I Was Dying While You Chose Her

I didn't bother lifting my head. My attention stayed on the bandage wrapped around my arm.

"The shelf fell on me."

His hand hovered uncertainly over mine before finally settling there. I could feel the tremor in his fingers.

"Everything happened so fast," he said quietly. "Bianca was crying. I thought she'd been seriously injured. I never meant to leave you there."

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

"You made the right choice. She needed you."

His expression tightened immediately.

"No, Alina."

He caught my hand between both of his, holding it so tightly it almost hurt.

"You don't understand. The only reason I've been indulging her is because she's your donor. That's it. You're the woman I love. You always have been. Please stop shutting me out."

My eyes stung.

"I know," I whispered. "That's why I never blamed you."

The tension drained from his face at once. He released a breath as though he'd been holding it for days.

Carefully, he adjusted the dressing on my arm. His touch was gentle, familiar.

"Get some sleep," he murmured. "I'll stay here tonight. I'll watch over you."

For a brief moment, I almost believed him.

With his hands tending to my injuries and his attention focused entirely on me, it felt like stepping back into the past. Back to the days when I never had to wonder whether he'd choose me.

Then his phone rang.

The sharp sound shattered the fragile illusion.

"Viktor..."

Bianca's voice came through the speaker, shaky with manufactured tears.

"I miss you. I'm scared. I can't find you anywhere..."

The guilt on his face appeared instantly.

"I'll be there right away."

The answer came without hesitation.

He ended the call and looked at me, conflicted.

"She's alone at the hospital," he explained. "She's frightened. I'll stay until she falls asleep, then I'll come back. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone.

The room seemed colder the moment the door closed behind him.

I curled into myself on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

My breathing wouldn't settle.

The pain in my body was manageable.

The pain in my heart wasn't.

---

He never came back that night.

Or the next.

At first, I found myself glancing at the clock every few minutes, listening for footsteps in the hallway.

Eventually, I stopped.

I took my medication when I was supposed to.

Changed my bandages.

Rested.

Recovered.

Quietly existing in a corner of a house that no longer felt like mine.

That afternoon, I sat near the window with a book resting in my lap.

Sunlight spilled across the room, warm and golden, but my eyes were too tired to focus on the words.

My phone vibrated.

The moment I answered, Bianca's voice flowed through the speaker.

"Hi, Alina. Want to hear something interesting?"

Her tone was sweet.

Too sweet.

"What is it?" I asked.

She laughed softly.

"Did you know Viktor almost got himself killed because of me?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"What are you talking about?"

The amusement in her voice grew stronger.

"I told him I wanted a necklace that was being given away at a motorcycle stunt exhibition. He signed up immediately. Didn't even stop to think about it."

She paused dramatically.

"He was driving so fast the bike nearly flipped. When they rushed him into the emergency room, do you know whose name he was calling?"

My stomach twisted.

"Bianca's."

The word came out of her mouth like a victory parade.

"My name. Not yours."

The book slipped from my hands and landed on the floor.

I turned toward the window.

The sunlight suddenly felt blinding.

My eyes burned, but I refused to let her hear it.

"So he got himself injured to make you happy," I said quietly.

"Mm-hmm."

She practically purred.

"Now he needs someone to take care of him. Maybe you'd like to come?"

I closed my eyes.

Then slowly exhaled.

"No."

The answer surprised even me.

"He's yours, isn't he? You're the one he risked himself for. You should be the one taking care of him."

Silence.

Long enough to feel strange.

Without waiting for another response, I ended the call.

The phone landed on the couch beside me.

For a moment, I simply sat there.

Outside, the trees swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.

I watched them until everything became blurry.

Then I picked up my phone again and dialed a number I'd already memorized.

The call connected after two rings.

"Hello?"

A man's voice.

"Good afternoon," I said calmly. "I'm calling regarding the double grave plot in Section B, Number Twelve. I'd like to ask if—"

The front door slammed open so violently that I nearly dropped the phone.

"Alina!"

My heart lurched.

I looked up.

Viktor stood in the doorway.

His face was pale.

He was still wearing a hospital gown beneath a coat, thick bandages wrapped around his chest. Fresh blood had seeped through the dressings.

His lips were colorless.

His eyes were fixed entirely on me.

The phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

"Viktor!"

I immediately stood.

"You should still be in the hospital!"

He ignored that.

Instead, he staggered toward me.

"Why?"

His voice sounded strained.

"Why were you asking about a grave?"

For one terrifying second, my heart stopped.

Then I forced myself to smile.

"You're misunderstanding."

I bent to retrieve the phone.

"Our neighbor's dog died. They asked me to help arrange something. That's all."

I kept my tone light.

Normal.

He stared at me for several seconds before his shoulders finally relaxed.

Then pain twisted across his face.

"Motorcycle accident," he muttered.

I hurried forward and caught his arm.

"Don't talk."

My concern overrode everything else.

"We're going back to the hospital right now."

---

During the drive, he leaned against the seat with his eyes half-closed.

For the first time in days, he looked vulnerable.

Not like a mafia king.

Not like the powerful man everyone feared.

Just tired.

Exhausted.

Human.

I watched him quietly.

Memorizing him.

The curve of his jaw.

The way his lips parted whenever he exhaled.

The faint crease between his brows.

Every detail.

Because I knew I wouldn't have much time left.

"This is the last time I'll worry about you," I whispered so softly that even the wind nearly stole the words away.

"After this, I'll already be gone."

He never heard me.

---

At the hospital, I handled the paperwork myself.

I signed forms.

Helped settle him into bed.

Adjusted his blanket.

Made sure he was comfortable.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

Only then did I step outside into the hallway.

I called Bianca.

She answered after a few rings.

"Bianca," I said. "Come tomorrow morning. There's something important I need to do."

Music and laughter echoed faintly in the background.

She sounded like she was enjoying herself.

"I'm out right now, Alina," she said casually. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Don't sound so dramatic."

The line disconnected.

---

The next morning, she arrived exactly as promised.

A designer handbag hung from her shoulder.

Her makeup was flawless.

Her hair looked like she'd just stepped off a runway.

Nothing about her belonged in a hospital.

I smiled faintly.

"You came."

She tilted her head.

A knowing smile curved her lips.

"Of course I did."

Then her expression sharpened.

"Though if we're being honest, Alina, I'm never donating my bone marrow."

The words came easily.

Cruelly.

"Why would I save you? The only thing I've ever wanted is Viktor. I'd rather watch you disappear."

I nodded.

"I know."

My voice remained calm.

"You've wanted me dead for a long time."

I looked her straight in the eye.

"Then take him. Look after him yourself."

Something flashed across her face.

Anger.

Triumph.

Maybe both.

Suddenly, her hand shot out and clamped around my arm.

Her nails dug into my skin.

Pain shot through me.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making a sound.

The movement was enough to wake Viktor.

The moment she noticed him stirring, Bianca released me.

Then, without hesitation, she slapped herself across the face.

The sound cracked through the room.

Tears instantly filled her eyes.

"Viktor!"

She burst into sobs.

"Alina hit me!"

She stumbled backward dramatically.

"She kept begging me for my bone marrow while you were sleeping. When I refused, she slapped me!"

She covered her cheek and cried harder.

The performance was flawless.

And judging by the look on Viktor's face as he opened his eyes, he had already seen enough to believe her.