---- Chapter 20 A young nurse bustled in, checking his vitals. "Mr. Peterson? How are we feeling this morning?" "Carter," Ethan croaked. "My name is Carter." The nurse looked flustered. "Oh, | am so sorry, Mr. Carter. Wrong room." She scurried out. Even the hospital staff didn't know who he was anymore. He was a ghost Marcus Vance, his old college roommate and reluctant confidant, now more of a concerned acquaintance, came to visit. Marcus was a doctor at this hospital. "Ethan, what the hell are you doing to yourself?" Marcus asked, his expression grim. "Cirrhosis is not a good look, man. And this 'accidental overdose' of sleeping pills and booze? You're lucky to be alive." Ethan just stared blankly at the ceiling. "| don't get it," Marcus continued, shaking his head. "A few months ago, you were all about Chloe Davis. Head over heels, reliving your youth. Now, you're self-destructing over Ava Miller? The woman you were ready to ditch?" Ethan flinched. "She married Liam," he whispered, the words still tasting like ash. "My brother." Marcus's eyes widened. "Liam? Wow. Didn't see that coming. So, this is... what? A delayed reaction?" ---- "| need to talk to her," Ethan said, a desperate edge to his voice. "She needs to know... how much I'm suffering." Marcus sighed. "The pity play, huh? You think she'll come running if she knows you're at death's door?" Ethan looked at him, a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. "will she?" Marcus hesitated. "| don't know, man. But it's your funeral. Literally, if you keep this up." He agreed, reluctantly, to call Ava, to tell her Ethan was in a bad way. Ava didn't answer Marcus's first call. Or the second. On the third try, she picked up. Marcus explained the situation, carefully omitting the more self-inflicted details, painting Ethan as a man on the brink. There was a long silence on Ava's end. Then, her voice, cool and distant. "Marcus, | appreciate your concern. But Ethan's health is his own responsibility, or perhaps his family's. It has nothing to do with me anymore. | am on my honeymoon. My husband and | would appreciate not being disturbed." She didn't sound angry. She didn't sound concerned. She sounded... indifferent. "Honeymoon?" Ethan, who had been listening intently, croaked from the bed. "But they got back weeks ago..." Ava's voice continued, "Please tell Ethan | wish him a speedy recovery. And then, please lose my number. Goodbye, Marcus." The line went dead. Ethan stared at Marcus, his face ashen. Indifferent. She was ---- indifferent. Marcus looked uncomfortable. He pulled out his phone. "Uh, speaking of honeymoons... Ava just posted on Instagram." He showed Ethan the screen. A series of photos. Ava and Liam, laughing, on a sun-drenched beach. Ava, radiant in a sundress, Liam's arm around her, both of them looking at each other with an expression of pure, unadulterated happiness. One photo was a close-up of their hands, intertwined, their wedding bands glinting in the sun. The location tag: a remote, ultra-luxurious resort in the Maldives. A second honeymoon, apparently. "She looks... happy," Marcus said quietly. Ethan snatched the phone, his eyes devouring the images. Ava, smiling. Ava, laughing. Ava, looking at Liam with a love that was so clearly genuine, so completely devoid of him. A violent rage surged through him. He threw the phone against the wall, smashing it to pieces. "Why?!" he roared, his voice a tortured sound. "Why doesn't she love me anymore? Didn't she see what | did for her? | got tid of Chloe! | was ready to come back to her!" He sank back against the pillows, tears of frustration and despair streaming down his face. "She was supposed to love me. Always." Marcus quietly retrieved the broken pieces of his phone and slipped out of the room, leaving Ethan alone with his rage and his regret. It was too late. He knew it. But he couldn't accept it.