennedy?"

The name hung in the air between us.

"She and Aubrey are close," I said, stating a fact that felt like poison on my tongue. "Always have been."

Mr. Gable nodded slowly, a knowing, sad look in his eyes. It was the look I' d seen on other people' s faces for years.

"That girl is attached to his hip. It's not right, Eva. You're his fiancée. If you want, I can talk to General Gregory about it."

He was offering to go to Aubrey's father. A bitter smile touched my lips. "Thank you, Mr. Gable. But it won' t do any good."

I took the file, turned, and walked out of the office. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I walked to the nearest trash can. I tore the marriage application into small, precise pieces and let them fall from my hands.

It was over.

...

Hours earlier, I had woken up to the sharp, sterile smell of a hospital.

My head throbbed. I was in a hospital bed. Aubrey sat in a chair beside me, his arms crossed, his perfect face set in a frown.

He noticed I was awake. A flicker of annoyance crossed his features before he smoothed it away.

"You' re awake," he said. It wasn' t a question.

I tried to move, but my body felt heavy and weak. A familiar, deep ache flared in my abdomen, a cruel reminder of the IED blast that had ended my career. The cold water had made it worse.

"Are you done making a scene?" Aubrey's voice was sharp, impatient. "You need to go apologize to Kennedy."

Kennedy.

The name was a key, unlocking the memory of what happened before I blacked out.

We were at the lake house. I was on the dock. Kennedy had walked up behind me, a smug smile on her face. She said something about how I didn't deserve Aubrey. Then she pushed me. Hard.

The shock of the icy water stole my breath. My leg, the one with the metal rod, seized up. I was sinking.

Through the churning water, I saw Aubrey dive in. For a second, I felt a surge of hope. Then he swam right past me, toward Kennedy, who was flailing dramatically in the shallow water near the shore, pretending to drown.

The last thing I saw before the world went black was Kennedy, safely on the bank, looking back at me with a triumphant smirk.

I looked at Aubrey now, my voice colder than the lake water. "Apologize? For what?"

His perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together in a tight line of displeasure.

"For pushing her into the lake, Eva. She could have died. Don' t play dumb with me."

A laugh escaped my lips. It was a harsh, ugly sound. "I pushed her? Is that the story she told you?"

Aubrey's expression hardened from impatience to a quiet, controlled rage.

"She would never lie to me. What is wrong with you? You' ve been jealous of her from the start. You saw me talking to her, and you couldn' t handle it, so you attacked her."

The accusation was so ridiculous, so twisted, that all I could do was stare at him.

A bitter smile formed on my face. "You' re right. I' m just a simple soldier. How could I possibly compete with the brilliant schemes of your precious Kennedy?"

In his eyes, I wasn' t a decorated veteran who had served her country. I was just an accessory, a handsome, stable woman he could show off. But Kennedy... Kennedy was a part of him. A toxic part he refused to see.

I had tried, so many times, to talk to him about her. About the way she looked at me, the little things she did to undermine me.

Every time, he had turned it back on me. I was being paranoid. I was insecure. I was trying to control him.

I was tired. So incredibly tired.

The near-drowning hadn' t just been a shock to my system. It had been a baptism. In those dark, freezing moments, I finally understood. I could not fix this. I could not win his love by being loyal and patient. Because he was incapable of giving it.

A nurse walked into the room, her expression brisk. "Mr. Gregory, Ms. Ferrell is awake. She's asking for you."

My gaze met Aubrey's. I gave a slight nod. "Go. She needs you."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face at my easy compliance, quickly replaced by satisfaction. He thought he had won.

"Good," he said, standing up. "When I get back, I expect you to have thought about your apology."

He left.

He didn' t come back.

An hour passed. Then two. The dull ache in my gut turned into a sharp, grinding pain. I didn' t wait any longer. I disconnected the IV myself, ignoring the sting, and slowly got dressed. I had to get out of there.

I walked down the hall, my steps unsteady. As I passed room 204, I heard Aubrey's voice. I glanced through the small window in the door.

Kennedy was in the bed, looking pale and pathetic. Aubrey was sitting beside her, carefully peeling an apple for her, his expression full of a tenderness he had never once shown me.

She murmured something, and he leaned in, his face etched with concern. I watched as she looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration.

It was a perfect, heartbreaking picture.

"You shouldn' t be out of bed."

I turned. It was the nurse from earlier. She looked at me, then at the scene in the room, and her lips thinned in disapproval.

