1 The day my boyfriend almost died, I found his final wishes. Two hundred and fourteen letters, to be exact. The dates spanned six years, but the beneficiary remained hauntingly consistent. They weren’t for me. They were for his first love. I stood in that sterile hospital corridor, my blood turning to ice. I couldn’t even scream at him; he was lying in the ICU, a mess of tubes and wires, still lost in a coma. “Mr. Whitaker has a thing for extreme sports—the more dangerous, the better,” his assistant, Ben, explained softly, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “He made it a habit to write a ‘just in case’ letter before every trip. It was his ritual.” I stared at the stack of envelopes in my trembling hands. “But only the last one went through a lawyer, right?” Ben didn’t need to answer. I already knew the truth. “Still nothing for me, I assume?” The room fell silent, save for the rhythmic, agonizing beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor. We had been together for six years. Every time Harrison Whitaker vanished for a month to scale a mountain or dive into an abyss, I spent my nights paralyzed by the fear of losing him. And all that time, while I was praying for his safety, he was meticulously building a safety net for another woman. If that was the case, why was I still wasting my tears on him? … Harrison lay there, his face as pale as the sheets. I had discovered his betrayal, yet I couldn’t get a single word of explanation from him. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a lead weight. The door swung open, and Harrison’s mother, Eleanor, rushed in, her designer heels clicking sharply against the linoleum. Her eyes reddened the moment she saw him. “Mrs. Whitaker…” I started. Crack. The slap was so sudden and so hard it sent my head snapping to the side. A sharp, stinging heat bloomed across my cheek. “You gave me your word,” Eleanor hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “You promised you’d look after him! How could you let him do something so reckless?” I kept my face turned away, the faint metallic taste of blood rising in my mouth. “Harrison is a grown man, Eleanor. He makes his own choices. I never had a say in his life.” “Don’t you dare give me those excuses!” She stepped closer, her finger jabbing painfully into my sternum. “When Harrison was with her, he never felt the need to go looking for death. You’re a curse on him. You’re nothing but bad luck.” I swallowed the blood and forced a jagged, hollow laugh. “Fine. If I’m the problem, I’ll leave. We’re over. Does that satisfy you?” “Are you threatening me with a breakup now?” she shrieked. “Mom…” A weak, raspy voice broke through the tension. Harrison’s eyes were barely open, just a sliver of blue showing through the haze of medication. “Don’t… don’t blame Audrey. It’s not her fault.” He wheezed, trying to shift his weight. Ben rushed forward to adjust his pillows. “Don’t be hard on her.” “Oh, she’s certainly clever, isn’t she?” Eleanor scoffed, grabbing her Chanel bag. “If you actually marry this girl, I suppose I’ll lose my son entirely.” She slammed the door on her way out. A tear finally escaped and hit the floor with a soft thud. Harrison reached out a trembling hand, his fingers clumsily brushing the moisture from my cheek. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” His voice was as gentle as it had been on the day we met. “I let her treat you like that. It won’t happen again, okay?” “The letters, Harrison,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “What were they about?” He glanced at Ben, his expression flickering with a brief moment of calculation before he turned back to me with a tired smile. “I’m alive, Audrey. The letters don’t matter now. You should be happy they weren’t needed.” “Stop moving the goalposts. I don’t care about your money. I don’t want a dime of your estate. But you owe me the truth. Why is there a third person in our relationship? Why has there always been a third person?” The monitor continued its steady, indifferent ticking. A nurse pushed the door open, pressing a finger to her lips. “Please, keep it down. We have other patients recovering.” Harrison remained perfectly calm. I was the one who looked like a madwoman. “If we’re being honest, Audrey,” he said, his breath fogging the oxygen mask, “you’re the outsider here.” He smiled. It was a thin, ghostly thing. It struck me then that I had never really known the man lying in that bed. “Why do you care about the past? In the end, you’re the one I’m