His Choice Was Her

I didn’t look up. “The shelf hit me.”

His hand hovered in the air, shaking. “I… it was chaos. Fresca was crying. I thought she was hurt bad. I didn’t mean to leave you.”

I forced a small smile. “You did the right thing. She needed you.”

“No, Claire.” He grabbed my hand tightly. His grip was warm, desperate. “You don’t understand. I only treat her well because of her bone marrow. You’re the one I love. Always you. Don’t push me away.”

My eyes burned, “I know. That’s why I didn’t blame you.”

Relief washed over his face. He carefully bandaged my wound, his fingers gentle. “Rest now. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

For a moment, with his warm hands fixing my bandage, I almost believed it was the past again. Back when he never left my side.

But then the ringtone broke the silence.

“Beckley…” Fresca’s voice was full of sobs. “I miss you. I’m scared… I can’t find you…”

Beckley’s face twisted with guilt. “I’ll come right away.”

He hung up and looked at me, torn. “She’s alone in the hospital. She’s afraid. I’ll come back after she sleeps, I swear.”

Then he left in a rush, carrying away the last warmth in my room.

I curled up on my bed like a child, hugging my knees to my chest, my breathing uneven. It was not just my chest that hurt. It was my heart. Beckley had not come home for two days straight. At first I kept checking the clock, waiting for his footsteps, but now I just stopped caring. I swallowed my meds on time, changed the dressing on my arm when I needed to, and forced myself to heal quietly in my little corner.

....

That afternoon, I sat by the window with a book on my lap. The sunlight was warm, but my eyes felt too weak to hold it for long. My phone buzzed on the table, and when I picked it up, her voice poured through the speaker.

“Hi, Claire. Guess what?” Fresca’s voice had that fake sweetness that made my stomach twist. She was enjoying herself. “Do you know Beckley risked his life for me?”

I froze. “What do you mean?”

She giggled like a little girl showing off a prize. “I only mentioned I wanted that necklace they give to the champion of the motorbike stunt show. He signed up right away, Claire. He didn’t even hesitate. You should have seen it! He drove so fast the bike nearly flipped. He almost died, all for me. And when they pushed him into the ER, do you know what he shouted?” Her voice trembled with excitement. “He called my name. Mine.”

My book slipped shut on my lap. I turned to the window. The sun outside was too bright, it stung my eyes, but I would not let her hear me break. “So he hurt himself to make you smile,” I said softly.

“Yes,” she whispered, drawing out the word. “He needs someone to take care of him now. I thought maybe you would want to come over?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “No, Fresca. He’s yours, isn’t he? You’re the one he chose to get hurt for. Then you should be the one to take care of him.”

Her silence lasted a beat too long. Before she could say another word, I ended the call. I dropped the phone onto the couch like it was burning my hand.

The trees outside swayed in the breeze, their leaves whispering against each other. I stared at them until my eyes blurred, then picked up my phone again.

My fingers dialed a number I had memorized weeks ago.

“Hello?” a man’s voice answered.

“Hi. This is about the double grave plot, section B, number twelve. I wanted to ask if—”

The door crashed open so loud I jumped, nearly dropping the phone.

“Claire!”

I looked up, and my heart stopped. Beckley stood in the doorway, pale as death in a striped hospital gown. His chest was thickly wrapped in bandages, but I could see the blood soaking through, spreading wider with each breath. His lips were drained of color, yet his eyes… his eyes were burning like fire.

My phone slid from my hand to the floor. “Beckley, what are you doing here? You should be in the hospital!”

He staggered a step closer, clutching the doorway for balance. “Why, Claire? Why were you trying to buy a grave?”

I forced a little smile, even though my heart stopped beating for a second. “It’s not what you think. The neighbor’s dog passed away last night. They begged me to help arrange something because they didn’t know how. That’s all, Beck.” I said it so calmly that even I almost believed it.

His shoulders sagged, but his face twisted in pain. He stumbled and caught the wall. “Motor crash.”

I rushed to him and held his arm. “Don’t talk. I’ll take you right now back to hospital.”

On the ride there, his head rested against the seat, his lashes fluttering like a boy too tired to fight. I stared at him, memorizing the shape of his face, the way his lips parted when he breathed. My voice trembled so softly only the wind could hear. “This will be the last time I worry about you, Beck. After this, I’ll already be in the grave.”

....

At the hospital, I signed the papers, tucked him into a bed, fixed the blanket like a nurse. He drifted into sleep, and I stepped into the hall with my phone. My voice stayed steady. “Fresca, can you come here in the morning? I have something important to do.”

She laughed faintly, music and chatter spilling in the background. “I’m out right now, Claire. I’ll drop by tomorrow, fine? Don’t sound so serious.”

Morning came. Fresca walked in with her designer bag slung over her shoulder, her hair perfectly done. She looked more like she was stepping onto a runway than into a hospital.

I gave her a quiet smile, hiding the ache in my chest. “You came.”

She tilted her head, lips curling. “Of course. I wanted to see how you’re doing… though let’s be honest, Claire. I’ll never donate bone marrow for you. Why would I? You know I only want Beckley. I’d rather see you gone.” Her voice was loud enough that the nurses turned their heads.

“I know, cousin. You wished I would die. Then take him. Care for him yourself.”

Something in my calm tone made her eyes flash. She grabbed my arm hard, her nails digging into my skin. “Stop acting holy. You’re trying to guilt-trip me.” She shook me so violently that pain shot through me, but I bit down on my lip and refused to scream.

The noise woke Beckley.

Fresca let go of me at once and slapped her own cheek, then burst into tears. “Beckley! Claire hit me! She was jealous of me, I swear. She told me to give her my bone marrow right now while you were asleep. She forced me to agree to surgery, but when I said no, she slapped me!” She cradled her face, crying harder, her sobs shaking the room.