The Scar He Left: Finding True Love

For three years, I was Colton's hands and feet. I wiped the sweat from his brow and taught him to walk again after the accident that nearly killed him.

He promised me a future.

But the moment his ex-girlfriend, Charlie, returned from Paris, I became nothing.

"She was just the crutch I needed to walk to you," I heard him tell her.

At his recovery party, Charlie shattered his late father's cherished wooden puzzle box and blamed me. She shrieked that I had poisoned her soup out of jealousy.

Colton didn't hesitate. He didn't check the security footage. He didn't ask for the truth.

He gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my cheeks, and forced the scalding broth down my throat.

"Eat it! Prove you're not crazy!"

He roared while I choked on blood and blisters, the hot liquid searing my skin. He chose the woman who abandoned him over the woman who saved his life.

I took the severance check, deleted every photo, and vanished into the night.

Six months later, I was accepting an award for my new rehabilitation clinic in Australia, wearing a diamond ring given to me by a man who treats my scars like gold.

Colton stood in the back of the auditorium, looking like a ghost. He had finally discovered that Charlie was a fraud who faked her "spiritual journey" to get illegal plastic surgery.

He came to beg for forgiveness.

But when our eyes met, I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel love.

I turned my back on him and walked into the light.

Chapter 1

Aminda POV

Three years of my life-one thousand and ninety-five days of devotion-evaporated in the span of a single sentence overheard through a crack in the mahogany door.

"She was just the crutch I needed to walk to you, Charlie."

I stood frozen in the hallway, a tray of Colton's favorite organic kale smoothies trembling violently in my hands.

Just an hour ago, I was the woman who had dabbed the feverish sweat from his brow, held him when he screamed from the white-hot agony of nerve regeneration, and declined a triple-salary offer from a prestigious clinic in Zurich just to see his rehabilitation through to the end.

I thought I was his savior.

I'd foolishly convinced myself I was his future.

Only yesterday, during a grueling session on the parallel bars, his legs had given out. I had caught him, my small frame buckling under his inert weight. We had sunk to the floor together, his heavy, ragged breathing mixing with mine. He had reached up, his calloused thumb brushing the tears from my under-eye.

"When you get me walking again, Aminda," he had whispered, his voice rough with a vulnerability he showed no one else, "I owe you a future."

That sentence had been the fuel that kept me burning the midnight oil, researching experimental nerve therapies until my vision blurred.

Now, standing outside his study, that fuel turned into acid in my veins.

"Don't be cruel, Colt," a male voice laughed. It was Jayden, his best friend. "Aminda gave up everything for you."

"I'm grateful," Colton's voice was crisp, devoid of the warmth that had enveloped me just yesterday. "But gratitude isn't love. Charlie is coming back. Tonight. At the recovery party. I'm going to announce it properly."

"You're bringing Charlie Mack? The woman who dumped you when you crashed the car?" Isaias asked, sounding incredulous. "And you're doing this in front of Aminda?"

"Aminda is a professional," Colton said. The dismissal in his tone was sharper than a scalpel, cutting me to the bone. "She knows her place. She's a therapist. Charlie is... Charlie is the only woman I've ever seen in my future. Tonight is about reclaiming my life. My real life."

My grip failed.

The tray slipped from my fingers.

It didn't crash to the floor. I managed to catch it against my hip in a clumsy reflex, but the smoothie splashed over my pristine white uniform, staining it a grotesque green.

My ears rang-a high-pitched, deafening whine that drowned out the world.

He didn't love me. He didn't even see me.

I was just the mechanic fixing the car so he could drive it to another woman's house.

I turned and ran.

I didn't care about the stain. I didn't care about the party starting in three hours.

I sprinted down the long, marble corridor of the estate that had been my home for three years. My breath hitched in my throat, jagged and painful, like swallowing glass.

I burst out the side door into the garden, blinded by hot tears.

The toe of my sneaker caught on a loose paving stone.

I went down hard. My knees slammed into the gravel, the skin tearing instantly.

I sat there, gasping for air, staring at the blood welling up through the fabric of my torn leggings. The sting in my knees was grounding, a sharp physical counterpoint to the hollowed-out ruin of my chest.

A flash of memory hit me. The first time I massaged his atrophied calves. He had looked at me with such intense self-hatred, and I had smiled, promising him he would run again. I fell in love with his brokenness because I thought I was the one healing it.

What a joke.

I dragged myself up, forcing my trembling legs to move, and limped to the guest cottage where I stayed.

Inside, I went straight to the drawer I hadn't opened in months. There, buried under a stack of medical journals, was a check. Five million dollars. Signed by Esther Carlton, Colton's mother.

"Take it and leave when he's better," she had said, her voice cold and transactional. "He won't marry help."

