His Favorite Killed His Saviour Chapter 04

His Favorite Killed His Saviour Chapter 04

I thought I had reached heaven because Elliot was waiting for me.

A shining divide stretched between us like a river I could never cross. He stood on the far side, smiling gently.

I cried and tried to reach him, but no matter how hard I ran, the distance never changed.

Each step carried me nowhere, while the bright current between us widened until it felt larger than the world.

Elliot remained close enough to see and impossibly far away.

Elliot waved as if telling me to go back. I shook my head, but he turned and walked away with the certainty of someone who had come only to say goodbye.

Then I remembered the day I had almost asked him to donate his kidney to Blaine.

His eyes had been red and wet. He had looked at me with the helpless sadness of an abandoned puppy.

“Avery, why does everyone love Blaine?” he asked.

“Why has no one ever loved me?”

“Is it because I was born outside marriage? I didn’t choose any of this.

“If I had been given a choice, I might never have come into this world.”

His voice held the exhaustion of someone who had spent his entire life apologizing for the circumstances of his birth.

He had never asked for the Whitmore family’s shame, yet they had made him carry all of it.

The grief in his face stopped me. The request I had prepared died in my throat, and I left without saying it.

I thought Blaine might not have long to live, so I decided I would stay beside him for whatever time remained.

But when I returned to his hospital room, I found him kissing Brielle as if nothing else in the world existed.

Blaine held her tightly, lost in the kiss, while the medical equipment beside his bed continued to measure the life Elliot might be asked to save.

The contrast was so cruel that I could only stand in the doorway and stare.

“After seeing that, do you still want to save him?” Elliot asked from behind me.

I wiped my tears and forced a smile. “You get attached even to a dog after twenty years.”

Elliot pressed his lips together and brushed a tear from my face.

“Don’t cry. I’ll save him for you,” he said.

“But I want three months in return. Just three months where you let me know what it feels like to be loved.”

I smiled and agreed.

I did not ask why he had chosen three months. Only later did I learn that the operation had accelerated an illness he had hidden, leaving him with that little time.

I had believed three months was simply the small selfish wish of a lonely man, never realizing he was quietly measuring the remainder of his life.

By the time I understood, most of that time was already gone.

Two months passed before I learned the truth. By then, Elliot was failing quickly, and guilt had transformed into a love so deep it frightened me.

He tired after a few steps, his face grew thinner each day, and even speaking sometimes left him breathless.

I began loving him at the exact moment I understood how little time I had left to show it.

Meanwhile, Blaine proved again and again that asking Elliot to save him had been the worst mistake of my life.

He brought Brielle to a private Whitmore family dinner and forced me to wipe spilled wine from her designer heels in front of everyone.

He had rare roses flown in from Europe and promised her a love that would last until death.

He let her open my home safe and shatter the heirloom bracelet my mother had left me.

The bracelet struck the floor and broke into pieces while Blaine stood nearby and allowed Brielle to call it an accident.

It was the last object that still carried my mother’s touch, and he treated its destruction as an inconvenience.

I retreated every time. Blaine kept pushing until Elliot was dead.

I cried until I could barely breathe, but Elliot never looked back.

Then a voice reached me from somewhere deep inside.

“Avery, wake up. Please wake up.

“If you’ll open your eyes, I’ll give you my life. Do you hear me?”

The voice dragged my spirit into another place. I floated above a hospital bed and saw my own body beneath a web of tubes and wires.

Blaine sat beside me with a bandage wrapped around his head. He held my hand and cried without restraint.

His face was swollen from the crash, his bandage was stained at the edge, and tears ran unchecked over his skin.

He looked nothing like the man who had mocked Elliot’s death in the club.

One hand pressed against his chest as if a dull blade were cutting slowly through his heart.

I drifted closer. “Why aren’t you dead?

“You should be.”

My fist passed through his chest without resistance. He did not hear me and continued begging me to wake up.

My hand moved through bone, muscle, and the borrowed organ inside him as though all of it were smoke.

Even as a spirit, I could not force him to feel the pain Elliot had carried.

I settled beside him and laughed bitterly. “Do you even know whom you love, Blaine?”

He kissed the back of my hand with unbearable tenderness. The sight disgusted me.

Perhaps my body reacted to that disgust. The cardiac monitor suddenly jumped into a frantic rhythm.

Blaine stared at the screen, then ran to call the medical team.

I remained beside my motionless body and smiled without humor.