Chapter 4

On the tenth day of Leonard's hospitalization, Vivian brought him some chicken soup in a thermos. She wore a white dress, her arm still in a sling, looking incredibly fragile.

Even the nurses couldn't help taking a second look.

She sat down by the bed and said softly, "Leonard, my mom made this soup. Try some."

Leonard's tone was gentle at first. "Your arm's still not better. You shouldn't keep coming here," he said.

Vivian lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I don't come see you, I just feel awful."

That was a sweet thing to say. But taking care of a patient isn't just about saying the right words.

Leonard needed help turning over, getting cleaned up, and even with the most basic things like using the bathroom. He hated this the most.

He used to be a gym regular, always dressed in crisp shirts, wearing cologne, and keeping himself put-together. Now, he couldn't even hold on to the slightest bit of dignity.

That afternoon, the caregiver stepped out to get some medicine. It was just me, Leonard, and Vivian left in the room.

Vivian was showing him some old photos on her phone. In one, Leonard stood on a mountaintop in a windbreaker, Vivian leaning against his shoulder. The two of them were grinning from ear to ear.

"Leonard, look at this one. You said you'd take me to see the snow-capped mountains next time," Vivian said.

Leonard stared at the photo, his gaze darkening. I sat nearby, peeling an apple without saying a word.

After a while, his expression suddenly shifted. He tried to push himself up, but his core was too weak.

He gritted his teeth and shot me a look, but I pretended not to notice.

Vivian was still talking. "When you're better, we'll go again, okay?"

The air slowly filled with a strange smell, and Vivian's voice cut off. She instinctively took a half-step back, then quickly caught herself.

But Leonard saw it.

His face flushed red, then went pale. "Get out," he said.

Vivian panicked. "Leonard, I didn't mean to," she stammered.

"I said get out." Leonard snapped, grabbing the bowl of soup from the bedside table and hurling it at her.

The soup splattered all over Vivian, and the bowl shattered on the floor.

Vivian was so scared she burst into tears. "I really wasn't grossed out by you," she sobbed.

Leonard closed his eyes, his chest heaving with rage and shame. "Get out," he snapped again.

I quickly grabbed Vivian's arm. "Vivian, you should leave for now. He's really upset," I said.

Out in the hallway, Vivian cried so hard her shoulders shook. "Susan, I really didn't mean to. I just got scared, that's all," she said.

I handed her a tissue. "I know," I said.

In my previous life, I had lost count of how many times I'd insisted it was an accident. I hadn't meant to make Vivian fall, and I hadn't meant to destroy the woman Leonard cherished most.

But no one believed me.

Vivian wiped her tears and suddenly asked, "Susan, will Leonard always be like this?"

I looked at her. There was worry in her eyes, but even more fear. She was afraid Leonard would never recover, afraid that the man who'd risked his life for her would end up as an inescapable burden.

I said softly, "The doctor said it'll take a long time for him to recover. Vivian, he ended up like this because of you. If you spend more time with him, it'll help him feel better."

Vivian's face went a little paler. "Of course I'll be there for him," she said. She said it quickly, but she didn't sound sure of herself.

That evening, Diane came by. When she heard what had happened earlier, her face turned grim. She didn't bother comforting Vivian. Instead, she turned to the caregiver. "Don't leave the room for too long from now on."

Vivian stood off to the side, looking completely lost. Diane used to take her hand and say, "You're just too kind."

But now she wouldn't even look at her anymore. Every time she saw Vivian, she couldn't help remembering how Leonard had ended up like this.

A few days later, Leonard started his rehab. He was sweating buckets from the pain, and his temper kept getting worse.

If a nurse so much as touched his leg, he'd lash out. If the caregiver tried to help, he'd yell at them, too.

When Diane started crying next to him, it made him even angrier.

"Why are you crying? I'm not dead yet!" he snapped. Diane was so startled by his outburst that she didn't dare make a sound.

Only when Vivian came by would he grit his teeth and try to hold it together. He still wanted to keep the last bit of his male pride in front of her. But that pride was paper-thin.

During one rehab session, the doctor told him to try standing with the equipment for support. He couldn't even last three seconds before falling heavily back into his wheelchair.

Vivian was standing in the doorway. She didn't have time to hide the shock and pity in her eyes.

Leonard caught the look. He asked quietly, "Do you think I'm pathetic?"

Vivian quickly shook her head. "No, Leonard, I just feel for you," she said.

Leonard let out a bitter laugh. "Feel for me?" He threw his towel to the floor. "Why don't you marry me, then?"

The whole rehab room went dead silent. Vivian just stood there, frozen.

I stood just outside the door and almost burst out laughing. This was just the beginning. The real show was about to start.