My wife's first love fell seriously ill.

To save him, she gave away the kidney donor that was meant for me.

Afraid I would cause a scene at the hospital, she locked me inside our home.

Day after day, she stayed by his bedside, cooking for him, caring for him, never leaving his side.

All she left for me was a box of stale biscuits… and expired milk.

A month later, she finally opened the door.

"Have you thought it through?"

I looked at her, pale and desperate. "If I don't get that transplant, I'll die."

"Why are you talking about dying?" she snapped. "You've endured this for so long already. A little more pain won't kill you. Are you trying to scare me?"

"But Vincent is different. He's never been able to handle pain. Can't you be more understanding?"

"Understand…"

I nodded stiffly.

Then, I walked out, without looking back.

Only for her to be stabbed multiple times… yet still refuse to let go of my hand!

Getting up was a struggle. I just wanted to walk out of the bedroom and find something to drink.

It had been days since I had a single sip of warm water.

When Diana Shaw locked me in this room, she left me nothing but a jug of milk that had expired months ago.

The milk ran out long ago. With nothing else to drink, I'd been forcing myself to cup water straight from the bathroom tap.

"Get back here! Did I say you could leave?"

Diana's fury was immediate. She grabbed me by the arm and wrenched me back with all her strength.

I had no strength left in my body. A dull cramp throbbed deep in my stomach. Caught off guard, I stumbled into the corner of the desk.

"You've been sick like this for a long time, and you've been fine, haven't you? You've already held on this long. What does another month or two matter before we find a donor kidney? Why are you throwing a tantrum at me?"

The impact left my arm numb and aching. But as sharp as the pain was, it felt like it was coming from somewhere else entirely.

I slowly raised my eyes and looked at the woman I had loved for so many years.

There was a hollow in my chest.

During all those days trapped inside this room, I had never stopped asking myself the same question.

Was I really this worthless? What did I mean to Diana Shaw… what did I mean to her at all?

Diana studied my silence, her brows knitting slightly as she finally looked at me more closely.

"Nathan Cole, are you trying to threaten me by starving yourself?"

"After all these years together, you should know, I don't respond to that. I don't take that kind of thing."

I lowered my eyes.

After all those years with Diana, there were far too many things I had not known. And this was just one of them.

I swallowed. The bitterness in my throat refused to go down.

"Diana, I only want to ask you one thing."

"You locked me in here. You sealed the windows and took my phone, did you plan from the beginning to give my kidney to Vincent Ward? You didn't leave me any food or water. Did you ever think about how I was supposed to survive? Did you deliberately ignore the fact that I need dialysis? I–"

"That's enough! Why do you have so much to say?"

Diana waved her hand impatiently, then bent down and shoved the trash can in front of me.

"What's this? Huh? Look at it. You cleaned it out completely, and now you're accusing me of trying to starve you?"

My eyes stung. I raised my thin hand and wiped my face roughly.

Then I turned and walked out of the room without looking back.

"Where are you going? I'm not finished talking!"

Diana followed right behind me, but as soon as she stepped out, she froze.

In the living room, on the massage chair I had bought for myself…

A man was lying there.

He saw us come out and quickly hit pause on whatever he was watching, scrambling to his feet.

The instant Diana spotted him, she shoved me aside and rushed forward.

"Slowly! What's the rush? Don't you know you just had surgery? You need to be careful with every little movement!"

Diana transformed in an instant. The rage was gone, replaced by something soft and playful, her voice taking on the lilting warmth of a woman besotted.

"Diana, don't worry, I'm fine. But I heard everything you and Nathan were saying just now."

"Nathan, what happened here is all on Diana. She did this without telling me. When I found out, I felt terrible. I had no idea she'd go to such lengths for my sake. I'm honestly devastated, and I feel so guilty. What if I did this, what if I got down on my knees and thanked you properly, from the bottom of my heart?"

Vincent Ward had just come through major surgery, yet his color was rosy and full.

That was the health I had been waiting so long to reclaim. And now he stood here, claiming he had not known a thing.

I stared at him, the blood gone from my face, not blinking.

I was just about to speak when another voice beat me to it.

"Vincent! What's all this talk about kneeling? Why would you kneel to him?

"Nathan has been sick for a long time. He's used to it by now. Don't blame yourself. What you need is rest. Go lie back down. I'll go pick up a whole chicken later and make you a proper restorative broth.

"Diana, you've already done so much. This whole month, you've been taking care of me around the clock. Your own mother said she couldn't have done it better.

"You even put me in a VIP room and cooked for me every day in that little kitchen, experimenting with all those nourishing recipes. I don't even know how to begin to thank you."

Vincent's voice cracked with emotion. He stepped forward and seized my hand.

"Nathan, I genuinely envy you. A wife like Diana, she's remarkable. You can't keep taking her for granted the way you did before. She deserves better."

