I Saved Every Penny for Our Cramped Apartment, He Bought an Island for His First Love

I left the office a little before eleven, the overtime finally behind me.

I stopped at a convenience store for a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, drank a couple of mouthfuls, and headed for the subway.

At the intersection, my legs gave out without warning.

I reached for the lamppost and missed. My whole body pitched toward the ground.

The back of my head cracked against the curb. The world went black, my ears ringing with a low, swelling hum.

When I came to, there was a white ceiling above me and the sharp bite of antiseptic in my nose.

Someone was talking nearby.

"She's awake."

The voice was familiar.

I turned my head toward it.

Caleb was sitting in the chair by the bed, his suit jacket draped over his knees, the top button of his collar undone.

He was watching me with an expression I'd never seen on him before.

I couldn't name it. His brows were drawn tight, his lips parted, but no sound came out.

I asked, "Why are you here?"

"The hospital called me."

He said, "I'm still your emergency contact."

I didn't answer.

It was true. It was my phone. I'd just never gotten around to changing it.

Caleb leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. He glanced down at his own hands, then lifted his eyes to me again.

"I didn't know you'd push yourself this hard."

He said it quietly.

I just stared at him.

"If I'd known, that three hundred thousand, I wouldn't have—"

"Wouldn't have what?"

He paused.

"Wouldn't have given it the way I did."

A nurse came in, took my temperature, and left.

Then it was just the two of us in the room.

Caleb stood and pulled the blanket up a little higher over my feet.

"Every time you got sick these five years," he started, his voice lower than I remembered, "I really was worried. That part was real."

I said nothing.

"Some of it, when we were together, was real," he said. "I never meant to—"

"What are you trying to say?"

He looked at me.

"I'm sorry."

He said it.

And once those words were out, something seemed to press down on him, his shoulders sinking.

"When I gave you that three hundred thousand, I just wanted a clean break. I never thought you'd stay in this city. I never thought your office would be so close to mine. I never thought you'd—"

"I'd what?"

I asked. "Nearly die on the street right across from your company?"

He didn't answer.

"I read your test results," he said. "You've barely been eating, haven't you. Your hemoglobin's dangerously low."

"None of your business."

He let that one go.

A few seconds passed before he spoke again. "If you'd let me, I can take care of the apartment for you."

I looked at him.

He said, "I'll add a little more. You could buy something small in a better neighborhood. Then you wouldn't have to rent, you wouldn't have to—"

"Are you finished?"

He stopped.

"If you're finished, get out."

Caleb didn't move. He just sat there, looking at me.

"I never thought it would come to this," he said. "I thought you'd take the money and go home, or start over in another city. I didn't know you'd stay, that you'd live right beside your office, working until eleven or midnight every night, not even eating properly."

"Well, now you know," I said. "So you can get out."

He stood, looking down at me from the side of the bed.

I pushed myself up to sit, the IV line still taped into the back of my hand.

He didn't stop me. He just stood there.

"I said get out. Did you not hear me?"

Caleb looked at me, his lips moving slightly.

I raised my hand and slapped him.

The sound was sharp and clean, my palm stinging afterward.

His face turned to the side, his hair falling across half of one eye. He didn't move. He didn't cover his cheek.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Get out!”