My Kidney His Victory My Silent Goodbye

The day Liam Blackwood won the Super Bowl and was named MVP, I was in the crowd, applauding him through my tears.

During the post-game interview, a reporter asked him:

"Mr. Blackwood, it’s been widely reported that at your lowest point, your former physical therapist—and girlfriend—left you for fame and fortune. Now that you have this championship ring, what, if anything, would you like to say to her?"

Liam’s expression hardened. Staring down the lens, his voice dripped with raw hatred:

"Elara, you said I couldn't give you the spotlight you wanted, so you left. Now, looking at my championship ring and this multi-million dollar contract, do you regret it?"

I gritted my teeth, fighting back the searing pain in my kidney, and whispered to the roaring stadium, "No regrets."

Because when I gave him my kidney, my only wish was for him to live out his dream.

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1

Just as my eyes met Liam’s on the giant screen, my phone vibrated. It was my doctor.

"Elara, what are you doing out? You should be in your hotel room, resting!"

"Your kidney failure is accelerating! You have a month left, at most. Even without a donor or the money for a transplant, the last thing you should be doing is running around!"

I took a shaky breath, silently wiping away the tears that blurred my vision.

Seeing Liam here, at the absolute pinnacle of his career and so vibrant, felt like my last wish had been granted.

"I'm on my way back now."

After hanging up, I started for the hotel. As I descended from the stands, a large entourage swarmed toward me, with Liam at its center.

I tried to slip past them, but a figure suddenly stepped into my path.

"Well, look who it is. Our former star physical therapist, Elara."

"What, you ditch Liam without a word, and now that he's hit the big time, you’re crawling back for a piece of the pie?"

It was Jake Miller, Liam's best friend on the team. He’d had a front-row seat to our entire relationship.

His sarcastic taunt made every head in the corridor turn in my direction.

Liam stopped in his tracks. The moment his eyes locked on me, his confident stride faltered. He stared, silent, as if he, too, was waiting for my answer.

I hid a bitter smile behind a deliberately flippant one.

"What if I said I regret backing the wrong horse? That I want to come back and be the champion's wife? Would you take me back, Liam?"

If there was one thing Liam despised, it was an opportunistic social climber.

As I expected, the words extinguished the last glimmer of warmth in his eyes, replacing it with pure disgust.

"Elara, what makes you think I would ever wait for a woman like you?"

With that, he tightened his arm around his new girlfriend's waist, tilted his chin, and looked down at me as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe.

"Since you're here today, why don't you witness something special? It might shatter any delusions you’re clinging to about us."

Liam pulled a diamond ring from his pocket and, in the next second, dropped to one knee before Sophia Vance.

His eyes were slightly red-rimmed, but his gaze was tender, as if she were his entire world.

"Sophia, for the past four years, you walked me through my darkest times. You helped me stand up again, to face myself, to face the field. This ring might have my name on it, but it was forged from your devotion!"

"Today, I, Liam Blackwood, swear on this ring, on the glory of being a Super Bowl champion, that I want to marry you and only you! Sophia Vance, will you marry me?"

"Marry him! Marry him!"

The romantic spectacle whipped the crowd into a frenzy.

Onlookers cheered, and reporters surged forward, cameras flashing, all vying to capture this moment.

I was shoved aside by the surging bodies. From a distance, I watched Liam place the ring on Sophia's finger after she tearfully nodded, then cup her face for a deep, passionate kiss. My thoughts, however, drifted uncontrollably back four years.

It was the eve of the Super Bowl season four years ago. Liam was in peak condition, with his sights set on the championship.

He had slipped his family heirloom ring onto my hand, held me close, and promised that after winning his first championship, he would propose to me in front of the whole world, making me the happiest woman alive.

My hand had drifted to my stomach then, tears welling in my eyes.

I was already eight weeks pregnant, but not wanting to distract him, I planned to tell him after the season.

However, shortly after the season began, Liam suddenly fell ill. His performance on the field cratered, and he was quickly benched.

Team management was furious. Under immense pressure, I secretly arranged a full physical for him.

"The results are in. It's a rare case of acute kidney failure. Without a transplant, he won't live more than three months."

When the doctor delivered the news, the world tilted on its axis.

I didn’t dare tell Liam. I could only search desperately for a donor while getting myself tested for a match.

Fortunately, the results came back quickly. They found a match for Liam.

It was me.

"Elara, if you agree to the transplant, to ensure the surgery's success… I'm afraid… we can't save the pregnancy."

To save Liam’s life, on an unremarkable afternoon, I said goodbye to our baby.

Our baby was so small, gone before I ever had the chance to know if they were a boy or a girl.

There was no time for grief. A few hours later, the transplant surgery, which I had secretly arranged with his mother, Catherine, began.

The surgery was a complete success. But just as I was planning to hide it all and simply stay by Liam's side, the unexpected happened again.