My husband once begged me with tears in his eyes to save his first love.

1.

My husband once begged me with tears in his eyes to save his first love by donating my bone marrow, and tonight I watched that same woman thank him for giving her a new life.

Not me.

Him.

My fingers froze around my phone as the screen glowed in the dark living room, and my chest tightened so suddenly that my breath caught halfway in my throat.

Camille’s post sat at the top of the screen, and it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to that one glowing image.

A picture of her standing beside William outside the hospital.

She looked pale and delicate, wrapped in a soft coat like someone who had suffered through something tragic, while William stood beside her, tall and calm, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as if he had been the one carrying her through everything.

Supporting her.

Protecting her.

The caption sat under the picture.

"Thank you for giving me a second life. Thank you for standing beside me when I thought I would die. I will never forget what you did for me."

My stomach twisted, and my fingers slowly tightened around the phone forming half cresents pressed painfully into my palm.

My bones still ached from the surgery, and the dull pain had never really left my body.

But somehow that post hurt more.

I stared at the picture longer than I should have while my chest rose and fell slowly, and the quiet room seemed to close in around me.

William looked exactly the same.

Calm.

Protective.

The same way he used to look when he stood beside me.

Three months ago he stood in a hospital hallway begging me to save her life, and the memory came rushing back so clearly that it made my chest tighten.

I could still hear his voice.

"If you don't help her, she will die."

He had held my hands so tightly that night, and his fingers were shaking while his eyes looked red like he had not slept in days.

"You are the only match, Lily."

Only match.

His voice had broken when he said that, and the sound of it had made something deep inside my chest twist painfully.

"Please."

I had never heard William beg anyone before, because that man was not the kind who asked for anything.

But he begged me.

Because Camille was dying.

Because the woman he loved before me was lying in a hospital bed waiting for someone else's bone marrow.

I remembered how my chest tightened when he said it, and I remembered the fear that slowly crawled through my body.

Not fear of pain.

Fear of losing him.

Because the way he looked at me that night felt like everything depended on my answer, and the weight of his eyes made my heart pound painfully in my chest.

"I will never abandon you," he promised softly when the doctor explained the transplant, and his thumb brushed the back of my