Chapter 1
I had just finished my last round of dialysis when Alexander Ashford's mother walked into my hospital room and asked me to plan his wedding.
Not to me.
To someone else.
Victoria Ashford stood at the foot of my bed, clutching her Hermès bag like a shield, her eyes darting between my yellowed skin and the IV line still buried in the back of my hand.
"Sophia," she said, her voice tight with practiced sympathy, "I know this is a lot to ask. But you're the only one who knows Alexander's taste well enough to make this perfect."
She did not need to finish.
I already knew why she had really come.
It was the same reason she had come to me five years ago.
Back then, I had just woken from my third bone marrow extraction. My hip bones felt like they had been drilled hollow. I could barely breathe without something inside me grinding against itself.
Victoria had knelt beside my hospital bed that day, grabbed both my hands, and sobbed.
"Sophia, please. One more donation. Just one more. Ethan's body rejected the last transplant. If you don't do this, my baby will die."
Ethan was Alexander's younger brother.
And I had already given him my marrow twice.
The doctors had warned me after the second extraction. They said a third would likely trigger autoimmune failure. They said my body might never recover.
But Victoria had cried so hard. And Alexander was overseas on a surgical fellowship he had worked three years to earn. If he found out his brother had relapsed, he would abandon everything and fly home.
So Victoria had begged me.
"You love Alexander, don't you? Then protect his future. Give Ethan one more chance. I'll make sure Alexander knows what you sacrificed. I'll make sure he comes home and marries you the moment Ethan is stable."
I was twenty-two years old.
I loved Alexander so completely that his happiness felt more important than my own heartbeat.
So I signed the consent form.
I let them put me under for the third time.
I let them drill into my bones again.
And when I woke up five weeks later in a different hospital, alone, with no one beside me, I learned three things.
One: Ethan had survived.
Two: Victoria had told Alexander I stole three hundred thousand dollars from the family and disappeared with another man.
Three: Alexander never called. Not once.
Now, five years later, Victoria stood in front of me again.
Same hospital. Same pitiful face. Same impossible request.
But this time, my mother was in the room.
Mom set down the thermos of soup she had been warming and looked at Victoria with the kind of calm that comes right before an explosion.
"Get out," she said.
Victoria flinched but held her ground.
"Mrs. Langley, I understand your anger. But Alexander is coming home tomorrow with his fiancée. If Sophia could just—"
"I said get out."
My mother's hands were shaking.
I reached over and touched her wrist.
"Mom. It's okay."
Then I looked at Victoria.
"I'll do it," I said. "I'll help plan the wedding."
My mother turned to me with horror in her eyes.
But I only smiled at her the way I always did when I had already made up my mind and nothing in the world could change it.
Because the truth was simple.
The doctors had already told me I had three months left. Maybe less.
And in whatever time remained, I wanted to see Alexander one more time.
Even if he hated me.
Even if he looked at me like I was nothing.
I wanted to be near him at the end.
Not to me.
To someone else.
Victoria Ashford stood at the foot of my bed, clutching her Hermès bag like a shield, her eyes darting between my yellowed skin and the IV line still buried in the back of my hand.
"Sophia," she said, her voice tight with practiced sympathy, "I know this is a lot to ask. But you're the only one who knows Alexander's taste well enough to make this perfect."
She did not need to finish.
I already knew why she had really come.
It was the same reason she had come to me five years ago.
Back then, I had just woken from my third bone marrow extraction. My hip bones felt like they had been drilled hollow. I could barely breathe without something inside me grinding against itself.
Victoria had knelt beside my hospital bed that day, grabbed both my hands, and sobbed.
"Sophia, please. One more donation. Just one more. Ethan's body rejected the last transplant. If you don't do this, my baby will die."
Ethan was Alexander's younger brother.
And I had already given him my marrow twice.
The doctors had warned me after the second extraction. They said a third would likely trigger autoimmune failure. They said my body might never recover.
But Victoria had cried so hard. And Alexander was overseas on a surgical fellowship he had worked three years to earn. If he found out his brother had relapsed, he would abandon everything and fly home.
So Victoria had begged me.
"You love Alexander, don't you? Then protect his future. Give Ethan one more chance. I'll make sure Alexander knows what you sacrificed. I'll make sure he comes home and marries you the moment Ethan is stable."
I was twenty-two years old.
I loved Alexander so completely that his happiness felt more important than my own heartbeat.
So I signed the consent form.
I let them put me under for the third time.
I let them drill into my bones again.
And when I woke up five weeks later in a different hospital, alone, with no one beside me, I learned three things.
One: Ethan had survived.
Two: Victoria had told Alexander I stole three hundred thousand dollars from the family and disappeared with another man.
Three: Alexander never called. Not once.
Now, five years later, Victoria stood in front of me again.
Same hospital. Same pitiful face. Same impossible request.
But this time, my mother was in the room.
Mom set down the thermos of soup she had been warming and looked at Victoria with the kind of calm that comes right before an explosion.
"Get out," she said.
Victoria flinched but held her ground.
"Mrs. Langley, I understand your anger. But Alexander is coming home tomorrow with his fiancée. If Sophia could just—"
"I said get out."
My mother's hands were shaking.
I reached over and touched her wrist.
"Mom. It's okay."
Then I looked at Victoria.
"I'll do it," I said. "I'll help plan the wedding."
My mother turned to me with horror in her eyes.
But I only smiled at her the way I always did when I had already made up my mind and nothing in the world could change it.
Because the truth was simple.
The doctors had already told me I had three months left. Maybe less.
And in whatever time remained, I wanted to see Alexander one more time.
Even if he hated me.
Even if he looked at me like I was nothing.
I wanted to be near him at the end.