I Cleaned His Fridge For Three Years For Nothing Chapter 08

I Cleaned His Fridge For Three Years For Nothing Chapter 08

Rhys was rushed to the clinic late one night when his old heart ailment flared back up.

That was the first time I’d felt true, paralyzing fear.

Outside the exam room, I called Marnie to explain I’d be missing work.

My hands shook nonstop as I held the phone.

Once I hung up, Kai stood at the end of the hospital hallway clutching Rhys’s medical test results.

“I spoke to Dr. Mercer. It’s not life-threatening. I have connections at the main hospital in Havenbrook to schedule follow-up care.”

“Thank you.”

He let out a bitter, hollow smile.

“Now all I get from you is a simple thank-you.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

He stuck around to help me complete all the transfer paperwork and arrange private transit back to

Havenbrook.

He’d always been reliable, steady, dependable.

That’s exactly why I’d thrown every piece of myself into loving him all those years ago.

Rhys regained consciousness in the early hours of the morning.

He spotted Kai standing beside my hospital chair and blinked in surprise before speaking softly.

“Thank you for helping her.”

Kai’s gaze locked onto him. “Take good care of her.”

Rhys smiled faintly.

“That’s her choice to make, not yours to assign.”

Kai didn’t argue back.

Before we left Willowspire for the city hospital, Rhys laced his fingers through mine.

“Sage, this surgery carries risks.”

I cut him off before he could finish. “Don’t talk like you’re saying goodbye forever.”

He laughed, then broke into a light coughing fit.

“I just wanted to say-if things don’t go well during the operation, don’t ever run back to the people who only hurt you.”

Tears splashed onto the back of his hand, and he brushed them away with his thumb.

“Of course, if I pull through this, can I put my name down in line to be yours?”

I rolled my eyes at him through my tears.

“Now’s not the time for jokes.”

“I hate seeing you cry.”

The surgery was scheduled two days later.

Kai remained at the hospital those forty-eight hours, never crowding me, only handling all the administrative paperwork quietly in the background.

I went to pay the medical bill once and found the entire balance already settled.

The day of the operation, Elara also arrived, handing me a paper container of creamy oat porridge.

She didn’t ramble on with endless apologies this time.

Once the surgical lights flipped on above the operating room doors, time dragged on endlessly.

Kai sat two empty seats away from me on the waiting room bench.

After a long stretch of silence, he spoke at last.

“I used to be convinced you’d never leave me.”

I didn’t respond.

Some apologies arrive far too late-like summer dresses delivered in the dead of winter.

The gesture might hold good intent, but the season for them has already passed.

The surgery lasted six full hours.

When Dr. Mercer finally stepped out into the waiting room, he told us the operation was a success, though Rhys would need close monitoring during the critical recovery window.

My legs buckled beneath me, and I caught myself against the hallway wall.

Kai’s hand shot out instinctively to steady me, then froze halfway through the movement, and dropped back to his side.

Elara stepped in to support my weight instead.

“Sage, he’s going to be okay.”

I nodded, but couldn’t summon a single tear to cry.

Rhys was wheeled out of the operating room still unconscious, and I followed the gurney all the way to his recovery ward.

Kai stayed rooted in the waiting room, nurses calling him over to sign post-op paperwork.

Rhys woke up the next afternoon.

He spotted me slumped asleep beside his hospital bed, and his first quiet sentence was,

my spot in line?”

Tears burst free instantly.

“You did.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Then I’ve got plenty of reason to fight and stay healthy.”

One month later, we traveled back to Willowspire.

“Did I get

Marnie hung handwritten kraft paper wish tags strung all across the retreat courtyard, each one marked “Safe Return.”

Rhys’s recovery progressed slowly, yet he insisted on helping me finish building Wynn & Hale Vintage Atelier, our shared vintage renovation studio.

I named the space Wynn & Hale Vintage Atelier.

On opening day, Kai delivered a bouquet of wild seasonal flowers.

His card held only a single line of handwriting.

[May you get everything you’ve ever wanted.]

Rhys glanced at the card and turned to me. “Does this bother you?”

I shook my head.

“He’s celebrating the version of myself I finally became.”

Rhys leaned against the studio doorframe.

“Then I’ll celebrate that same you-and formally request permanent cohabitation for the rest of

our lives.”

I smiled and handed him a hand-carved oak wooden sign.

“Hang this up first.”

Etched into the back of the wood, carved by his own hands, were simple words: Taking things slow

is perfect too.