I had been so insulted then. Now, I just felt numb.

I picked up the check.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Colton.

Party starts at 7. Make sure you're dressed. Charlie is arriving at 7:15. I want you to ensure her seating is comfortable.

He was asking me to serve the woman he was replacing me with.

I looked at the mirror. My face was pale, eyes red-rimmed. I looked like a ghost haunting my own life.

On the dresser sat a cheap plastic hair clip. It was the only thing he had ever given me-a dollar-store trinket he bought from a street vendor during our first wheelchair outing because the wind was blowing my hair in his face. I had treated it like a diamond.

I picked it up.

I squeezed my hand. Harder.

The plastic snapped with a sharp, violent crack.

Shards dug into my palm. I didn't let go. I squeezed until a drop of blood welled up and dripped onto the pristine wooden floor.

Outside, the sound of the orchestra tuning up for the party drifted through the window. Laughter. Champagne corks popping.

He was celebrating his future.

I looked at the broken plastic in my bloody hand.

I would go to the party. But not to serve Charlie Mack.

I would go to say goodbye to the last three years of my stupidity.

Aminda POV

The ballroom was a suffocating sea of silk and diamonds. The scent of expensive perfume hung heavy in the air, sweet enough to choke on.

I stood near the entrance, anchored in a simple black dress I had bought three years ago. It was the only formal thing I owned. In this crowd, I looked exactly like what I was: the help.

Colton stood in the center of the room.

He was standing. Without crutches. Without me.

He looked magnificent in a tuxedo, his broad shoulders filling out the fabric, his height commanding the space. He was the Golden Boy of the tech world again. The broken man I knew was gone.

And draped over his arm, looking like she had been sheathed in liquid gold, was Charlie Mack.

She was beautiful in the way a predator is beautiful. Sharp, sleek, and dangerous.

"Look at them," a woman whispered near me. "A match made in heaven. I heard she flew back from Paris just for this."

"He looks so happy," another replied. "Like the accident never happened."

Like I never happened.

Colton scanned the room. His gaze slid over the crowd and landed on me.

For a second, I expected him to smile. To wave. To acknowledge that he was standing on legs I had helped rebuild, muscle by painful muscle.

Instead, his brow furrowed. He leaned down, whispered something to Charlie, and they began to cut through the crowd toward me.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Maybe he would explain. Maybe he would say the conversation I overheard was a misunderstanding.

"Aminda," Colton said. His voice was cool, professional. "You're late."

"I had to clean up," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands.

Charlie smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "So this is the little therapist? Colton told me how... dedicated you were."

She twisted the word 'dedicated' until it sounded like 'desperate'.

"She did her job," Colton said, cutting in. He didn't look at me. He looked at the guests watching us. "Aminda, I need you to grab a glass of water for Charlie. She's parched from the flight."

The air left my lungs.

He wasn't introducing me. He was giving me an order.

Jayden appeared beside us, his face dark. "Colt, seriously? Get a waiter."

"It's fine," Colton waved him off, his eyes fixed on Charlie with a sickening adoration. "Aminda knows what Charlie likes."

I didn't move.

"Actually"-my voice was quiet but clear-"I don't."

Colton's head snapped toward me. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't used to resistance. Not from me. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not a waitress, Colton. And as of this afternoon, I'm not your therapist anymore either."

A hush fell over the immediate circle of people.

Charlie laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She stepped closer, looping her arm possessively through Colton's. She looked at me with victory dancing in her pupils.

"Oh, honey," Charlie cooed, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. "Don't be like that. We all know you developed a little... crush. It happens. The patient-doctor transference thing. But Colton is back in the real world now. His world."

She gestured around the opulent room. "This world isn't for you, Aminda. You're young. You'll find someone... simpler. Someone who needs fixing."

I looked at Colton. I waited for him to defend me. To tell her to stop.

He just sighed, looking annoyed. "Charlie is right, Aminda. Don't make this awkward. You were a great employee. Let's leave it at that."

Employee.

The word hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

Three years of sleeping on a cot in his room when he had nightmares. Three years of holding his hand. Three years of I owe you a future.

"Employee," I repeated.

I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. My hand was steady now. The shaking had stopped. A cold clarity had set in.

"To the happy couple," I said.

I downed the drink in one swallow, the bubbles burning my throat.

"Good luck, Colton," I whispered. "You're going to need it."

I placed the empty glass on a table with a deliberate clink.

I turned my back on him.

"Aminda!" Colton called out, his tone warning. "Walk away now and don't expect a reference."

I kept walking.

I cut through the crowd of staring faces. I felt their pity, their amusement. Look at the poor girl who thought she had a chance.

But as I pushed through the heavy double doors into the cool night air, I didn't feel shame.

