Chapter 3

After Lily was discharged, I went back to my corner and set up the sandwich food cart.

I had to keep making money.

Enough money to pay for her treatments.

My stump throbbed, a sharp, venomous pain biting down on my nerves. My hand shook as I gripped the knife, but I kept forcing a smile for every customer.

"Would you like lettuce with that, or crispy onions?"

By the end of the day, the soft liner inside my prosthetic socket was soaked in blood.

I weighed the day's meager earnings in my hand and managed a smile anyway.

After closing up, I started the walk home.

But I hadn't gone more than a few steps when a searing pain shot through my stump. My leg gave out, and I nearly collapsed.

Instead of hitting the pavement, I crashed into a cold, hard chest.

"Evelyn. I really underestimated you."

A voice thick with alcohol and barely suppressed rage crashed down on me.

I froze, looking up into Callum's furious, bloodshot eyes.

"Five years ago, deployment was too hard, so you bailed overnight."

"Now you know I'm back, and you're throwing yourself at me in the street?"

"Do you honestly think I'd still want you looking like this?"

I hurriedly took a step back and plastered on a bright, polite smile.

"You've got it all wrong, Callum."

"Someone like me isn't even on your radar. I wouldn't dare have any ideas about you."

"I have things to do at home. Excuse me."

I turned to leave, but my old prosthetic slipped on the wet pavement, and I nearly went down again.

Callum grabbed me roughly.

His eyes were red, his voice dark.

"Still playing games?"

"Keep this up and you're going to get hurt. Don't expect me to clean up the mess."

I pressed my hand against the suspension strap of my prosthetic, which was dangerously close to slipping off. My face was pale, but the smile remained glued to my lips.

"You're overthinking it."

"I have an emergency at home. Please let me go."

I was terrified he would see my right leg.

Terrified he would realize that the girl he once loved so deeply had been ground into something unrecognizable by fate.

I tried to pull away, but his grip on my wrist only tightened.

He stared at me, his expression darkening by the second.

"Your smile makes me sick."

"Your arms are nothing but bone, yet you're drowning in these massive trousers."

"Even this pathetic look is an act, isn't it? What exactly are you hiding under there?"

As he spoke, he reached down, about to tear away the fabric covering the socket of my prosthetic.

My face drained of color, and I struggled in pure panic.

Just then, a light, feminine laugh rang out, giving me the chance to wrench my hand free.

A young woman jogged over and looped her arm through Callum's.

"Callum, Graham and I have been looking everywhere. What are you doing here?"

She was radiant and beautiful, her eyes clear as glass.

When she noticed me, she tilted her chin up slightly. Her gaze swept over me, and her lips curled into a mocking smirk.

"So you're Evelyn?"

"They said you were standing around taking up space. Guess they weren't exaggerating."

"I'm Clara."

She leaned into Callum, her smile blindingly bright.

"I really should thank you for dumping him. Otherwise, how would I have met someone like him?"

"If he'd actually married you, everyone knows what the media and his donors would have done to that marriage."

I froze for a second.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side, I forced my lips to curve upward.

"Yes."

"I certainly can't compare to you, Miss Clara. A beautiful, carefree girl like you is much better suited to stand beside him."

I could hear the malice in her words.

But I also genuinely believed she was a better fit for him.

She was vibrant, bright, glowing with life.

For some reason, Callum's eyes suddenly darkened.

Clara scoffed and leaned even closer to him.

"That's a fact. I don't need you to remind me."

"I'm hungry. I heard you sell sandwiches. Make me one."

Graham, standing nearby, chuckled.

"Let her show off, Callum. Wasn't she just bragging about her food cart at the wedding?"

I didn't answer.

My residual limb was throbbing in waves, like a knife slicing through flesh.

I simply didn't have the strength to make another sandwich.

But Callum spoke up.

His gaze was ice-cold.

"Didn't you hear her? My fiancée wants your food."

Sweat was already beading on my forehead, and my lips were trembling.

I forced a smile. "How about tomorrow? I'll treat you all tomorrow, okay?"

Callum looked at my pale face and sneered.

"What?"

"Am I not important enough for you to serve today?"

My nails dug into my palms.

I heard my own hoarse voice reply.

"Fine."

"I'll make it."

Standing in front of the grill, cold sweat dripped from my face.

The agony in my stump was so intense I could barely stand. I had to lean my elbows heavily against the counter, struggling through every motion to assemble the sandwich.

Callum's cold voice drifted into my ears.

"Why are you playing the victim?"

"You weren't this fragile when you walked out on me."

I didn't answer.

With every movement, it felt like my flesh was being ripped open all over again.

Finally, a signature sandwich was done.

I picked up the tray, took slow, agonizing steps toward them, and set it down.

"Enjoy, Miss Clara."

Then I turned, limped back to the food truck, and collapsed onto a stone bench.

Clara suddenly gasped.

"Oh my god... what's wrong with your leg?"

My breath hitched.

The right leg of my trousers had collapsed.

The old, ill-fitting prosthetic that had been keeping me upright lay crooked on the pavement, soaked in blood.

The next second, a wave of weightlessness and excruciating pain hit me all at once.

In the last moment before I lost consciousness, I saw Callum's face, pale with absolute horror.

He lunged toward me, his voice shattering.

"Evelyn—where is your leg?!"