Chapter 4The Love I Burned Away

I looked up and gave him a bright, empty smile. "There's no need. I’m just happy to be marrying you. The dress doesn't matter."

"Mike," I added, "I hope you get everything you want."

He started to say something, but Chloe stirred on the bed, let out a soft moan of pain, and he was immediately gone, leaning over her, blowing on a spoonful of porridge to cool it down for her.

While he was preoccupied, I slipped out of the room and went to finalize my visa paperwork.

Later that afternoon, Mike sent me a text. He had actually invited me to a movie premiere.

You’ve been wanting to see this one forever. I’ll pick you up at seven.

It was a romance—a story about childhood sweethearts. I had mentioned it to him a dozen times over the last year, trying to hint at my feelings. Back then, he had just rolled his eyes and told me it sounded boring.

I knew what this was. This was his apology. But the apology was for a girl who didn't exist anymore.

I typed back a quick reply: Don't worry about it. You don't owe me anything.

He saved me, he gave me a home. I was paying him back by taking care of his true love. But Mike was stubborn; he insisted we go.

I went to the theater. I sat in the lobby for forty-five minutes. He never showed up.

Instead, my phone pinged with a local social news alert. CEO of Miller Corp hosts 'Hospital Banquet' for mystery woman.

Chloe had wanted a candlelight dinner, so Mike had ordered a five-star hotel to cater a full meal in her hospital suite. In the photos, the candlelight flickered across his face, showing a tenderness and warmth I had never been the recipient of.

I watched the movie alone.

When I got home, there was a text from him.

Sorry, something came up at the office. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. The dress was delivered to the house, make sure it fits.

The dress was already altered for Chloe. There was no reason for me to put it on.

I ignored the ache in my chest and started packing my final suitcase. I texted him back: It’s fine. I heard it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding anyway. I’m going to stay at a hotel for the next few days to get ready.

He didn't reply. But two minutes later, my phone rang. It was the hospital.

Mike had been in a car accident on his way back from the hospital. There was a shortage in the blood bank, and he was heading into emergency surgery.

I didn't call his parents. I grabbed my coat and caught a cab to the hospital.

As the needle slid into my vein, the world seemed to blur. I saw eighteen-year-old Mike again. I saw him in that alleyway, surrounded by those boys, his face covered in blood, yet he was still using his jacket to shield my eyes.

"Wait for me, Gracie. Big brother’s got you."

He had protected me for ten years. This was the last time I’d protect him.

When the surgery was over, I sat by his bed until he opened his eyes. He looked at me, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you."

"Grace," he croaked, his voice weak. "As long as you leave Chloe alone... I’ll keep you safe. Like I always have."

So, he still remembered those promises. I looked at his pale, exhausted face and smiled the same way I did when I was a girl.

"Okay. Thank you, Mike."

His injuries weren't life-threatening. The wedding would go on as scheduled. I felt a wave of relief. I hired a professional nurse to stay with him, went home to grab my bags, and checked into a hotel near the airport.

Over the next few days, his parents sent me a flurry of messages. Mike was sending over jewelry sets, honeymoon itineraries to the places I’d always dreamed of visiting. He’d remembered everything. They were terrified I wouldn't show up, begging me to change my mind about leaving.

Then I saw Chloe’s latest Instagram post. A photo of her hand intertwined with his in the hospital bed. On her finger, the ornate diamond ring I had picked out.

I smiled and turned off my phone.

On the morning of the wedding, as I was heading to the airport, one final message came through from Mike.

Are you ready? I’m on my way to get you.

I didn't answer. I deleted his contact and blocked his number.

In the bridal suite of the church, Mike stared at his phone, a cold knot of dread forming in his stomach. He turned to his parents.

"Is Grace still in hair and makeup? She’s been looking forward to this for years—why is she being so slow?"

Before they could speak, his assistant burst into the room, his face white as a sheet.

"Sir... it's Grace. She booked a flight out of the country this morning. That plane... it just went down."