I felt lighter.

I had my luggage packed in the cottage. I had a flight booked for 6:00 AM.

I was done.

Aminda POV

I made it as far as the garden path before the raucous noise of the party faded into a dull, rhythmic thrum. The night air was biting, stinging the raw skin on my knees from my earlier fall.

"Running away so soon?"

The voice was melodic, cloying like syrup over rot.

I stopped. I didn't turn around. "I have a flight to catch, Charlie. Go back to your fiancé."

Charlie stepped in front of me, blocking the path to the cottage. She held a glass of red wine, swirling it with a casual, predatory grace, the dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to my dress.

"He's not my fiancé yet," she smiled, her teeth gleaming white in the moonlight. "But he will be by midnight. I just wanted to make sure you understood the terms of your severance."

"I don't want anything from him," I said, stepping to the side to bypass her.

"Good." She moved to block me again. Her eyes flashed with malice. "Because you were never a threat, Aminda. You were a placeholder. A warm body to keep him alive until I was ready to come back. Did you really think he could love someone like... you?"

She flicked her gaze up and down my simple dress, my sensible shoes, dismissing my entire existence with a single look.

"I'm leaving," I said, my patience snapping. "Get out of my way."

"Or what?" She laughed. "You'll hurt me?"

Suddenly, footsteps crunched on the gravel behind us.

"Charlie?" Colton's voice cut through the tension. "What are you doing out here?"

Charlie's face transformed instantly. The malice vanished, replaced by a look of wide-eyed fear.

"Colton!" she gasped. She took a step back, her heel catching on the edge of the stone path near the ornamental koi pond.

It was a performance. A bad one. But she flailed her arms, looking like a damsel in distress.

"Charlie!" Colton lunged forward.

She reached out, not for him, but for my arm. She grabbed my wrist, her nails digging in, and yanked me forward as she pretended to fall backward.

"Help me!" she screamed.

Colton didn't hesitate. He didn't assess. He reacted on instinct-an instinct to protect the thing he valued.

He reached for Charlie, wrapping an arm around her waist to anchor her.

And with his other hand, he shoved me.

It wasn't a gentle push. It was a hard, frantic heave to clear the space, to make sure his precious Charlie didn't get dragged down by the "help."

I stumbled back. My heel hit the wet grass.

I fell backward.

The back of my head cracked against the jagged edge of the decorative stonework lining the pond.

A blinding white light exploded behind my eyes.

Then, the cold shock of water.

I sank.

The water was freezing, filling my nose, my mouth. My head throbbed with a sickening, pulsating rhythm. I tried to kick, but my limbs felt heavy, disconnected.

Through the rippling surface of the water, I could see the distorted figures above.

Colton was clutching Charlie to his chest on the dry path. He was checking her face, stroking her hair, asking if she was okay.

He wasn't looking at the water. He wasn't looking for me.

I was drowning a few feet away from him, and he was comforting the woman who had pulled me down.

Darkness began to bleed into the edges of my vision. The cold seeped into my bones.

Let go, a voice whispered in my head. He pushed you. He chose.

Then, a splash.

Strong arms grabbed me. Not Colton's.

I broke the surface, gasping, coughing up water.

"I got you, Amy. I got you." Jayden's voice.

He dragged me onto the grass. Isaias was there too, already shucking off his jacket to wrap around my shivering shoulders.

"You're bleeding," Isaias hissed, touching the back of my head. His hand came away red.

I looked up.

Colton was standing ten feet away. He still had his arm around Charlie. He was looking at me now, his eyes wide, but he didn't move toward me. He stayed with her.

"Oh my god," Charlie sobbed, burying her face in Colton's chest. "She tried to pull me in, Colt! She tried to drown me!"

Colton looked at me. The protective rage in his eyes fractured into confusion. But there was no trust. No instinct to save me.

"Is that true?" he asked.

The question hit me harder than the rock had.

Jayden stood up, water dripping from his clothes, his face twisted in fury. "Are you insane, Colton? She's bleeding from her head!"

"She attacked Charlie," Colton said, his voice hardening. He was choosing his narrative. It was easier to believe I was the villain than to admit he had hurt me.

"I need to leave," I whispered. My teeth were chattering so hard I could barely speak. "Jayden, please. Get me out of here."

"We're going to the hospital," Jayden said, lifting me into his arms.

"No," I grabbed his wet lapel. "Airport. Please. Just get me away from him."

"Hospital first," Isaias commanded, glaring at Colton. "Then anywhere you want."

As Jayden carried me past Colton, I locked eyes with him one last time.

He reached a hand out, a stuttering, half-hearted motion. "Aminda..."

I closed my eyes. I let the darkness take me. I didn't want to see him ever again.