“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and rough, heavy with fatigue. “My Aunt made porridge. Get up and have some later.”
He looked exhausted, his features worn, as if he hadn’t rested properly in days.
As her awareness sharpened, so did the pain. It radiated from her legs, sharp and relentless, but Evelyn endured it. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, as she asked, “If one day I’m gone... will you marry Charlotte?”
Christopher froze, his gaze darkening as he stared at her. His tone turned firm, laced with a controlling edge. “Where are you planning to go?”
Evelyn didn’t answer directly. Instead, she repeated her question, her voice quieter this time. “I mean, if I leave... will you marry her?”
“There’s no such possibility.”
His response was quick, almost impatient. He adjusted her blanket with a hint of annoyance, his eyes narrowing. “As long as you behave and stop throwing these tantrums, I’ll love you just as much as I always have.”
Evelyn gave him a faint smile, one filled with a quiet resignation. She could feel the cold liquid from the IV drip seeping into her veins, mending her broken body piece by piece. Her voice was soft, tinged with helplessness.
“But Christopher... I’ve never changed.”
***
Evelyn spent the next month confined to her bed.
Some days she scrolled through her phone, other days she lost herself in books. Often, though, she just lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts a jumble of tangled memories and emotions.
Charlotte came by daily, her presence like a bitter wind. Sometimes she would sneer, throwing taunts in Evelyn’s direction, but Evelyn never responded. Her silence seemed to frustrate Charlotte, as if she were punching air.
Eventually, Charlotte stopped trying to provoke her. Instead, she focused her energy on something else—planning Christopher’s wedding.
Staring at the wedding photos of Evelyn and Christopher, Charlotte’s jealousy burned like an uncontrollable flame. Those pictures should have been hers. Christopher should have been hers. The thought of them walking down the aisle together, holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed—it was unbearable.
Sitting on her sofa, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly. This wedding cannot happen.
Something had to be done.
***
An hour later, Charlotte appeared at Evelyn’s house with a glass of water in her hand.