"Your old injuries are acting up because of the cold and the shock," she said, her voice softer now. "You need to rest."

She glanced at Kennedy in the bed. "Unlike some people."

She wasn' t trying to hide her disgust. "She just swallowed a little water. She doesn' t need to be here at all, taking up a bed."

From inside the room, Kennedy' s face flushed with embarrassment. Aubrey immediately stood up and strode to the door, pulling it open. His eyes were like chips of ice.

"She is weak and needs observation," he declared, his voice low and dangerous.

"She's fine," the nurse insisted, refusing to back down. "She's wasting resources."

"I am Assistant U.S. Attorney Aubrey Gregory," he said, the words a clear threat. "My family is a major donor to this hospital. She will stay as long as I deem it necessary."

The nurse' s face fell. She gave me a sympathetic look, then turned and walked away, defeated.

I looked at Aubrey. The man I once thought was a crusader for justice, using his power and influence to protect a manipulative liar. The hypocrisy was staggering.

I just shook my head and started to walk away.

"Eva, wait," he called out.

I stopped but didn' t turn around.

"You still owe Kennedy an apology."

"No," I said, my voice empty of all emotion. "I don' t."

I walked away without another word, leaving him standing in the hallway. I ignored the doctor' s advice at the front desk and signed my own discharge papers.

Then, I went straight to City Hall. It was time to burn the last bridge.

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.

"Kennedy!" Aubrey cried out, his voice filled with a panic I had never heard him use for me.

He caught her, his face a mask of frantic worry. "I' m taking you to the hospital. Right now."

He started for the door, then paused, remembering me.

"Eva, you go to the cemetery alone," he ordered, not even looking at me. "I' ll come find you after I get Kennedy settled."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the silent apartment.

I stood by my parents' graves, the wind cold against my face. I stared at their smiling photos, a familiar anger and sorrow welling up inside me.

"I' m sorry," I whispered, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down my cheek. "I' m sorry I let you down."

My father had been Aubrey's father' s second-in-command. They were more than colleagues; they were brothers. My father died saving his life on a mission.

His last wish was for the Gregory family to look after me.

To fulfill that wish, General Gregory had arranged my engagement to Aubrey.

I had been in love with him for years. I agreed without a second thought.

But Aubrey's heart belonged to someone else: Kennedy. She had been his childhood sweetheart, but she'd left him years ago for a wealthier man. Heartbroken and cynical, Aubrey had agreed to the engagement with me.

A few months ago, he heard Kennedy had fallen on hard times. He pulled strings, used his influence, and brought her back, giving her a job as a paralegal in his office.

And my life had become a living hell.

"I got in," I said to the photos, my voice thick with emotion. I pulled the acceptance letter from my pocket. Stanford University. Engineering.

I held it up for them to see.

Aubrey had always looked down on me for not having a college degree. He said I was uncultured. So I studied in secret, for years, poring over books late into the night after he went to sleep. I wanted to surprise him. I wanted to be the woman he could be proud of.

When I got the letter, my first thought was to turn it down. To stay, marry him, and build a life together.

Now, the letter felt like a lifeline. There was no reason to give it up anymore.

I stayed at the cemetery until the sun went down. Aubrey never came.

When I got back to the apartment, it was dark and empty.

I wasn' t surprised. I wasn' t even hurt anymore. I just felt... empty.

I went to my closet and started packing a small bag. At the back of the closet was a locked box where I kept our savings and important documents. I opened it and began sorting through the contents.

I counted the cash. Suddenly, I froze. A thick stack of hundred-dollar bills was missing. It was our wedding fund.

I searched the box again, my heart starting to pound. I knew I hadn't misplaced them.

Just then, the front door opened again. Aubrey and Kennedy walked in.

My eyes landed on Kennedy. She was wearing a brand-new designer dress. A fine, expensive dress that would have cost a fortune.

I knew instantly where my money had gone.

Aubrey saw me holding the box and frowned. "What are you doing? Stop messing with that and go make some chicken soup for Kennedy."

A cold smile spread across my face. "I think we' ve been robbed."

His face darkened. "Don' t be ridiculous. I took the money."

"You took it?"

"Kennedy was cold," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She needed a new dress. It was for a work event. It' s not a big deal."

My voice was barely a whisper. "Do you remember what you promised me?"

I looked down at my own worn-out jacket, the elbows patched. "You said we would use that money to get me a new suit for our wedding. I saved for two years."