Chapter 6: Second Chances

After that showdown, Jason starts showing up to the hospital later and later. When he finally does, he looks rough—like he hasn’t slept in days, shadows under his eyes, the spark in him dimmed.

One night, when the guards are on a break, he knocks softly on my door: “Can I come in?”

I’m at the small desk, surrounded by medical textbooks. At the sound, I scramble to hide them, sending a couple clattering to the floor.

Jason enters and stoops to pick them up. He pauses when he reads the covers: Orthopedics. Bone Repair. Physical Therapy.

He looks up, a flicker of hope breaking through his exhaustion.

“These books...?”

“I told you, I’ll cure your leg.” I try to sound as reassuring as possible, stacking the books neatly. “Don’t worry. I’ve found a top orthopedic professor. Soon you’ll be back on stage.”

But Jason doesn’t seem cheered. In fact, he looks even more defeated. I know why: the compensation hanging over his head, threatening to crush him before he can dream of recovery.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, feigning concern though I know exactly what’s eating him.

“Nothing. You should rest—don’t read too much.”

“You look exhausted. Why not quit your job? I’ve already made progress contacting the professor. Treatment can start soon.”

Jason hesitates, then lets his guard down. “About the accident—the plant wants me to pay compensation. I’ve been working overtime, hoping to pay it off quickly.”

I seize the moment to drop my idea. “How long will that take? Have you thought of other ways?”

Jason falls silent, clearly at a loss.

I shift in my seat, making it sound like a passing thought. “I was going to ask you for a favor, but since you’re so busy, forget it.”

He perks up, desperate to help. “It’s fine, what is it?”

“My bag was burned before, and all my makeup is ruined. I need new stuff. But our little town is so remote—you can’t buy anything decent here.”

“If you want something, you have to go to the city. It’s far, and the transportation’s a pain.”

“Say, if someone brought things from the city and resold them here, wouldn’t that save us all a lot of trouble?”

Jason’s brow furrows as he mulls it over. Slowly, I see the idea click into place. He looks up, excitement dawning. “I’ll go to the city for you first thing tomorrow!”

That’s my Jason—quick on the uptake, sharp as ever. I knew he’d figure it out.

The next evening, Jason bursts in, eyes alight. He starts telling me his plan: research what sells, set up a stall, maybe even rent a storefront one day. For the first time, I saw a spark in his eyes—a flash of the old Jason, the one I’d only ever written about.

I play the supportive friend, encouraging him at every turn. His walls start to crumble. “I was too narrow-minded before. I misunderstood you.”

He actually blushes, ducking his head. “You’re bold and bossy and unreasonable—but that’s just on the surface.”

“For risking your life to save me, I know you have a kind heart.”

Not bad, Nicole. In just a few days, I’ve gone from villainess to his personal cheerleader. But I want more than just a second chance.

Day by day, Jason comes by with news from his little market stall. He’s got the hustle—talks about which products are hot, who his best customers are, even cracks jokes about the local gossip. It’s easy to laugh with him, and I find myself looking forward to his stories.

We’re growing closer, building a kind of friendship—maybe even something more.

One afternoon, I mention casually, “I heard Rachel has been with you from morning till night, working really hard.”

Jason looks startled. “We grew up together and live next door, so we’re close. But I pay her wages—it’s just like hiring her to help.”

I nod, feigning indifference. “Oh? If you didn’t explain, outsiders would easily misunderstand. Even I thought you two were always together—others must think you’re a couple.”

Jason stammers, then tries to clarify, but I cut him off gently. “But she really is a good girl—hardworking, clever, always helping you think of ideas. Having someone to discuss things with saves you from a lot of wrong turns. She’s practically the perfect wife.”

I kept my smile fixed, but my nails dug crescent moons into my palm.

I watch him get flustered, clearly thrown off balance. “She’s a good person, but she hasn’t had much schooling and can only help with odd jobs. A lot of the decisions and direction come from you—you’re the real hero.”

Mr. Grant chooses that moment to drop in with a thermos of soup. He catches the end of the conversation and can’t resist a comment. “Your girlfriend contributed the most. You better not let her down, or people will talk.”

Jason blushes, waving his hands. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He shoots me a look. “I was careless and caused misunderstandings. I’m a guy, so it doesn’t matter, but I’m afraid it’ll ruin her reputation. If it affects her finding a husband in the future, I’ll be in the wrong. I’ll go clear things up right away.”

He hurries out, practically tripping over his own feet.

Mr. Grant raises an eyebrow at me. "If you want, I can make things tough for Rachel—just say the word."

I shoot him a look. “Mr. Grant, this is America. We don’t pull that kind of thing. She hasn’t done anything illegal, and I’m not about to become the town villain.”

“Today, all we need is to give him a little nudge—he’ll get it.”

“Besides manual labor, what else can Rachel offer?”

“Let Jason realize for himself that they’re not the same kind of people.”

Back when I wrote this novel, I thought Rachel was the perfect heroine—sweet, loyal, endlessly supportive. But now, living in this world, I see all kinds of cracks. Her skills and knowledge just can’t keep up with Jason’s drive and ambition.

And honestly—

Jason Young doesn’t know it yet, but this story’s getting a rewrite—and this time, the villain gets the happy ending.