Chapter 4My Girlfriend Broke My Hands to Help Her Childhood Crush Win

The sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant filled the hospital room, stinging my nose.

I frowned, glancing at the clock.

By now, the New Haven Philharmonic Orchestra auditions had ended.

The nurses outside were chattering.

“Did you hear? Maestro Fletcher Scott picked Ashton Hale for the orchestra!”

“Yeah, I saw the news. Ashton’s amazing—and he’s dating Sienna Hartwell! Can you believe it? A childhood romance straight out of a fairytale.”

Their voices faded down the hall.

I slumped against the bed, their words cutting deeper than my wounds.

The doctor’s earlier statement replayed in my mind.

“You’re lucky your hands can heal at all,” he’d said. “But as for piano… even if you play again, you’ll never reach the same level.”

His words were like ice water, extinguishing the last flicker of hope.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Sienna walked in, followed by Ashton, who was holding a bouquet of flowers.

I stared at them, my face cold and unreadable. “What do you want? Here to gloat?”

“Caleb, don’t say that,” Ashton murmured, looking sheepish. “Sienna told me about your injury. I just wanted to check on you.”

He placed the bouquet on the bedside table.

“Is that so?” I said with a bitter smile. “Let me guess—you didn’t know Sienna broke my hands for you?”

Sienna’s face drained of color.

She clenched her fists, her voice trembling with anger. “Hate me if you want, Caleb, but leave Ashton out of this. He didn’t know!”

Didn’t know?

I almost laughed.

How many times had Ashton smirked at me in private, bragging about how Sienna locked me on the rooftop? How he sent people to harass me, warning me to back off?

I lifted my bandaged hands and, with all the strength I could muster, threw his bouquet onto the floor.

Ashton gasped dramatically, stumbling behind Sienna like a frightened child.

Sienna exploded, pointing at me furiously. “You’re insane, Caleb! Ashton came here out of kindness, and this is how you repay him?”

I kept my voice calm, sharp as a knife. “I’m allergic to those flowers. You’d know that if you cared.”

Her anger faltered, embarrassment flashing across her face. “I… I forgot…” she stammered.

I cut her off coldly. “We’re done, Sienna. We’re over.”