After the statement was released, the hospital room finally returned to a forced calm.

Davon spoke softly, his tone tender and reassuring. "It's over now."

Mom held a bowl of homemade soup and gently lifted a spoon to Natalie's lips, while Dad carefully sliced apples and handed them to her piece by piece.

I stood nearby, watching the warm little scene unfold, feeling like an outsider.

Natalie glanced at me, eyes filled with smug triumph, the corners of her mouth curving into a victorious smile.

I turned away silently, ready to leave.

Davon said coldly. "Hold it. You ruined Natalie's wedding. You think you can just walk away from this?"

My body went rigid and I stopped in my tracks, waiting for him to continue.

"Before the transplant is done, you're staying at the mansion. No going out, and no visitors. Hand over your phone while you're at it."

He paused and added, "You'll post a public apology on the family's official page every day until the wedding is rescheduled. The guards will make sure you do."

I nodded without argument. He seemed surprised that I accepted this so quietly, his brow furrowing in annoyance at something he could not quite name.

With that, I pressed my lips together and turned to leave.

As Davon watched my back disappear down the hallway, he felt confused. He had thought I would react the way I always did before: crying and fighting, refusing to accept punishment.

This time, I was entirely obedient. Compliant.

...

The next morning, I stayed in my room and wrote out the first public apology. Then, I sent it to the butler for review and posting. There were no excuses, no accusations–just clean, simple sentences.

Tears soaked through the paper as I wrote.

By the third day, my child quietly left my body as a pool of blood. The doctor had warned me long ago that my body could not carry the baby to term.

I cleaned up the blood quietly; my dry eyes could no longer produce tears.

...

On the day of the surgery, Davon's bodyguards brought me to the hospital.

When he saw me, he frowned slightly. "You've lost so much weight. What happened?"

He paused, then added gently, "It's okay. After the surgery, I'll make sure you recover properly."

I nodded softly, but I murmured softly, 'You don't need to.'

Outside the operating room, my parents and Davon clustered around Natalie, offering comfort and care with every word they spoke.

I lay on the other stretcher nearby, coughing so hard my chest burned. I covered my mouth, my face pale.

Nobody even turned to look at me.

"Don't be nervous, Nattie. The surgery will go perfectly," said Mom, gripping Natalie's hand with worry etched across her face.

"Davon, after the surgery is over, you two should take a proper honeymoon," Dad added with a smile.

Davon looked at Natalie tenderly and nodded. "Of course. We'll do whatever you suggest."

They laughed and talked happily while I lay there, as if I did not exist at all.

Eventually, it was my turn for surgery. As I was wheeled into the operating room, the harsh white lights glared down at me. My heart went completely cold.

The room was freezing. I lay on the table as the surgical lamp shone above me, blindingly bright, while the instruments around me clinked in sterile rhythm.

"Begin the procedure," the surgeon, Stephen Banks, said in a calm, measured voice.

Before long, the anesthesia began to flow through my veins. My consciousness started to blur, and the sounds around me grew distant and muddled.

"Wait, what's this?" Stephen suddenly exclaimed in alarm.

I struggled to keep my heavy eyelids open, but all I could see was panic spreading across their faces.

Someone whispered urgently, "Hold on... Something's wrong with her kidneys."

Another voice, lower and more alarmed, cut through. "She only has one kidney. The transplant risk is extremely high."

I heard the sound of medical charts being flipped through, papers rustling. "And… she has end-stage lung cancer."

A nurse beside me kept reviewing my medical records and suddenly gasped. "She also shows signs of a previous miscarriage in her uterus."

I thought about my child, and my gaze softened for just a moment before it went cold again. My child had been my only hope in this life, and even that, I could not keep.

Then came the urgent shouts. "She's bleeding! Apply pressure! Hurry!"

The voices echoed and scattered around me. I felt as though I was at the bottom of the ocean, unable to hear clearly, yet only able to feel the overwhelming cold.

I thought of my child, how I wanted to give them a name.

It was all too late.

My mind drifted to my parents, to Davon. Their names slipped through my mind one by one, light as dust.

In the chaos, one voice suddenly came very close, as if pressed against my ear, and it was broken.

"Eve..."

I wanted to laugh, thinking that maybe this was what peace felt like.

The white light slowly closed in around me. I shut my eyes, and the world became quiet.