marrying.” My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. “I’m the outsider? Me?” I pushed my hair back, revealing the faint, jagged scar near my hairline. “When I heard you’d crashed, I fell down the stairs in my rush to get to the hospital. I didn’t even stop to get stitches. All I could think about was seeing you one last time.” A flash of genuine pain crossed Harrison’s eyes. He tried to speak, but a violent coughing fit seized him, and a spray of blood flecked the inside of his mask. “Sir!” Ben cried out, but Harrison caught his wrist. “I’m fine,” Harrison gasped. “Ben, take Audrey to get her head looked at.” He turned back to me, his grip on my hand weak but desperate. “Forget about the letters. Bella… she’s alone in the world. She has no one. She saved my life once during a climb. I just wanted to make sure she was taken care of. It was a debt of honor, nothing more.” “Was it just a debt?” He nodded, the movement so slight it was almost imperceptible. “Liar,” I whispered. I picked up one of the letters from the bedside table. “You asked to be buried next to her. Is that just ‘helping’ her, too?” “Audrey—” “What am I to you, Harrison? A placeholder? A trophy? I’m done. I’m not standing in the way of your grand, tragic romance anymore. We’re finished.” “Audrey Montgomery!” He used every ounce of his remaining strength to shout my name. I didn’t look back. I grabbed the door handle and stepped out. The moment the door clicked shut, the adrenaline evaporated. My legs gave out, and I slid down the hallway wall, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I tried to unlock my phone. My fingers fumbled over the passcode I knew by heart. Finally, the screen flickered to life. Dear Ms. Montgomery, please confirm your itinerary. Your flight is scheduled to depart tomorrow at midnight. “Miss Montgomery, the floor is cold.” Ben was standing over me, his hand extended. I took it, my movements mechanical. “Isabella—Bella—is a special case,” Ben said as he helped me up. “She saved his life during a mountain biking accident years ago. That’s how they met. But she’s terminal. She’s dying, Audrey. Harrison made a pact with her—to see the world for her, since she can’t.” I leaned against the cold tile wall, feeling a chill that no sweater could touch. “Right. That’s what you all say. And I’m just the petty girlfriend who doesn’t understand ‘honor’.” I pulled my hand away and began to shuffle down the hall. Harrison’s heart was like these walls—impenetrable and cold. I couldn’t warm it, no matter how hard I tried. I don’t remember the drive home. I spent hours staring at the ceiling of our penthouse, numb. Then, my phone buzzed. Are you home? Are you still angry? I could picture him sending that—composed, emotionless, perfectly reasonable. No, I replied. I ordered some flowers. They should be at the door. Make sure you take them in. Why the flowers, Harrison? Because you like them. The doorbell rang at that exact moment. A massive bouquet of ninety-nine roses sat on the mat. I didn’t touch them. Another text rolled in. Did you get them? I closed the door. Of all the flowers in the world, I hated these specific roses the most. They reminded me of my stepmother. On the day of my mother’s funeral, she had filled our house with them, a silent, fragrant declaration of her victory. Put them in a vase and send me a photo. A wide shot of the room. Do it now. I felt a surge of annoyance, but I complied. I snapped a quick photo of the corner of the living room and sent it. The chat went silent. It didn’t feel like he was comforting me; it felt like he was checking a box. I never spent much time on social media, but for some reason, I felt a pull toward Instagram. I saw a red notification dot. I clicked. The top post was a photo of my own living room. Actually, it was the exact photo I had just sent Harrison. But it wasn’t posted by Harrison. It was posted by the girl I had been anonymously sponsoring for six years—a girl who had developed a congenital heart condition after a severe fever. I had funded her treatments, her housing, her life. I had been her secret benefactor for over half a decade. And I had just realized I was sponsoring my boyfriend’s the one who got away. The caption was simple: I finally have a home. There was a second photo in the post—an architectural blueprint. It was a hand-drawn design of my house. My sanctuary. I felt a wave of nausea so strong I had to run to the bathroom. I leaned over the sink, dry-heaving, but my thumb kept scrolling of its own accord. I finally understood their “pact.” Bella’s