Chapter 1
I lay on the operating table, about to donate a kidney to my husband's true love.
The anesthesiologist leaned down and asked, "Do we need to wait for a family member to sign off on this?"
I smiled. "No need."
Just then, my phone screen lit up. It was a notification for a selfie of my husband and his true love at a prenatal clinic.
The caption read: [He says the baby's heartbeat sounds just like his promise: steady and strong.]
As the anesthetic flowed into my veins, I started humming the Wedding March, the music I'd played at our wedding.
The surgeon glanced at me in surprise.
"Sorry," I said with a smile. "My mind wandered."
When my husband came to the hospital room for the first time after the surgery, I pulled out the pain pump right in front of him.
He cursed, saying I'd gone crazy.
I nodded calmly. "Yeah, I'd gone crazy when I married you three years ago."
*****
As the scalpel touched my skin, I could hear my own heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was so steady.
Just like the rhythm in my chest the day Stefan Clifford put the ring on my finger at our wedding five years ago.
The nurse whispered, "Ms. Landers, relax."
I smiled.
How could I possibly relax? I was giving up a piece of myself to keep another woman alive.
The anesthesiologist leaned in and asked, "Do you need to wait for a family member to sign?"
"No need," I said. "He's busy."
I'd been saying that for five years to my parents, my friends, and even when I was alone.
Stefan was always busy.
He was the CEO of Clifford Group, and his time was precious. The fact that he managed to squeeze in a wedding with me almost felt like a miracle.
The anesthesia started to flow into my veins.
A cold sensation crept up my arm.
I turned my head and saw my phone, sitting on a cabinet, light up.
My phone buzzed with a new notification.
Rachel Lovett had updated her feed.
The photo showed a man's hand gently resting on a pregnant belly. His fingers were long, and on his ring finger was the same wedding band I wore.
The caption read: [He says the baby's heartbeat sounds just like his promise: steady and strong.]
It was posted ten minutes ago from the VIP prenatal center at Mercyview Hospital.
I couldn't take my eyes off that photo.
I stared so long that the lead surgeon finally couldn't help but prompt me, "Ms. Landers, we're ready to start."
"Okay," I said.
Then I began to hum the "Wedding March".
The doctor and nurses paused, looking at me, surprised.
"Sorry, my mind wandered," I said with a smile. "Go ahead."
Right before the anesthesia fully kicked in, my last thought was: 'I bet Stefan's hands are warm right now.
'Just like they were when he held mine and walked me down the aisle on our wedding day.'
*****
Three hours after the surgery, Stefan came.
His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. The faint scent of disinfectant lingered on him, mixed with an overly sweet perfume.
That was Rachel's favorite perfume.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, standing at my bedside, looking down at me.
There was no emotion in his voice.
It was like he was checking if a report had been printed.
I slowly propped myself up and reached for the tube of the pain pump.
Then I yanked it out, hard.
As soon as the line was ripped out, a stabbing pain shot through my wound. I stifled a groan, sweat instantly beading on my forehead.
"What the hell are you doing?" Stefan snapped, grabbing my shoulder.
"Pain is the only way to remember," I said, looking up at him with a faint smile. "Isn't that what you always say, Mr. Clifford?"
Stefan's brows knitted tightly. "Nancy Landers, are you out of your mind?"
"Yeah." I nodded, grinning even wider. "I went crazy the day I signed that contract five years ago."
He let go of me as if scalded.
An awkward silence spread through the hospital room.
The only sound was the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
"About Rachel's baby..." Stefan finally spoke.
"It needs my kidney, right?" I cut him off, saying it for him.
He didn't deny it.
"Then take it," I said, lying back on the pillow and closing my eyes. "It's not like it's doing me any good anyway."
As if keeping it would ever make him love me.
*****
The day I was discharged from the hospital, my mother passed away.
It was a heart attack. Mom died quickly without any suffering.
Relatives crowded the funeral hall, their eyes red from crying. When they saw me arrive alone, they shared knowing looks.
"Where's Stefan?" my aunt asked, taking my hand.
"He's on a business trip," I replied, spinning the lie with practiced ease. "There's an important project overseas, and he really can't leave."
Right after I said that, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from his assistant.
It wrote: [Mr. Clifford wanted me to tell you to take care. He'll be back as soon as he's done with his urgent business.]
There was a photo attached.
The picture was taken at an outdoor hot spring in Oriaburg. Stefan was lounging in a bathrobe, Rachel nestled against his shoulder. They had wine and steak laid out in front of them.