While I Was Dying, He Was Loving Her

“A-Am I going to die?”

I woke up feeling weak. My body was drained, as if all the life had been sucked out of me.

I didn’t know who I was talking to.

Then I felt it. A soft mattress underneath me. Its gentle cushions welcomed my aching body. A moment later, light pierced through the darkness—bright, harsh, blinding.

It was focused directly on me, like a spotlight in an interrogation room.

Footsteps echoed from my right.

I tensed. My breath caught in my throat.

A silhouette appeared. A man. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I recognized the calmness in his presence, the gentleness of his hand as he caressed my cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice low but comforting.

“I’m going to help you. I’ll make sure you get the justice you deserve. You didn’t deserve that kind of life.”

That voice…I knew that voice.

Dr. Romano.

“W-What? What are you doing? Why are you helping me?” I managed to whisper, my voice rasping from exhaustion.

I remember now.

He was the one who found me when I collapsed in the middle of the road.

But instead of answering, he locked eyes with me.

His gaze sent a jolt through my core, there was rage in those eyes, and grief. But I couldn’t tell if it was directed at someone else… or at me.

“I want you to sleep,” he said gently, “Rest. Let me handle the rest.”

That’s when I saw it, a syringe in his hand.

“What are you—?”

Before I could finish, the needle pierced my skin. A cold sensation rushed through my veins, and the edges of my vision began to blur.

My limbs turned heavy, and the darkness pulled me under once again.

His voice was the last thing I heard.

“I’ll help you live long enough… so you can be mine.”

---

My eyes fluttered open slowly. I blinked against the soft lighting and turned my head, scanning the unfamiliar room around me. Where was I?

I sat up, confused, but before I could take in my surroundings, a voice startled me.

“Oh, don’t move too fast.”

I turned my head sharply. My eyes widened.

Dr. Romano.

He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, calmly reading a book. He looked different—he was wearing glasses now. He marked the page, closed the book, and stood.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

I looked down at my body, searching for answers, trying to remember what happened.

“W-What did you do to me?” I demanded.

He smiled, wide and almost proud.

“I saved you. You were dying when I found you. But you’re not dying anymore.”

My heart pounded. “How is that even possible?”

“Simple,” he said. “I found a blood donor. I created an antidote. I treated you. All for free.”

My brows furrowed. “Why? Why are you doing this for me? What do you want in return?”

“I don’t want anything in return, Priscilla.”

He turned to face me, his eyes locking with mine. That’s when I saw it—pity. A quiet sorrow that softened the edge of his voice.

“I’ve been your doctor for years,” he said gently. “And I know your husband is cheating on you while you were barely hanging on to life. While you were suffering.”

His voice grew heavier, laced with restrained anger.

“He’s been helping Jemma, comforting her, while you were dying. And from what I discovered, he’s been using you, Priscilla. Treating you like a servant in your own home. He doesn’t care about you. Not the way he should.”

My chest tightened. I clenched the bed sheet with shaking fingers. I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down, I already knew. I had always known.

“That’s why I think it’s for the best that you left your house… and thank God I found you when I did,” Dr. Romano continued. “I was actually planning to visit you that night, to talk to you, to check up on you. But when I saw you, you were on the road—barely breathing.”

His words were harsh, but his voice stayed calm, like he was trying to soften the truth.

I stared into nothing, stunned. Then memories started pouring in—Jemma. That woman. I had always pitied her. Lucas said she was sick, bedridden. But now I remembered something that shattered everything: Jemma wasn’t sick at all. She was faking it.

“She’s been lying,” I whispered.

Dr. Romano nodded. “She came to me, asking for a medical report to convince Lucas. She begged me to lie for her. I couldn’t tell you before because you were dying…”

He sat beside me on the edge of the bed, his presence calm yet firm.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked.

I shook my head, overwhelmed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t have the power to fight them. I’ve always been the one left behind.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

His words stopped me.

He reached for my hand and gently took it in his. Then he leaned closer.

I could smell him—clean, expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely. The scent made my heart race.

Our faces were inches apart.

I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

“Dr. Romano… what are you doing?” I asked, breathless.

“That’s why I saved your life,” he said. “You need to go back.”

“What? No—”

He shook his head. “Not to return to the pain. You need to go back and show him that you’re more than what he ever thought of you. He thinks you’re dead. But you’re not. And don’t you think it’s time you showed them who you really are?”

His voice struck something deep inside me.

My hands curled into fists. My vision darkened with rage.

“Priscilla,” he whispered against my lips, “what are you going to do?”

I slowly looked him in the eyes, madness now consuming me.

“I’m going to make them pay for what they did to me,” I whispered coldly.

I gritted my teeth.

“I will avenge myself.”