Chapter 2

I needed to check into the hospital soon. First, I wanted to buy something comfortable to wear.

When I walked into the boutique, I saw them.

Claire had returned from Europe in a rush and hadn’t brought enough clothes. Adrian had dinner plans with his friends, but when she wanted to shop, they all came along like loyal bodyguards.

Adrian’s circle had never liked me. They always thought he’d lost his mind getting involved with a scholarship girl like me. Behind my back, they'd mock and sneer.

Now that Claire was back, they practically crowned her queen.

Adrian’s childhood friend, Leo Sawyer, spotted me first. He frowned slightly.

“What are you doing here? You’re not about to cause trouble, are you? I’m warning you, Lila—Claire doesn’t know anything. Don’t make a scene.”

Another one, Mason Greer, chimed in, “Yeah, Adrian’s super protective of her now. If you upset her, don’t blame him for making sure you can’t set foot in New York again.”

They looked at me like I was some threat. Like I was a thief breaking into a palace.

Adrian came out of the fitting room just then, helping Claire with her dress. When he saw me, his face darkened.

“Lila. You promised you wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

His accusatory tone made my head throb.

“I’m not bothering you.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up the clothes I ordered.”

Before he could say anything else, Isabella—the boutique owner—spotted me and lit up.

“Oh, darling Lila, you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”

Her eyes darted between me and Adrian, trying to piece things together. I pretended not to notice and walked into the back with her.

She handed me the loungewear set I’d ordered weeks ago—soft cotton and fleece, perfect for hospital stays.

Isabella, warm-hearted and Italian, took one look at my pale face and red-rimmed eyes, and her expression softened.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? That man out there—he’s not your boyfriend anymore?”

Adrian and I had been here together before. Twice. She remembered.

I smiled faintly. “No. We’re just friends now.”

“Don’t lie,” she whispered. “On your birthday, he brought you here to pick a dress, remember? You were so happy, bouncing into his arms like a little bird.”

I remembered too. I had thrown my arms around him that day. He scolded me for it later.

He told me he didn’t like public displays. Said I needed to have boundaries.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

“It’s over, Isabella. The woman with him today is his fiancée.”

“Don’t worry about me. Go help your other customers. I have to get going.”

She knew I had cancer. Refused to take my money, no matter how much I insisted.

Finally, I gave up, grabbed the bag, and thanked her again and again.

Just as I turned to leave, Isabella pulled me into a hug and patted my back gently.

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

That sudden kindness almost made me cry.

The moment I stepped out of the back room, the door to the fitting room opened.

Claire emerged, wearing a slinky satin dress, her eyes scanning me from head to toe with the cool detachment of royalty.

She and I weren’t exactly strangers.

Back in college, we’d stood on the same stage many times. I won academic scholarships. She shone in student associations. Sometimes we’d smile politely, nod in acknowledgment.

But now, her gaze held nothing but disdain.

“Hi. Long time,” I said, forcing a smile.

She responded with a cold “Mm.”

Then, she looked me up and down with open contempt, turned on her heel, and walked away.

Adrian rushed to meet her, wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

The look in his eyes—soft, adoring—I’d never seen him look at me like that.

Isabella sighed beside me. “If you’re hurting, Lila, it’s okay to cry. I won’t judge you.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “I’m not sure I can cry.”

Honestly, I couldn’t. Not anymore. My life was hanging by a thread. I didn’t have the energy for heartbreak.

I left the boutique with my things and headed straight to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center.

The doctor said surgery would come first, then chemotherapy. He asked if I had family to accompany me and sign the consent forms.

That question stung more than I expected.

I used to have someone. But he chose not to be family anymore.

I told the staff I had enough money to hire a private nurse. I could sign the forms myself.

Thanks to the money Adrian left me, the hospital gave me a private room and assigned a gentle, kind caregiver.

After surgery, the pain in my chest was constant and dull. But emotionally, I still felt hollow.

I pulled out my phone. Adrian had just posted a photo of Claire trying on wedding gowns. Her smile beamed from the screen like a victory banner.

My incision hurt worse.

I snapped a photo of my IV line and posted a private status, visible only to myself: “Lila, you don’t feel pain.”

Moments later, Claire’s post vanished from public view.

I checked her profile. She’d blocked me.

Perfect. What a joke life had become. I was a clown in my own circus.

The tumor biopsy results came back. Not great news.

The doctor said I’d need my first round of chemo soon. It was going to be rough.

I thought I was ready.

I wasn’t.

The nausea was relentless. I couldn’t keep anything down. In just a month, I lost a significant amount of weight. My mood sank into gray.

One afternoon, my nurse helped me out to the hospital’s garden for fresh air. That’s when I saw him.

A boy sat alone on a bench, his head wrapped in white gauze. He looked like an Indian prince from a fairytale.

He was yelling into his phone.

“What? You and Dad went to St. Barts again? I’m in the hospital, and you still don’t care?”

“My brother? Please. All he sees is his precious job. I barely exist to him.”

“You’re all heartless! Your poor, weak, helpless son is lying here, and you’re off vacationing like nothing’s wrong!”

“I don’t care anymore. I’m going rogue. Going dark. I will rebel!”

He slammed the phone down and started yanking leaves off a nearby shrub in frustration.

Then, he turned—and our eyes met.

He had the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Big, wet eyes stared at me like a startled deer.

He was stunning. So pure, so heartbreakingly lovely.

He blushed under my gaze, cheeks turning pink. Then he stood up quickly and hurried off.

Just like that. A boy with a bandaged head and a broken heart.

And somehow, in that strange, small moment, I felt a little less alone.