Chapter 6

Leah's POV

The next afternoon, I came home and stopped dead in the doorway of the courtyard.

The garden was a wreck.

Several groundskeepers were swinging shovels, tearing out the Juliet roses I had planted with my own hands. Roots and all.

Those roses had taken me two years. Two years of research, careful cultivation, trial and error.

Ethan had once told me I was like those roses, delicate but resilient.

They were supposed to be a symbol of what we had.

But now they were being tossed onto the ground like garbage. Petals broken and scattered, roots still clotted with soil.

"What are you doing?" My voice came out unsteady.

The butler walked over, looking uncomfortable. "Ma'am, Mr. Faulkner gave the order. He said Ms. Sutton has been having trouble sleeping. The doctor recommended lavender to help her relax, so Mr. Faulkner asked us to remove the roses and replace them with lavender imported from France."

The breath knocked out of me.

For Clara's sleep, he had destroyed two years of my work without a second thought.

Just then, a black car rolled into the driveway.

Ethan stepped out. He saw me standing in the middle of the ruined garden, my face white.

He walked over, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're home. Clara's insomnia has flared up again. The rose scent is too strong for her. I had them switched out for lavender. If you like flowers that much, I'll buy you a place out in the countryside tomorrow, just for your roses."

I looked at him.

My eyes were dry. There was nothing left in them. Just a vast, quiet blankness.

"It's fine." My voice came out barely above a whisper, thin as smoke. "They wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway."

Just like my love for him.

Already torn out by the roots.

Already dead.

Eight days until I leave.

My stomach gave out.

I had been feeling a dull ache there for a few days, but I hadn't thought much of it. Assumed it was just stress or something I'd eaten.

Then, late that night, the pain hit without warning. Violent. Like something was twisting and tearing inside me all at once.

I fell off the bed. I ended up curled on the floor, drenched in cold sweat, my body shaking.

I pressed my teeth together and fumbled for my phone on the nightstand with trembling hands.

I called Ethan.

It rang for a long time before he picked up.

"Yeah?" His voice was clipped. Impatient.

"Ethan." My voice was barely a sound. "My stomach hurts. I need you to come home. I need to go to the hospital."

A beat of silence.

Then Clara's voice came through. "Ethan, please don't go. I'm scared. Stay with me."

And Ethan's tone shifted. Instantly. Completely. Into something gentle and warm. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Then he turned back to me, his voice cold. "Leah. Clara had a rough night. I can't leave. Take something for the pain, or have the driver take you to the hospital. And stop pulling this kind of thing. Trying to compete for attention. It's beneath you."

He hung up.

I lay there listening to the silence after the call ended, and I closed my eyes.

Competing for attention.

To him, me lying on the floor in agony was nothing but a tactic to steal his focus from Clara.

I didn't call back.

Fighting through the pain, I dialed 911 myself.

The ambulance came.

At the hospital, the ER doctor's face went serious after the examination. "Acute gastric perforation. She needs surgery immediately. Where's her family? We need a family member to sign."

I was lying on the gurney, my face the color of ash, cold sweat sliding down my temples.

I opened my eyes, looked at the doctor, and smiled. The kind that looks worse than crying.

"Doctor, there's no family. I'll sign for myself."

The doctor looked at me for a moment. Something shifted in his expression.

"Alright. She'll sign herself. Let's get her prepped."