Chapter 4Don't Stay in the Winter for Me

"Thank you," I whispered, my eyes stinging.

With Liam’s help, the meal came together. But as I was carrying the platters out to the terrace, I caught Hudson watching us from the shadows. I don't know how long he’d been standing there, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes dark with a simmering hurt.

I was too tired to care. I walked past him without a word.

At the table, Hudson started again. He took one bite of the risotto and immediately spat it back into his napkin.

"God, Elena," he sneered. "Is your 'great cooking' just more PR? This is inedible."

I looked at him, and for the first time, I felt the weight of it all—the cancer, the secrets, the pretending. Why was he doing this? He used to beg me to cook for him on our nights off. He used to eat every grain of rice on the plate and tell me I was wasted on acting.

I looked him straight in the eyes and smiled. It was a bright, terrifyingly calm smile.

"It’s okay, Hudson," I said softly. "Don’t worry. This is probably the last time you’ll ever have to eat anything I’ve made."

The insult he was about to hurl died on his lips. His smirk froze. Something shifted in his eyes—a flicker of genuine, raw fear.

The rest of the dinner was silent. Hudson ate every bite of his portion after that, his left hand trembling under the table where he thought no one could see.

Halfway through the meal, my stomach cramped violently. I dropped my fork and ran for the bathroom. I barely made it to the sink before I was dry-heaving.

When I looked down, the white porcelain was splattered with bright, terrifying red.

I frantically turned on the faucet, washing the blood away before anyone could see. When I walked back out, I bumped into Hudson in the hallway.

He looked at my pale face, his brow furrowed. "Are you okay? You look like a ghost."

I felt a sudden, wicked urge to mess with him. "I’m pregnant," I whispered.

His eyes went wide. He actually stumbled back, his voice failing him. "Is... is it mine?"

I let out a soft laugh. "I’m kidding, Hudson. Relax."

"Elena!" he yelled, but I was already walking away.

I locked myself in my room and collapsed. It took twenty minutes before I could find the strength to crawl into bed and take my pain killers. As the pills began to numb the ache in my chest, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from my mom.

Elena, why did you wire me so much money this morning? Is everything okay?

My throat tightened. Everything’s fine, Mom, I typed. I’m just going to be filming on location for a long time, and I won't be able to check in much. Just wanted you to have some extra cushion. Take care of yourself.

Okay, honey. I’ll put it in a high-yield account for you. Oh! I sent you a box of those homemade caramels you love. You know your blood sugar gets low when you’re stressed. Keep them in your pocket.

I replied with a heart emoji.

My mom had sacrificed everything to get us away from my abusive father when I was a teenager. She finally had a peaceful, happy life with her new husband and my younger half-sister. I couldn't bring this darkness into her world.

I wanted to live. God, I wanted to live. I wanted more movies, more mornings with Barnaby, more time. But the world doesn't care what we want.

The next morning, the crew took us up to a mountain ridge to watch the "Golden Hour" sunrise. I had been looking forward to this—one last beautiful thing before I went back to the hospital.

But the hike was brutal. Every step felt like a battle against my own fading life. I fell to the back of the group, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Liam noticed. He doubled back and stood in front of me. "Get on my back," he ordered.

"Liam, I'm fine—"

"You’re white as a sheet, Elena. Don't be stubborn." He hoisted me up before I could protest. "Why are you so light? Have you been eating at all?"

"Prep for a new role," I lied, resting my head on his shoulder.