Vienna Cruz got into a fender-bender and spent the entire time hysterical, sobbing over the phone.

Desmond Knight bolted to her side, and he didn’t set foot back home for an entire week.

I didn’t feel a thing. I spent the time packing my bags, handing in my resignation, and taking a flight out to tour the new office at the Southside Branch.

I walked through the front door just as Desmond was coming in.

He was carrying a cake.

"It's your birthday today. You didn't forget, did you?"

I flashed him a smile. "Actually, I completely did."

Desmond tipped his chin toward his briefcase, a silent cue that there was more. Inside, nestled in a blue velvet square box, was a unique, pear-shaped diamond ring. Beside it lay a Cartier bracelet.

"Thanks, Desmond," I said, fastening the bracelet onto my wrist. "It’s the latest collection."

Desmond’s eyes scanned my face, searching for a reaction. "Do you like it?"

I grinned and nodded. "Of course I do."

"Wishing you success with your proposal, by the way!" I took a massive, indulgent bite of the cake.

The pain in my stomach kicked in at midnight.

I dressed in silence and caught a ride to the ER.

Once I was in the car, my phone buzzed. It was Desmond. "Where are you? I made you some hawthorn tea."

"I'm in a cab. Heading to the hospital."

His tone sharpened with urgency. "Why didn't you call me?"

I froze.

Why didn't I call him?

In the past, if I even had a mild stomachache in the middle of the night, I would have been stumbling over to his bedside, tugging on the hem of his pajama shirt. Desmond, it hurts, I’d whimper.

He would grumble about me being a nuisance, but he’d still get up to brew that tea. He’d wrap me in his duvet, the lingering scent of his skin still clinging to the fabric.

I looked at my own reflection ghosting across the dark car window.

I realized then that my body had accepted the truth long before my heart did.

He was no longer the person I was allowed to disturb. He was no longer the person I had the right to lean on.

I was already hooked up to an IV when Desmond finally rushed in, his fingers wrapping around the plastic tube to warm the cold saline as it dripped into my veins.

I drifted into a hazy, medicated sleep. I didn't wake up until the sharp, stinging smack of a palm across my face brought me back to reality.