My husband once begged me with tears in his eyes to save his first love.

CHAPTER 3

William looked at me like he had just said something normal.

"Lily. You will take care of her."

For a moment I did not move. Then a short laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

"You want me to what?"

William frowned slightly, like my reaction was already tiring him. "Camille is still weak," he said calmly. "She needs someone around during the day."

Beside him, Camille lowered her eyes like the conversation embarrassed her. One hand rested lightly on William’s arm, her fingers curling into his sleeve like she needed the support.

"I told him it would be too much trouble," she said softly, her voice gentle, almost guilty. "But William insisted."

William’s hand moved to her back immediately, steadying her as if she might collapse. "You shouldn't worry about things like that," he murmured to her before looking at me again. "Lily will help."

I stared at him. The words settled slowly. He had watched me struggle to walk for weeks. He knew I still held the wall when I climbed the stairs. He knew my hands sometimes shook when I held a cup. And he still said that.

"You want me to take care of her."

My voice came out flat.

William’s patience already looked thin. "Don't make this difficult, Lily."

That sentence hit something inside me.

"Difficult?"

I pushed myself to my feet. The movement was slower than I wanted, my legs wobbling for a second before I forced them to hold me upright. Camille immediately gasped softly.

"Lily, please don't stand so quickly," she said, stepping forward like she wanted to help.

William’s arm shot out instantly, not toward me but toward her. "Careful," he said quickly, guiding her back. "You shouldn't move around too much."

His hand stayed at her waist, steadying her.

My laugh came out before I could stop it. "You dragged the woman you love into our house," I said, "and now you want me to take care of her."

Camille’s fingers tightened slightly against William’s sleeve, her voice trembling just enough to sound fragile. "I told him I shouldn't stay here," she whispered.

William shook his head immediately. "You have nowhere else to go right now."

"She has hospitals," I snapped. "She has doctors. She has friends."

William’s voice dropped. "And she has me."

The room went quiet. Camille lowered her head like she felt guilty hearing that, but she did not move away from him. I laughed again, sharper this time.

"Of course she does."

William’s expression hardened. "You agreed to help her live. Why are you acting like this now?"

That sentence made something in my head go very quiet.

"You begged me," I said slowly.

His jaw tightened. "I asked for your help."

"No," I corrected him, my voice sharper now. "You begged me."

I stepped closer. "You stood in that hospital hallway like the world was ending. You held my hands and told me she would die."

Camille looked up slightly at that, her eyes wide like the memory still frightened her.

"You said I was the only match."

Neither of them spoke.

"So I climbed onto that hospital bed," I continued, my voice steady now, "and let them push needles into my bones while you held my hand and promised you would never abandon me."

William shifted slightly.

"And three months later you bring her into our house and tell me to take care of her."

Camille stepped forward again, her expression anxious. "Lily, please don't misunderstand," she said softly. "William only did that because he was scared."

Her eyes looked watery now. "He thought I would die."

William’s arm tightened protectively around her shoulders. "You don't need to explain anything to her," he said quietly before looking at me again. "You are exaggerating."

The word landed hard.

Exaggerating.

I stared at him. "You cancelled my hospital checkups."

"You were recovering."

"You told me to stop acting like I was dying."

His expression did not change.

"And now I should take care of the woman who needed my bone marrow."

William exhaled slowly.

"Yes."

Just one word.

Yes.

Camille looked between us quickly like the tension worried her. "William, maybe I should leave," she murmured.

"You are not going anywhere," he said firmly.

His hand gently brushed her hair away from her face. "You need rest."

Then he looked at me again.

"Lily will take care of things."

Something inside me went very still.

I looked at Camille, the woman my husband had risked my life for. She stood close to him, small and delicate, leaning slightly into his side like she needed the support.

"Do you even hear yourself?" I asked him.

"Lily, stop being emotional."

I shook my head slowly.

"No."

The word felt calm leaving my mouth.

"No. I think I finally hear you clearly."

William frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means I finally understand something."

My voice was steady now.

"You would always choose her."

He did not deny it. He did not even try. That silence said enough.

The room stayed quiet for a moment. Then Camille moved again. She walked toward me slowly and William immediately reached for her arm.

"Camille, you should sit down."

"I'm fine," she said softly.

She stopped a step away from me, her smile gentle.

"Thank you again, Lily."

I did not answer.

Her eyes studied my face for a moment before she leaned closer, close enough that William could not hear.

Her voice dropped into a quiet whisper.

Soft.

Almost amused.

"Did you really think I needed that bone marrow transplant?”