Chapter 2

2

I knew Evie was always the only one for Gavin. I was just a placeholder, a substitute he used for three years. It was time to give his life back to her.

When Evie left the country years ago, Gavin went off the rails. He searched everywhere for women who looked like her.

I looked the most like her. I was also the most submissive and obedient. After years of my devoted company, Gavin finally gave me his last name.

But the night before our wedding, I overheard him talking to his friends.

"If the woman I'm marrying isn't Evie, then it doesn't matter who she is."

I was standing right outside the door. I didn't even have the right to be angry.

I loved him so much I had lost myself. Losing him was a fate worse than his indifference.

On our wedding day, a single phone call from Evie sent him running. He left me alone in the middle of the ballroom, looking like a lost child.

I should have known then that no one could replace her.

Evie even sent me a text to rub it in.

"A fake is just a fake. I snap my fingers, and Gavin comes running like a dog. How does it feel to have a wedding for one?"

I bit my lip so hard it bled. It felt like a hole had been ripped through my chest. I asked her why she didn't just marry him if she was back.

Her reply made me feel like a pathetic clown.

"Marry him? Are you joking? Gavin is just one of many guys chasing me. I'm not giving up the whole forest for one tree. Marriage is boring. Only an idiot like you would cling to a man who doesn't love her."

When Gavin came home that night, he asked for a divorce. I refused. I showed him the texts from Evie. I wanted him to see that his precious first love was just using him as a backup.

Gavin just knocked the phone out of my hand. He looked at me like I was a monster.

"Rory, I didn't think you'd go this far. You made a fake account just to smear Evie's name? Your heart is as black as coal.

"Fine. If you want to rot in the position of Mrs. Zeller so badly, stay. But don't expect a single drop of love from me. I won't touch you."

That was when I realized it didn't matter what Evie did. As long as she existed, Gavin would love her with everything he had.

"Gavin, I want some of your homemade walnut shortbread."

Evie's voice snapped me back to the present. They were acting like a lovesick couple in the middle of the hospital hallway. People passed by, looking at them with envy and admiration.

Gavin smiled warmly and pinched her nose.

"Of course. I'll make some for you as soon as the doctors say you can eat solids."

The pain in my soul intensified. Years ago, I used to stalk Evie's social media. I found a post from a decade ago where she bragged about Gavin's walnut shortbread.

I knew how hard it was to make. Gavin hated tedious tasks. He was always too busy with hospital business to do anything domestic.

Once, I was foolish enough to ask him to make some for me. He just glared at me coldly.

"Do I look like I have free time? Do you have any idea how valuable my hands are?"

But now, he promised Evie without a second thought. His hands were precious, but he'd spend hours cracking walnuts for her.

He'd even use those hands to cut me open and steal my kidney.

Love and indifference have never been so clear.

Gavin wheeled Evie toward the VIP wing. Halfway there, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hospital.

"My daughter! Why did you leave me? How am I supposed to live without you?"

I recognized that voice. It was my mother. My soul shook with her cries.

It turned out that even ghosts can feel their hearts break.

Gavin paused for a second, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to recognize the sound.

"Gavin? What's wrong?" Evie asked, clutching his hand.

Gavin gave a cold laugh. "Nothing. This hospital is full of flies who love to put on a show."

I watched him push Evie into her room. I smiled weakly.

He knew that was my mother. He just thought we were both acting.

He called my mother a fly. How ironic.

He had no idea that my corpse was being rolled right past Evie's door. My mother had collapsed on the floor outside the OR, unable to even stand.