"What do you mean, 'there’s no point'?"

Callahan Meyer’s jaw locked. His frustration was mounting, despite his best efforts to keep his cool. "I’m your fiancé. You can talk to me! Are you still hung up on the other day? That was on me, I know. I shouldn't have gone off on you about Alexandria, but—"

"Callahan."

Maya Cole opened her eyes. Her gaze was cool, detached, and utterly empty. "Are you finished? Because I’m tired, and I’d like to rest. Thank you for the help."

She pushed his hand away from the blankets, turned, and faced the wall.

Callahan stared at her back. A familiar, suffocating cocktail of frustration and panic surged in his chest. He opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat.

His phone buzzed.

It was Alexandria Rodriguez. Her voice was shredded, thick with tears. "Callahan, where are you? I’m all alone… I’m so scared. My wound is acting up again."

Callahan glanced at Maya. She hadn't moved; she seemed already asleep. He hesitated, then stood up. He muttered a strained, "Get some rest. I’ll be back later," and hurried out of the room.

He showed up every day for the next week, hovering for hours. He tried to care for her, though he was clumsy at it. He talked, he promised, he even offered to whisk her away on a trip once she was discharged—maybe Iceland to see the lights, or some quiet village in Europe she used to talk about.

Maya’s response was always the same: a wall of ice.

"No need," she’d say.

Or, "I’m not interested."

Or, "You should go handle your business."

She was calm, distant, and polite—the way one might speak to a complete stranger.

Finally, after he proposed a trip to France and she brushed him off with a weary, "I’m just too tired," he snapped.

"Maya!" He jumped to his feet, looming over her. His face was a mask of volatile fury and confusion. "What do you want? I apologized! I’m here every single day trying to make this right! What more can you possibly want from me?"

Silence filled the room, thick and heavy.

Maya slowly lifted her eyes. She studied his sharp, handsome face—now twisted into something ugly and unrecognizable—for a long, quiet moment.

"I want you to leave," she said.

Callahan froze. "...What?"

"I said," Maya enunciated, her voice steady and sharp as a blade, "get out of my room. Get out of my sight. And never show your face here again."

Callahan reeled as if she’d slapped him. He stared at her, chest heaving, his face drained of all color.

"Maya Cole! Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

She didn't blink. She opened her mouth to repeat herself, but the door flew open before she could.

Peter and Martha Cole burst in, dragging a sobbing Alexandria behind them.

"Callahan! It’s a disaster!" Martha wailed. "Something happened to Alexandria!"

Callahan pushed his shock aside and turned to them, brow furrowed. "What happened? Talk to me!"

Peter was sweating, his eyes wild with panic. "Alexandria… she went out for drinks with some friends, and there was a brawl. She accidentally cracked someone’s skull open. The police are downstairs—they’re coming to arrest her!"

Alexandria hid behind her mother, shivering. "Callahan… I didn't mean to. I’m so scared. I can't go to jail…"

Callahan’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice controlled. "Is the injury bad? If it’s minor, we can settle it with a private agreement. I’ll call my lawyer right now. I’ll get her out of the station by morning, don't worry."

"That won’t work, Callahan!" Martha grabbed his arm, sobbing. "She’s so fragile! A holding cell—it’s cold, it’s filthy, and she’ll be locked up with criminals. She’ll fall apart!"

Peter added his own panicked pleas, then glanced at Maya, who was lying motionless on the bed. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but he pushed it down.

"Maya," Peter said, his voice dropping. "Maya is physically stronger than Alexandria, and she’s… she’s always been more resilient. Why don't you have her take the fall? Just for a few days. Once you smooth everything over, you can just bring her home."

Callahan stared at him, stunned. "Peter! She just had a miscarriage! She was severely injured only days ago!"

But Alexandria grabbed onto the idea like a life raft. She lunged at Callahan, burying her tear-streaked face into his shirt. "Callahan, please… I’m so scared. My sister… she’s always been the strong one, right? Maya, please help me. Just this once. I’m begging you."

Callahan looked at Alexandria’s terrified face, then back at Maya, who lay on the bed, eyes closed, silent.

His internal battle was brutal.

On one side, the pathetic, desperate sobbing of the woman he loved. On the other, that quiet, gnawing sense of repulsion he’d been fighting for days.

A sharp knock at the door signaled the police. Two officers entered, badges glinting in the harsh hospital light. "Who is Alexandria Rodriguez? Please come with us to the station to assist with the investigation."

Alexandria let out a shrill, terrified scream and buried herself deeper into Callahan’s chest.

Her parents begged the officers, their eyes darting between Callahan and the bed.

Callahan’s temple throbbed. He looked at Alexandria’s trembling shoulders. He looked at the pleading faces of her parents.

Finally, slowly, with a hollow deliberation, he nodded.

He pointed a shaking hand toward the bed. "She is Alexandria Rodriguez."