"Really?!"

Her mentor's voice shot through the phone.

Leah gripped it tighter, that bitter taste crawling up her throat.

God, she'd been such an idiot. Elio Vezzaro was the guy in wood sculpture—his stuff sold for wild money. People would kill to be his apprentice.

And she gave it up... all because Ian once said, "Leah, I don't like long-distance relationships."

She thought it meant he couldn't bear being away from her. Thought it was love.

That sweet little lie made it all seem worth it.

Now she knew—he didn't love her. Just her face. The one that looked too much like Cecilia's.

"I'll be there on time in seven days, Prof. Calvo."

She hung up.

Ian had just finished his call, too.

As she walked in and headed upstairs, he said, "To help with the pregnancy prep, Cecilia... she'll be staying in the guest room from now on."

He rushed it out. "Don't take it the wrong way! I don't have a choice. She's a wreck—might do something stupid if she's alone. And... my parents want it, too."

Leah paused. His twitchy look said everything. The corner of her mouth lifted.

"Got it."

What was he scrambling to cover?

Her cool tone made something twist in his chest. Then he noticed her soaked clothes—and remembered.

He was supposed to pick her up. Totally forgot once Cecilia spiraled.

He moved toward her, guilt bubbling—

Then Cecilia threw herself at him.

"Ian, I dreamed of Andrew! He's mad I'm still here. I should've died! Why'd you stop me? Why won't you let me go?"

She bolted.

Ian grabbed her, wrapped her up, voice soft and full of pity. "It was just a nightmare. Nightmares mean the opposite, remember?"

Leah watched them clinging to each other.

She closed her eyes. Just for a second. Then turned and walked upstairs.

Of course he didn't come home that night.

While he was out, Leah pulled her suitcase from the closet and started packing. Quiet, slow. One piece at a time.

By dawn, it was back in the closet. She stepped into the hallway.

Passing the guest room, she stopped cold.

Inside, Ian sat by Cecilia's bed, eyes soft—softer than Leah had ever seen.

Not once. Not for her.

For a second, the last few years flashed through her mind.

Year one—she had a 102 fever, could barely stand. He left after one call. Said it was work. She heard Cecilia's voice in the background.

Year two—business dinner. She got pushed into drink after drink, ended up with a bleeding stomach. Ian disappeared halfway through—another message from Cecilia.

Year three. Four. Five...

Same script, every time.

She used to think it was all just bad timing.

Now she saw it clear.

Tears welled up, but she wiped them away before they fell.

Seven more days. Then she'd be gone.

***

At breakfast, Ian and Cecilia were already out.

Leah headed to her atelier, just picked up her carving knife when her phone lit up—Cassie.

[Leah! You won't believe this! I just saw Ian with his sister-in-law at the fertility clinic! Didn't his brother just die?! What's going on?!]

Photos popped up right after—every angle.

Ian had his arms around Cecilia, looking every bit the doting husband.

A sharp hiss—

Leah's carving knife slipped, slicing across her hand before she even realized it.

Blood dripped from her palm—straight onto the wooden sculpture at her feet.

It was Ian. She'd carved it herself.

He used to tease, "Can't live without me, huh?"

"Mm. You have to keep me company while I work."

Now, staring at the blood-smeared thing, Leah picked it up, walked outside, and dumped it in the trash.

She'd never need him again.

When Ian brought Cecilia home that night, he hesitated. Leah was eating alone.

She used to wait up for him, no matter how late. He'd told her not to—she never listened.

Now? Watching her eat solo like it was nothing, something twisted in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cecilia tugged his arm.

"Ian, should we tell Leah about tomorrow's plans?"

He turned to her. "Doctor said she's too tense lately—it might mess with the IVF. She needs to chill. She likes diving, so we're going."

Leah stood up, headed upstairs. "Go ahead."

She wasn't about to play along with their charade.

Ian caught up before she could shut the door, yanking her hand hard. "Leah, I know you hate the IVF thing, but Cecilia's innocent! Why are you taking it out on her?"

She dropped her gaze. The cut on her finger split open under his grip, bleeding through the bandage.

All she'd said was no—and he was already jumping to defend the woman he loved.

"Ian, she's your sister-in-law. Your brother's wife."

That landed like a slap. He flinched, then snapped, shaking her off. "Leah, you're disgusting! I told you—it's just IVF! Nothing happened!

"My parents want Andrew to have a kid! I can't let them die heartbroken, or let him be forgotten! Why can't you get that, just once?"

