Chapter 1
The day my dad goes in for surgery marks day two of the cold war between Ryan Brooks and me.
When Ryan finds out, he offers to drive me to the hospital. I'm desperate to get to my father, so I swallow my pride and get in the car.
Halfway there, he pulls over on some random roadside and tells me to get out because Emily Carter, his precious childhood sweetheart, needs him more.
Silently, I just text him a single digit: [1].
He doesn't reply. Of course he doesn't. He never does.
I'm used to it. Honestly, I stop expecting anything else.
Later, a photo of Emily and Ryan pops up on my feed.
Around her neck hangs a delicate rose necklace.
I recognize it instantly. I saw the sketches in Ryan's study. I've actually been foolish enough to think he designed it for me.
But it was on her.
The old me would have lost her mind. I would have screamed and cried and demanded answers.
But this time, I simply take a screenshot, repost it to my timeline, and caption it: [Let me know when the wedding is. Don't forget my invite.]
*****
On Saturday, I got a call from my uncle. My dad's condition had taken a turn for the worse, so they moved his surgery up. It was happening now.
Panic seized me. My first instinct was to call my boyfriend, Ryan Brooks, but I hung up after two rings.
We were in the middle of a cold war, and true to form, he would probably use this as an opportunity to lecture me. I didn't have time for that.
But the second I disconnected, he called right back.
His familiarly cool voice came through the line. "What is it?"
I took a shaky breath. "My dad's surgery was moved up. I have to go to the hospital. You might not be able to reach me for a few days."
There was a pause. Then, his voice softened. "Stay put. I'll come get you."
"You don't have to..."
Before I could refuse, I heard the dial tone.
I let out a sigh and scrambled to pack a bag.
I wasn't waiting long before his car pulled up to the curb.
As usual, I reached for the back door.
"Sit up front today," Ryan said, staring straight ahead. "Emily's not here."
He was talking about Emily Carter, his childhood sweetheart.
He would do anything for her. She had staked her claim on the passenger seat, and he, ever the loyal puppy, had made it her exclusive throne. No one else was allowed to sit there.
Once, I had challenged that unspoken rule and jumped into the front seat right in front of her.
Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and she stormed off. Ryan chased after her, murmuring comforts, but she just sobbed that he was a liar who never kept his promises.
The same Ryan who was all gentle words with Emily then roughly dragged me out of the car.
"Emily has depression, Sophia," he'd said. "Just let her have the seat."
I lost count of how many times I had heard that line.
Every time Emily wanted something that was mine, Ryan would give it to her and serve me that same excuse.
At first, I didn't have the energy to fight. I just gave in.
Then came our three-year anniversary. I took the day off, planned a special dinner, and bought the perfect gift.
I'm not usually big on grand gestures, but a friend had let it slip that Ryan was planning to propose.
Somehow, Emily found out, too.
So, just as Ryan was pulling out the small velvet box, before he even had a chance to open it, his phone rang.
Her voice was so loud that I could hear every word, even though it wasn't on speaker.
She was wailing. "Ryan, does anyone even like me? I just feel so horrible right now.
"Ryan, where are you? My head is spinning. The wind up on the roof is so strong."
I can't even describe the look of pure panic on Ryan's face. He dropped the ring box on the table without a second thought and bolted out the door.
I stared at the abandoned box. It looked as pathetic and lonely as I felt.
A thought, quiet and tired, whispered in my mind, "Maybe it's time to just let this go."
That night, Emily sent me a photo.
It was of her and Ryan, asleep on a couch. His arm wrapped protectively around her as he held her hand.
The text that came with it was just as pointed.
Emily: [All I have to do is mention dying, and he drops everything. Sophia Bennett, don't you get it yet? You're just an inconvenient third wheel.]
That was the moment I finally knew her so-called depression was all fake. She was just crazy about Ryan.
Some people just don't know how to read the room.
Snapping back to the present, I forced a faint smile. "It's fine. If Emily found out, she'd just get upset again."
Ryan pressed his lips together and replied, "She won't know."
I didn't move from the back.
His brow furrowed. He pulled the keys from the ignition, his voice turning cold. "Sophia, I can't believe you're picking a fight with me right now. Do you want to see your father or not?"
I was silent for three seconds. Then I got out and moved to the front.
It was rush hour and pouring rain. Getting an Uber would be impossible. He was right. The only thing that mattered was getting to my dad.
My uncle had said he was in critical condition. Every second counted.