birthday was February 14th. That was why there were 214 letters. That was why Harrison went on 214 trips “to see the world” for her. To make her feel like she was there, he had her name tattooed over his heart. In every photo from his travels, he was holding a picture of her. I had never seen a single one of those travel photos, yet they were all over her private feed. They had loved each other with a burning, desperate intensity. Even their separation was a performance of tragic devotion. During all those weeks when Harrison was “off the grid” and unreachable to me, he was checking in with her every single day. My brain went white. I had one singular, driving impulse. I had to see Isabella. But when I arrived at the high-end hospice care facility in the Hudson Valley, the first thing I saw was Harrison’s car. He had just woken up from a coma, and he had literally crawled out of his hospital bed to see her. Under the shade of an old oak tree, Harrison sat in a wheelchair. Bella was perched on the grass, her head resting on his knees, her shoulders shaking with heartbreaking sobs. I stood in the distance, watching. I really was the outsider. Harrison was looking at her with a tenderness I had never once received in six years. “Shh, don’t cry. I’m okay, see? I promised I’d come back, and I did.” I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. I saw him hesitate. He signaled for Bella to be quiet before he answered. “What is it, Audrey?” “Do you remember promising me that when you got back, we’d go look at wedding venues?” I asked, my voice steady despite the fact that I was watching him lie to me in real-time. “I’m in the hospital on an IV drip, Audrey. How am I supposed to go venue hunting?” “Right. Of course.” “Look, as soon as I’m discharged, we’ll go. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” “Don’t bother.” He stiffened. “What do you mean, don’t bother?” “It’s not necessary anymore,” I said. My hand was shaking so hard the phone nearly slipped. “I’m not marrying you, Harrison.” I hung up. Harrison’s head snapped around, and his eyes locked onto me. His face went from calm to panicked in a heartbeat. “Audrey! What are you doing here?” He frantically began to turn his wheelchair toward me. Bella looked up, startled. When she saw me, a bright, innocent smile lit up her face. “Audrey! You’re here!” She looked so fragile, so lovely. She made me feel like the villain in my own life. “Do you two know each other?” Harrison asked, looking between us, his voice trembling. “We’re friends,” I said coldly. “Is that all we are? Just friends?” Harrison hissed at me, pulling out his phone to type a quick message: [She can’t handle stress. She thinks you’re just my assistant. Why are you being like this?] I smiled at him. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce us properly, Harrison?” “Harrison,” Bella said, sounding confused. “I should introduce you. This is the woman who has been sponsoring my care for six years. My angel.” Harrison’s face went paper-white. He reached out, grabbing my sleeve. [Please, don’t tell her about us. Not yet.] “Of course,” I said aloud. Harrison exhaled, a look of profound relief washing over him. “After all,” I continued, “we’ve broken up. We’re practically strangers now.” “Audrey, stop talking nonsense!” Harrison snapped, abandoning the text messages. He was angry now, his pride wounded. He pushed his wheelchair away, turning his back on me. “Audrey,” Bella whispered, her eyes fixed on Harrison’s retreating form. “I never told you… he was my first love. My only love.” “I know.” “When I got sick, I ended it. I didn’t want to be a burden. But sometimes I wish… I wish I was the one standing next to him. Why did it have to be me? Why couldn’t it have been his current girlfriend who got sick? Why am I the one dying?” I looked at her, a swirl of complex emotions churning in my gut. “And what if I am his ‘current girlfriend’?” Bella’s body went rigid. She turned to look at me. One second. Two. The realization hit her like a physical blow. She covered her mouth with her hand and fled toward the building, stumbling in her haste to get away from me. I stood there alone until the facility director walked up to me. “Ms. Montgomery, good to see you. How much should we bill to your card for Bella’s next quarter?” I stared at the wheelchair tracks in the grass. I took a deep breath. “I won’t be sponsoring her anymore.” The director blinked. “I’m sorry?” “I’m moving abroad. My expenses are increasing, and I can no longer carry the cost of a private patient.” The