Leah didn't answer. Just looked at him, quiet, while he tried to convince himself.

Finally, he turned away, guilt flickering in his eyes as he walked out.

Leah unwrapped the gauze. Blood pooled up again.

Once, even a paper cut on her hand used to freak him out. Now? He didn't even notice this one.

What Cecilia really was to him—sister-in-law or something else—only he knew.

***

The next morning, Ian ignored Leah's protests and shoved her into the car. He and Cecilia took the front seats, leaving her stuck in the back.

He used to hate talking while driving—said it wasn't safe.

Now he and Cecilia were cracking up the whole ride.

Off the coast, they changed into wetsuits and dove in.

Half an hour later, Cecilia popped up. "Leah, you coming in?"

She shook her head. "I can't swim."

"Oh, really—"

Cecilia suddenly grabbed her wrist. "Come on! Don't be lame!"

Next thing Leah knew, she was yanked straight into the water.

Leah gasped, panic hitting hard as she reached out—Cecilia was already gone.

Cold seawater shot up her nose, filled her mouth. Her body sank fast, out of control.

"Help! Ian! Help!"

She thrashed, choking, until a figure sliced through the waves—Ian, eyes wide. "Leah, don't freak out! I'm coming!"

Then a scream cut in behind him.

"Ian! My leg—cramp! I can't move!"

He froze.

Cecilia was flailing, halfway under.

Through the blur, Leah saw Ian glance at her—just once—then turn and swim straight for Cecilia.

His back vanished into the waves.

Her arms dropped. Whatever strength she had left drained out.

As she sank, Leah closed her eyes, a faint, bitter smile tugging at her lips.

What had she even been hoping for?

Leah jolted awake, gasping.

The dream still clung—waves crashing in, pulling her under. No way out. She barely caught her breath before someone bolted over.

"Leah, are you okay? You scared me to death!"

Ian.

Before she could say a word, he kept rambling. "Don't blame Cecilia, okay? She just wanted you to try diving. She didn't know you'd freak out. She got a cramp and almost drowned too. So... let's just call it even."

Seriously? That was the first thing out of his mouth?

Her chest tightened. She stared at him. "Ian, I almost died. Do you even hear yourself?"

How could he say something like this?

Ian frowned. "Why are you being so dramatic? You didn't die, did you? Cecilia almost drowned too—doesn't that even things out?

"What, you want her dead just to feel better? You were never this unreasonable, Leah. Quit making a big deal out of nothing."

A big deal out of nothing...

Because unless she died, it didn't count.

And if she had? He'd probably still say the same thing.

She laughed under her breath and turned away. "I want to rest."

"Fine. Figure it out yourself." He walked out without a glance.

He didn't come back for two days.

When the nurse came in to swap her IV, she smiled. "The couple next door is so cute. Husband hasn't left her side since the near-drowning. Makes me wanna fall in love too."

Leah gripped the IV stand and stepped into the hallway.

Yep. There he was. Ian. Sitting by Cecilia's bed, slicing apples and feeding her like some budget prince charming.

She thought she could handle this. Nope. Her chest twisted hard.

She turned to leave—froze.

Cecilia was holding something.

Leah stormed in, yanking it from her hands. "This is my competition piece! Where did you get this?!"

Cecilia flinched, curling into Ian like some damsel on cue. "Ian..."

He blinked, then instantly wrapped an arm around her. Of course. "I brought it. She said she liked it, so I let her see it. What's the big deal? You're talented, right? You'll make another. No need to yell and scare her."

"Make another one?" Leah's voice cracked. "I spent four months on this."

Four months. No sleep, skipped meals, even blacked out once. And he—

Ian's expression darkened. "It's just a competition. So what if you skip it? You've already won a bunch. One less won't kill you."

She stared at the ruined carving, vision blurring.

"Ian, what am I to you? Did you ever love me? Even a little? Or was it always her?"

Their voices echoed down the hallway. A few nurses stopped by the door.

Ian jumped up. "What are you even saying? You've completely lost it! Come on, we're going to the doctor. I care about not making a scene—even if you don't."

He reached for her. She jerked back. "Don't touch me!"

The IV ripped out. Blood pooled fast in her hand.

Ian froze. "Leah, you—"

"I'm fine."

Expression blank, she pressed her palm to the bleeding spot, crimson slipping through her fingers. "You two continue what you were doing."