The Year I Died Was When He Loved Me Most

I staggered to my feet, walked toward Ethan, and slapped him hard across the face.

"If anything happens to my mom, I swear I'll drag you to hell with me."

Ethan froze. He'd never seen me look at him with such raw hatred.

"You're insane!"

He shoved me away the moment he recovered.

"Yes, I'm insane—you made me this way. Fine, bully me all you want, but why can't you leave my mom alone? She's innocent."

"Innocent?" He laughed coldly. "If she's innocent, then what does that make my mother? If I could, I'd make sure yours never woke up. Consider it payback."

A stabbing pain tore through my body.

My knees hit the floor. The icy tile shocked some clarity back into me.

Ethan's hand twitched toward me—then pulled back.

Blood surged up my throat and spilled onto the pristine white floor. My voice shook. "Have you ever loved me? Even once?"

He frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

I forced myself upright through the agony and plastered on a smirk. "So easy to fool. Can't even see through a simple trick."

His jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

"Love? What right do you have to even ask? You were just some bar singer. You think you were clean? If it weren't for that scar, you'd never have set foot in my house. You were never worthy."

My clenched fist slowly loosened.

So that's what he really thought.

"I know you didn't sign the divorce papers."

He stepped closer.

"Here's your chance. Kneel. Kowtow to my mother three times—loud enough for everyone to hear. Then scream it: your mother's a slut, a homewrecker, and everything is her fault." His lips curled. "Do that, and maybe I'll reconsider the divorce."

He watched me, certain I'd never go through with it.

"Ethan!"

Alex Pruitt rushed over and stumbled into his arms. Before he could steady her, she leaned close and whispered something in his ear.

He glanced at me—something unreadable flickering in his eyes—then left with her.

In that moment, the eighteen-year-old girl who once loved him shattered completely.

Goodbye, Ethan.

That day, his mother showed signs of waking. Alex Pruitt had arranged an overseas medical team.

My mother pulled through too.

Alex Matthews helped me move her into an apartment.

Before Ethan left the country, he sent me a message:

"I've been thinking. Maybe we were both too impulsive that day. If you don't want the divorce, wait until I'm back. We'll talk."

But I'd never see that message. The phone was already at the bottom of the ocean.

I signed the divorce papers.

I packed everything. Whatever Mom could use, I took. The rest, I threw away.

Until no trace of me remained in that house.

The moment I stepped outside, I collapsed.

Alex Matthews caught me and ran. He got me to the ER just in time.

When I woke, my thoughts were still scattered.

"How long?"

He couldn't meet my eyes. Couldn't say two days.

But I understood.

"Alex. One last favor." My voice was barely a whisper. "Take care of my mom."

He wrapped both hands around mine and nodded.

The next morning, he found my hospital bed empty. He searched everywhere, frantic.

He finally found me on a park bench.

My thin body, pale, leaned against the back of the chair.

Alex supported my head against his shoulder.

"Alex, I'm sorry. In this life, I held you back for far too long. Be happy."

My breathing slowed, then stopped. At last, the light finally fell on me.

Mrs. Yates's surgery was a success. The two of them boarded the plane home.

"Ethan, about what happened—don't take it out on Nina. The number of times your father cheated, even I can't count. This time, I've thought it through."

Ethan's emotions were complicated. When he brought his mother back to the hospital to handle the discharge paperwork, he caught the voice of a young nurse nearby.

"Did you hear? Dr. Matthews's childhood sweetheart—Chambers, I think—she died! He's been a wreck these past few days."