Chapter 2

I had to check into the hospital, which meant I needed to buy a few things.

As I walked into the boutique, I saw them. Pedro and his entire entourage.

Charlotte had come back in such a hurry that she hadn't packed enough clothes. Pedro had been on his way to dinner with friends, so the whole boisterous group had tagged along.

Pedro's friends had never liked me. They thought he had had a temporary lapse in judgment when he got with me, and they never bothered to hide their disdain.

Now, with Charlotte back, they were buzzing around her like a loyal court.

Sean Collins, Pedro's childhood friend, shot me a scowl.

"What are you doing here? Don't tell me you're here to start trouble. Charlotte doesn't know anything, so you better not make a scene."

Gavin Miles chimed in, "Seriously. Pedro worships the ground Charlotte walks on. If you do anything to upset her, he'll make you regret it."

They were watching me like I was a thief.

Just then, Pedro emerged from the dressing room area, having helped Charlotte. His face darkened the moment he saw me.

"Emma Shaw," he said sharply. "You promised you wouldn't be clingy."

The accusation hit me like a physical blow.

"I'm not," I retorted.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm just picking up some clothes."

Before he could reply, the shop owner spotted me, walking over.

"Emmy, dear! You're finally here! I've been waiting for you."

Her eyes darted between Pedro and me, but I pretended not to notice.

I followed her to the back to pick up the plush velour set I had ordered. The owner, a kind, no-nonsense woman, looked at me, her own eyes welling up.

"Emmy, what's wrong? Isn't that man out there your boyfriend?"

She remembered him from the few times he had come with me.

I forced a weak smile, replying, "No, we're just friends."

"Don't give me that. I remember your birthday last year. He came with you, and you were so happy you threw your arms around him right here in the shop."

I had. And I had gotten an earful for it on the way home.

He had told me he didn't like "needy" girlfriends and that I needed to learn some boundaries.

I took a breath, trying to steady myself.

"It's okay, really. We're in the past now. The woman he's with today... that's his fiancée."

I tried to shoo her away, persuading, "Please, don't worry about me. I don't want to get in the way of your business. I have to go."

She knew about my diagnosis, and she flatly refused to take my money.

I couldn't argue with her, so I just took the bag, thanking her over and over.

As I was about to leave, she pulled me into a hug, patting my back gently. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart. Just be strong," she whispered.

The sudden kindness almost broke me.

Just then, the fitting room door next to us opened. Charlotte stepped out in a slinky slip dress, looking down at us with an air of regal boredom.

Charlotte and I weren't exactly strangers.

In high school, she and I were constantly getting awards. I was always number one, and she was a top student. Sometimes we would go up on stage at the same time, and we would just nod at each other.

So having her look down her nose at me now felt particularly surreal.

"Oh, hey," I said, trying for casual. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," she said, barely even looking at me.

She was colder than I remembered.

She gave me a slow, insulting once-over before turning on her heel and walking away.

Pedro immediately went to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and planting a soft kiss on her temple.

His eyes held a tenderness I had never, ever seen before.

The shop owner sighed beside me, "Emmy, if you need to cry, just let it out. I won't judge."

I just scratched my head.

The problem was, I couldn't cry. My life was literally hanging by a thread, so I didn't have the luxury of pining over a boy.

I left the mall and went straight to the hospital. The doctor said I needed surgery first and then chemo. He asked if I had any family to support me.

That one stung.

The one person who was supposed to be my family had just fired himself from the position.

I just quietly told the doctor I had enough money to hire a private nurse and could sign my own consent forms.

Money talks. They upgraded me to a private room and assigned me a sweet nurse.

The first day after the surgery, a dull, throbbing pain radiated from my chest, but the ache in my heart was worse.

I scrolled through my phone and saw a picture of Pedro and Charlotte picking out wedding dresses. The pain in my chest sharpened.

I took a photo of the IV in my arm and, for once, let myself be dramatic. The caption read: [It doesn't hurt, Emma. You're fine.]

I refreshed my feed. The post was gone. I clicked on Charlotte's profile. She had blocked me.

"Perfect. Life is a joke, and I'm the punchline," I muttered.

The biopsy results came back. It wasn't good. The doctor said we had to start the first round of chemo immediately and warned me to prepare myself, because it was going to be rough.

I thought I was ready. But I wasn't. I spent a week puking my guts out. In a month, I slimmed down noticeably, and my spirits have been really low.

My nurse, bless her heart, would help me take walks in the hospital garden. One day, I saw a boy with his head wrapped in so many bandages that he looked like a cartoon character.

He was sitting on a bench, screaming into his phone.

"What? You and Dad went on another date? I'm injured, and you just abandoned me!

"My brother? My brother only cares about work! I don't even exist to him!

"You're all heartless! Leaving your poor, helpless, adorable son all alone while you gallivant around town! Is that normal? Is it?

"That's it! I'm done! I'm going to rebel! I'm entering my villain era! This is war!"

He slammed his phone down and angrily ripped a leaf off a nearby bush. Throwing it on the ground, he whipped his head around.

Our eyes met. A pair of big, wet, puppy-dog eyes blinked at me from an impossibly beautiful face. He was stunning, like a little deer.

As I stared, his cheeks slowly turned a shade of crimson.

After a long moment, he got up and scurried away.