director nodded understandingly. She walked me to my car. “Well, I wish you the best of luck. We heard you were getting married—we were actually planning to send a gift. You’ve been so generous over the years.” “The wedding is canceled.” Saying it out loud didn’t hurt anymore. It felt like stating a weather report. The director paused, looking at me with genuine kindness. “Then I wish you a life where you find someone who loves you as much as you’ve given to others.” “Thank you.” I opened my car door. “Bella ran off toward the east wing. You might want to send someone to find her. She’s upset.” I had driven a few miles when a familiar car swerved in front of me, forcing me to the shoulder. Harrison climbed out of the passenger side, leaning heavily on his crutches. “What did you say to her?” he roared. “What could I possibly say that would be worse than the truth?” He swung his hand. The slap was clumsy, fueled by desperation rather than strength, but it still burned. “She was so upset she walked right into a service cart! She’s bruised and hysterical!” “And you’re hitting me? Again?” I pointed at my own face. “We were together for six years, Harrison. How could you ever think this was okay?” Harrison’s hand began to shake. He seemed to snap out of it, reaching out to pull me into a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m just… I’m losing it. Please, don’t hate me. I didn’t mean it.” I looked at his surgical bandages and dug my nails into them. He winced, his face contorting in pain, but he didn’t push me away. “Just let it out,” he whispered, stroking the back of my neck. “I have to go check on her, but once she’s stable, I’m done. I won’t see her again, I promise.” “Can’t you just stay? For once, can’t I be the priority? I don’t even know who you love anymore.” He let go of my arms. “It’s different, Audrey. Don’t be difficult. You’re the one I’m going to marry. You’re my wife.” “And if she hadn’t broken up with you all those years ago? Would I even exist to you?” Harrison didn’t answer. He got back into his car and drove away, leaving nothing but a cloud of exhaust. I instinctively reached for my neck, but it was empty. The gold locket—the one Harrison had commissioned for me when I was sick with pneumonia years ago—was gone. He had stayed by my side for weeks then, moving his entire office into my bedroom. It’s just a cold, Harrison, I had joked. I just want you safe, he had replied, holding me tight. Seeing you hurt is worse than death. When I finally made it back to the hospital to look for him, I found him in Bella’s room. He was carefully placing a necklace around her neck. My necklace. “We can’t do this,” Bella was sobbing. “Audrey is my benefactor. I can’t break her heart.” Harrison pulled her into his chest. “You’re too good for this world, Bella. You need to think about yourself for once.” Bella didn’t answer. Harrison stroked her hair. “I’ve transferred the deed of the penthouse to your name. I’ve already had the interior redone exactly the way you like it. I’ll take Audrey and move away. You’ll never have to see us again.” They clung to each other in the dim light of the hospital room. I was the interloper. Harrison claimed to love me, yet he was giving away our home without even telling me. “Since this is the last time we’ll be together like this,” Bella whispered, “can we take a photo? A formal one, with a red backdrop? I want to pretend, just for a second, that I was the one who got to marry you.” “Do you want to wear a wedding dress?” Harrison’s voice was full of longing. “Could I? But… it’s so late. The shops are closed.” “Audrey already brought her dress home,” Harrison said. “If you don’t mind, you can wear hers. As long as she never finds out, it doesn’t matter.” He stood up and grabbed his keys. I ducked into an alcove, watching him walk toward the exit. I turned and walked in the opposite direction. On my way to the airport, I called my housekeeper. “Maria, I need you to pack up my wedding dress. Put it in its box and leave a note on top of it. I’ve already wired your severance pay. You don’t need to come in tomorrow.” Maria knew everything. She didn’t ask questions. Ten minutes later, she sent me a photo of the box sitting on the entryway table. When Harrison got home, the dress was waiting for him. The note was resting on the lid. The penthouse was silent and empty. His heart hammered against his ribs. He walked forward, and as he read the words I had left behind, his world finally began to crumble.
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