I inhaled sharply, and the pain punished me for it. Clara lifted a straw to my lips. “Small sip.” The water tasted like mercy. I swallowed and tried again. “Did they get it?” She glanced toward the door. “The surgeon will explain everything, but yes. The procedure went better than expected.” I closed my eyes. Better than expected. Not perfect. Not miraculous. But enough. Enough to keep breathing. Enough to remember. Evan. His text came back like a blade sliding between my ribs. We’re getting a divorce, Jessica. I don’t need the burden of a sick wife. The pain in my body suddenly seemed honest. The pain from Evan was dirty. Cowardly. It had no right to exist inside a hospital room where people fought so hard to stay alive. Then another memory surfaced. Mark. The chair by my bed. His calm voice. The trash in your life has finally taken itself out. My insane joke. If I survive this, maybe we should just get married and call it a day. His answer. Okay. My eyes opened. “Mark,” I whispered.

Evan turned.

His face changed in the presence of money. It was disgusting to watch. He became smaller and more polished at once.

“Mr. Grant.”

“Mr. Hale.”

“This is a private conversation.”

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

Both men looked at me.

I stood slowly. My body still protested, but I stood.

“Evan, you don’t get private access to me anymore. You don’t get to corner me, insult me, frighten me, or rewrite what happened. Everything goes through Denise.”

His jaw clenched.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I made one eight years ago. I’m correcting it now.”

For a moment, he looked like he might say something unforgivable.

Then Mark took one step forward.

Just one.

Evan swallowed whatever poison was on his tongue.

“You’ll regret this,” he said.

“No,” I answered. “I’ll recover from it.”

He left.

The room felt cleaner once he was gone.

I sat down because my legs were shaking.

Mark came closer.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

“Fair.”

I looked up at him.

“You said yes.”

He tilted his head.

“When?”

“When he asked if you’d want me if I wasn’t tragic.”

Mark’s face softened.

“That was an easy answer.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

I studied him. “You haven’t kissed me.”