Chapter 2: Burned and Betrayed

When Noah slipped into bed, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to sleep. He curled around me, his breath warm on my neck. For a moment, he lingered, almost reverent, before pressing a gentle kiss to my brow and drifting off. But I lay there, wide awake.

The city lights threw shifting shadows across the ceiling, mocking me for being so naïve. I slipped out of his arms and into the study, uncorked a bottle of cabernet, and drank straight from the bottle. The cabernet stained my lips and burned all the way down, but it didn’t numb the ache in my chest.

Because I’m older, because I’m easy—does that mean I’m only good for practice?

My reflection in the window was blurred and unfamiliar. Aubrey, how did you let yourself end up here?

Tears clouded my vision. I didn’t know how much I drank. When I stumbled to the bathroom, I crashed hard to the floor.

Noah jolted awake, finding my side of the bed empty. His voice cut through the fog, sharp and anxious. "Babe, why didn’t you call me when you woke up?"

He smelled the alcohol on me and swore. "Shit! Aubrey, are you out of your mind drinking on your period?"

He only used my full name when he was furious. I just pushed him away, slurring, "Don’t, don’t touch me."

His hand found my forehead—it was burning. His tone softened. "Stop messing around. We’re going to the ER, now."

Weak and hazy, I heard the word "hospital" and suddenly sobered up. "No need for the hospital. I’ll be fine after lying down. Just leave me alone."

He laughed in exasperation, wrapped me in his coat, and carried me out the door. He drove straight to the hospital, signed me in, got my blood drawn, didn’t care that I was in pajamas with wild hair and red, swollen eyes. Before I knew it, the nurse was calling my name.

"Patient 17, Aubrey Williams, please come in."

Noah half-dragged me to the exam room. I dragged my feet, not wanting to go. Suddenly, a lively voice cut through the tension.

"Noah, you guys…"

Noah’s face changed. He let go of me and hurried to a girl in the hallway, eyes flicking over her like she might break.

"What’s wrong? Why are you alone? Who let you out in so little?"

Lila pouted, covering her face. "Oh, it’s just a hormone thing. The doctor said, get a boyfriend and it’ll be fine. Not like some people…"

She shot me a look. Noah tapped her on the head, scolding, "What are you thinking? She’s my coworker."

He took off his coat and draped it over her seat, then unhesitatingly grabbed my only coat to cover her legs. "No more short skirts, okay?"

Lila pouted again. "I just wanted to look cute. Isn’t that what guys like?"

"Who told you that? Nothing cute about it. Don’t let anyone see. I’ll take you home."

Not once did Noah look back at me. Their banter was easy, familiar. Noah always wanted me to dress sexy for parties, even when I hated it—said he wanted others to envy him. But with Lila, he wanted to hide her away, protect her from the world. That was the difference between being a plaything and being someone’s everything.

I bit my lip and went into the exam room. The doctor’s face was kind but serious.

"Aubrey, you have polycystic ovary syndrome. You’re about four weeks pregnant. We need to talk about your options—do you want to try to keep the pregnancy, or consider ending it?"

The clinical light made everything feel cold and unreal. My ears rang as she spoke. "Whatever you decide, do it soon."

When I left the exam room, my vision swam and I almost fainted. A nurse caught me. Because my health was so poor, the hospital required a family member to stay with me. I called Noah—again and again. No answer. Finally, his phone was off.

The emptiness was suffocating. After a few hours, they let me go. I stepped out into the biting wind, shivering. Noah had taken my only coat, and the cold gnawed at my bones. Alone, I trudged home, replaying the doctor’s words. I had to decide. Soon.

Two days later. That would be fast enough.