Chapter 2

Ethan looked at my calm face, his surprise lasting only a moment before melting into understanding.

"You should've been like this sooner, Erin." He sighed in relief, resting his hand on my shoulder as if rewarding my compliance. "You know how much pressure I've been under lately? The company's in the middle of a merger, and then there's Leah... Now you finally look like a real wife and sister."

We walked into the living room. Instead of being empty, the couch was crowded.

My parents, Richard and Margaret, sat there like a jury, waiting to pass judgment.

Leah was curled up in my mother's arms, pale-faced, her gentle eyes full of apology as she looked at me.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" my mother, Margaret, said, disappointment heavy in her voice. "Ethan told us you ran away over a few flowers? Erin, we worked so hard to bring you back after all those years, but you still haven't changed that selfish streak from the projects."

My father, Richard, took off his glasses and wiped them, his voice steady but even sharper. "You know what shape your sister's in. She's kind and gentle—if you could learn just a little from Leah, maybe this family wouldn't be so restless."

Before, I would've started defending myself.

I would've said those flowers were my hard work, that I was exhausted too, that my feelings always came last.

But now, none of those words stirred any urge to fight.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

That single apology made the room fall silent.

Their prepared speeches landed like punches on cotton.

"Since you understand," my father cleared his throat, steering things toward their real goal, "then you should be ready to talk about the bone marrow donation."

"The doctor said you're the only fully matched donor right now," my mother added quickly. "It's just some marrow—it grows back, it won't hurt you. Don't use trying for a baby as an excuse, Erin. You've been trying for a year and nothing's happened. That's God's way of telling you to save your sister first."

Leah spoke up, fragile and soft. "Sis, if you were sick, even if I had a child, I'd..."

"If you did have a child, you'd have to make a choice," my mother cut her off, coldly eyeing me. "A real life versus a maybe-baby, you know which matters more."

I looked at Ethan.

Before, I would've begged him with my eyes.

He was my husband. He knew how many pills I'd swallowed, how much pain I'd endured trying for a child.

But he just avoided my gaze, fiddling with his sleeve, silent.

"Let's vote!"

Leo, who'd been playing his Switch, suddenly jumped off the couch and stood in the middle of the coffee table, like a little judge. "My teacher says when you can't make a tough decision, you vote. That's democracy!"

"I think that's a great idea," my father actually nodded in approval. "It's the fairest way."

Absurdity washed over me, but I didn't feel suffocated—just like I was watching a comedy.

"All in favor of Mom donating bone marrow to save Aunt Leah, raise your hand!" Leo shot his hand up first, eyes daring me to protest.

Then my father.

Then my mother.

Leah bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. "I don't want my sister to suffer," she whispered, but shakily raised her hand anyway.

Four votes.

Everyone's eyes finally turned to Ethan.

The man I once loved—now, he looked at the hopeful faces around him, then at my expressionless face.

His Adam's apple bobbed. At last, the hand with the wedding ring rose, slow and steady.

Unanimous.

This is my family: using the most civilized, democratic, and "caring" method to push me onto the operating table.

"All right," I heard myself say.

The air in the living room loosened instantly.

My mother smiled with relief. "See? I told you Erin is sensible."

Ethan came over, trying to hug me, his voice syrupy sweet. "That's right, Erin. We'll move forward together. I'll make it up to you."

His warmth made my skin crawl, but I didn't pull away.

Just then, Leo's iPad rang on the coffee table.

A video call.

"Oh, it's my teacher!" Leo shouted. Ethan picked up the call.

On screen, a middle-aged woman appeared, background noisy.

"Sorry to bother you so late, my car broke down so I'm doing home visits by video," she said, adjusting her glasses as her gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Ethan, Leo, and Leah sitting together.

"Mr. Ward, Mrs. Ward," the teacher smiled at Leah, "You two were so in sync at the parent-student field day. The three-legged race was amazing—I heard other parents talking about how rare it is to see such loving parents and child. Leo's so lucky to have both of you."

The room froze again.

Leah's face flushed red, scrambling to explain. "No, I'm not..."

"No need to apologize!" Leo suddenly cut her off, his protectiveness flaring as he glared at me. "I asked Aunt Leah to go! I didn't want Mom at my field day anyway!"

I stood in the shadows, out of the camera's view, watching it all.

Ethan's expression changed.

He looked at me, panic flickering in his eyes.

Normally, I would've rushed over, snatched the iPad, confronted the teacher, maybe even lost control and hit Leo.

Ethan probably thought since I'd agreed to donate marrow, he'd have to take care of my feelings now, maybe even prepared his lines: "Erin, the kid doesn't know any better—don't make a scene, it'll just embarrass us."

Let me vent, then make Leo apologize to me, and that would be his "gift" after I agreed to the donation.

Leo stood tall, stubborn, like a soldier ready for battle—even if he got punished, he wouldn't back down.

One second. Two.

I didn't rush over.

I simply walked forward, picked up the iPad.

The teacher paused, clearly unsure who the woman from the corner was.

I handed the iPad to Leah.

"You all have a nice chat," I said, yawning, my tone as casual as talking about tomorrow's weather. "Since Leo's teacher likes your teamwork so much, don't disappoint her. I'm tired. I'm going to shower and sleep."

Without looking at anyone, I turned and walked to the bedroom.

Behind me, silence settled like a shroud.

I could feel Ethan's eyes locked on my back, filled with a fear he'd never felt before.