My heart was bitter as gall. I pulled my hand free.

Was I taking Diana for granted?

When my illness worsened, when I was at my most fragile, when I needed her most… she had been at Vincent's bedside, night and day, barely sleeping, barely stopping.

All because Vincent had only just been diagnosed. He was scared. He was in pain. He could not take it.

The donor kidney I had fought so hard and waited so long for, she had tricked the doctors into transferring to him instead.

Every word out of Vincent's mouth felt like a blade twisting in my chest. And Diana was the one who had handed him the knife.

I smiled–a hollow, wretched thing. "Is that so? If she's that wonderful, she's all yours."

I turned and walked toward the door.

This apartment was suffocating me. If I stayed any longer, I wouldn't make it out alive.

However, even now, Diana would not let me go.

The moment my fingers touched the door handle…

Her voice rose behind me.

"Nathan, are you out of your mind? What filth is coming out of your mouth? Is that really how your mind works? You think everything is dirty?

"Vincent and I are nothing more than friends, the purest kind!"

The pale smirk on my face deepened. "The purest kind? Sure."

Smack!

My head snapped to the side. I slowly lowered my gaze.

Diana stared at her own hand in disbelief, then looked at me in panic. "I… Nathan, I didn't mean to. I was just angry. Yes–you were talking nonsense, that's why I reacted!"

I blinked slowly. I wanted to hit back, but the ringing in my ears grew louder and louder.

I reached out, desperate to grab onto something, but there was nothing.

As I fell forward toward Diana, I watched–clearly, helplessly–as Vincent lunged with frantic urgency and snatched her out of the way.

"Diana, look out!"

When I came back to myself, there was a nasal cannula in my nose and something clipped to my finger.

The monitors beeped steadily at my ear.

Diana was not in the room.

I pulled off the leads and the clip and shuffled slowly out into the hallway.

The moment I opened the door, I heard sounds coming from the stairwell.

Diana's voice.

The stairwell was dim. Diana was pressed close against Vincent, his arm wrapped tight around her.

"God, Diana, I was terrified just now. I thought he was going to hit you. If he had actually laid a hand on you–kidney or no kidney, no matter what he gave up for me, I swear I would've beaten him to a pulp."

Diana's face flushed. She pushed lightly against his chest. "He'd never actually hit me. You're overthinking it, Vincent. Besides, you're right here, aren't you?"

"Diana… I've been regretting it ever since. If I hadn't left back then, if I'd stayed… would things have turned out differently? We wouldn't have missed all those years."

I let out a short, quiet laugh.

Then I watched as Vincent tilted his head down and kissed her, stopping whatever words had been rising to her lips.

"Excuse me, aren't you the patient in bed thirteen? What are you doing standing out here?"

The sudden voice behind me made the woman in the stairwell flinch.

Diana shoved the door open, not even having time to wipe the tears from her face.

She frowned at me. "Nathan, what are you doing out of bed?"

I held her gaze for a long moment, then shifted my eyes to Vincent, who was wearing a satisfied little smile.

With Diana distracted, he had finally stopped pretending.

"And what about you?" The nurse turned sharply to Diana. "How are you watching a patient? He's ripped out his cardiac monitor and wandered off, and you didn't even notice? The doctor's been calling for you, where have you been?"

Diana swallowed and said nothing.

I turned and went back to my room. Diana followed.

The doctor did not wait for her. He came to my room himself.

"Nathan, your condition is this serious. Why did you wait so long before coming to the hospital?"

I pressed my lips together, unsure how to answer.

Diana spoke up before I could, her voice carrying an air of genuine bewilderment. "Hasn't he always been like this? He's been on dialysis for years. Even in the hospital, it's just IV fluids and anti-inflammatory treatment. Isn't going to a clinic near home basically the same?"

I looked at her without expression.

All those years, I had rushed home early from appointments so she would not worry. Running back and forth to the hospital was inconvenient, and Diana had just started a new job and could not easily take time off, so I had quietly arranged to get my IV drips at a small clinic around the corner.

When I finished early enough, I would stop by the supermarket next door and buy groceries to cook her favorite dishes.

We had been married for years. And I had never known, until now, that Diana could make chicken broth.

The ache in my chest expanded, hollow and raw.

"The same? How can that be the same?" the doctor snapped. "The test results were already explained to you as his family member. His condition is very serious. His metabolism is severely impaired. How is a grown man this malnourished? Are you not feeding him at home?"

Diana stood there as the doctor scolded her, her face shifting between pale and flushed.

Of course, she would not dare tell anyone what she had done to me.

Even if I spoke up, it would not bring back the kidney that was already gone.

I lay there, exhausted, staring at the ceiling.

Beside me, Diana frowned as she flipped through my test results, page after page.

In that moment, I understood.

Before this, she had never really looked at them. She had never truly listened to what the doctor said.