I remembered things I didn’t want to remember. Him driving across the city at three in the morning because I said my bones hurt and I couldn’t sleep. Him showing up with greasy dumplings and acting like it was nothing. Him buying me shoes I only mentioned once, like it was a joke. Him kneeling under those stupid fireworks on my birthday, holding a ring with shaking hands.
“Marry me after you graduate,” he said back then. “I want forever with you.”
Everyone believed him.
Fredrinn Ashcroft. Mafia boss. Cold to the world. Soft only for me.
And when I got diagnosed six months ago, he didn’t let go of my hand. Not once. He cried like he was the one dying.
“If you quit, I quit,” he said. “Don’t leave me.”
He searched everywhere after that. Doctors. Black market contacts. Underground hospitals. He even tried to give his own blood, knowing damn well it wouldn’t work. I caught him writing a will once. He didn’t hide it. He wasn’t scared.
And yes, he paid her.
One hundred million.
I saw the transfer. Clean. Immediate. Mafia money moves fast. Money for her fashion dreams. For her freedom. For her loyalty.
But money wasn’t enough. She wanted him too.
And the worst part? He gave her that. Even if he keeps saying it was for me.
For the fourth time in six months, my twin backed out again.
There was always a reason. Always some new problem. And every single time, Fredrinn stayed glued to her side like she was the one dying.
The first time, she fainted. Said her blood sugar dropped. Fredrinn slept at her hospital for three nights straight. He didn’t come home. He didn’t even bother to text me goodnight.
The second time, she said she couldn’t sleep. Anxiety. Nightmares. Fredrinn sat through her therapy sessions like a loyal husband, holding her hand until morning.
The third time, she suddenly had a fever. That same day, I collapsed during treatment. Nurses were calling his name. He still left. Went straight to her place to take care of her.
And now she wanted something new.
She told him she’d finally donate her bone marrow if he agreed to be her husband for one month.
Just one month.
I was lying on my hospital bed when he told me. My hands were shaking so bad I had to grip the blanket to stop them.
“Fredrinn,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. It still came out weak. “Give her more money. I don’t care how much. Just pay her. Please. Don’t be her boyfriend. Just tell her to do it now.”