When My Fiancé Chose His Mistress Over My Cancer

I woke up in a motel room that smelled like bleach and old carpet. The kind of place you stay when you're running from something. Or running toward the end.

Someone knocked on the door.

I sat up too fast. My head spun. The pain medication made mornings feel like swimming through fog.

I opened the door.

Reign stood there holding two black coffees.

Not oat milk lattes. Just black coffee.

He held one out to me. Didn't say anything.

I took it. Stared at the cup. At the steam rising in the cold morning air.

"How did you know?" I asked.

He stepped past me into the room. Set his own coffee on the table by the window. "You always ordered oat milk. But your face did something complicated every time you drank it. Like you were tolerating it instead of enjoying it."

I looked down at the cup in my hands. "Kyle said I needed to watch my weight."

"Kyle's an idiot."

I sat on the edge of the bed. Took a sip. It was perfect. Strong and bitter and exactly what I wanted.

It was the first time in six years someone had given me what I actually wanted instead of what I'd been told I should want.

I didn't cry. But it was close.

Reign sat in the chair by the window. Drank his coffee. Didn't push.

After a while, I said, "I booked a flight to LA. Cheapest ticket I could find."

He nodded. "When?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Good," he said. "I'll drive you to the airport."

I looked at him. At the way he was watching me with that steady gaze. Like I was a problem he was already solving in his head.

"You don't have to," I said.

"I know."

But he showed up the next morning anyway.

The airport was crowded. I checked my bag. Got my boarding pass. Gate C7.

Reign walked with me to security.

"Thanks," I said. "For everything."

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he nodded. "See you around, Nori."

I went through security. Found my gate. Sat in a plastic chair and waited.

They called my boarding group. I got in line. Walked down the jetway. Found my seat.

22A. Window.

I put my bag under the seat in front of me. Buckled in. Stared out at the tarmac.

The middle seat next to me was empty.

People kept boarding. Shuffling down the aisle. Shoving bags into overhead bins.

Then I saw him.

Reign. Walking down the aisle with a carry-on bag and a boarding pass in his hand.

He stopped at my row. Looked at the seat number. Looked at me.

"You're in my seat," he said.

I stared at him. "What?"

He lifted his bag into the overhead bin. Sat down in 22B. The middle seat.

"I had first class," he said. "Traded it. Now move your elbow. You're hogging the armrest."

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"You quit your job," I finally said.

He buckled his seatbelt. Pulled out his phone and switched it to airplane mode. "This morning. HR was very confused."

"Reign—"

"It was a terrible job," he said. He looked at me. Really looked at me. "You were the only good part."

I turned to the window so he wouldn't see my face.

The plane taxied. Took off. Seattle disappeared below us.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and closed my eyes.

We drove down the Pacific Coast Highway in a rental car Reign insisted on paying for. The ocean was on our left. Endless and gray.

My phone started buzzing.

I looked at the screen. Kyle. Again.

It had been going on for an hour. Seventeen calls. Twenty texts.

I put the phone face down in the cup holder.

Reign glanced at it. "He's persistent."

"He's panicking," I said. "He finally checked my apartment. It's empty. My social media's been dark for days. His emails to my work account bounced back."

The phone buzzed again.

"Want me to answer it?" Reign asked.

I looked at him. "What?"

"I'll answer it," he said. "Make it stop."

I should have said no. Should have let it ring out. Let Kyle spiral on his own.

But I was tired. So tired.

"Okay," I said quietly.

I closed my eyes. Leaned my head against the window. Pretended to sleep.

The phone rang again.

Reign picked it up. Answered.

"Who is this?" Kyle's voice came through tinny and sharp. I could hear him even with my eyes closed.

"I'm the man who's with her right now," Reign said. His voice was calm. Cold.

"Put Nori on the phone," Kyle demanded.

"No."

"Listen, I don't know who you think you are—"

"I'm the man who's with her right now," Reign repeated. "Unlike you, I don't leave her bleeding on a hospital bathroom floor to rescue a woman who can't parallel park. Lose this number."

He hung up.

The car was quiet.

I kept my eyes closed. Felt the tears slide down my face. Hot against my cold skin.

Reign didn't say anything. Just kept driving.

After a while, he reached over and took my hand.

I held on.

And for the first time in six years, I felt like someone was holding on too.