I Understand His Regret, So I Replaced Him Too Chapter 01

I Understand His Regret, So I Replaced Him Too Chapter 01

Three years into Sullivan Hayes’s affair, I met a green college young man.

He wore a white T-shirt and faded jeans, with sharp, unruly brows, pressed thin lips, and slightly overlong bangs.

He looked about sixty percent like a young Sullivan.

My car broke down on the highway, and he quoted me five hundred bucks, promising to get the car fixed.

Halfway through the repair, his phone rang.

It sounded like the hospital calling about an overdue bill.

He held the phone, quiet for a long time, then spoke in a low voice.

“I’m working on it. I’ll have the money by the surgery date. I promise.”

“Just give me a little more time. Please.”

I stood there and suddenly remembered the day I first found out about Sullivan’s affair.

He was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, voice wrecked.

“Elara, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“But she looks so much like you did back then. You know that?”

“Every time I see her, I think about how hard you had it, and how I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“But now I can. I just want to help her. I want to take care of her properly—the way I never got to take care of you when you were her age.”

“Please don’t hate me for this.”

In that moment, I stopped hating Sullivan.

I finally understood exactly why he’d done it.

…

The car was fixed. I got in, turned the engine over. It ran fine.

He held up his phone and showed me his Paypal info. I was about to pay the bill when his phone rang again.

I glanced at the screen. Same hospital number.

He picked up. “Hello?” His face changed.

“What? Okay, I’m on my way.”

He hung up. Before he could say anything, I spoke. “Get in.”

He froze.

“You’re going to the hospital, right? You look like you’re in a hurry. I’ll drive you.”

He pressed his lips together, hesitated for half a second, then got into the passenger seat.

A long moment passed before I heard him mutter, “Thanks.”

I didn’t answer. I punched the address into the GPS and pulled out.

On the way, I asked about his situation.

His name was Tristan Cole. Twenty-one years old. Junior in college. Had a ten-year-old sister.

Their parents died in a plane crash when he was fifteen.

The inheritance should’ve lasted until they were adults, but greedy relatives siphoned off a large chunk of it.

Then last year, his sister was diagnosed with a heart condition.

What was left of the money burned through fast. Now he was drowning in debt.

Before he met me today, he’d just gotten the cold shoulder from those same relatives.

I asked what he was going to do.

He turned to look out the window. His face stayed steady, giving nothing away.

“There’s always a way to make money these days.”

We got to the hospital. Before the car even stopped, Tristan was out the door.

He didn’t wait for the elevator. Pushed through the stairwell door and took off running.

I grabbed my bag, glanced at the cardiology ward floor, and waited for the elevator to crawl up.

After the slow elevator ride up, I found my way to the ward. The doctor had just finished with the emergency. He and Tristan were talking about her condition.

A few minutes later, the little girl in the bed woke up.

Almost automatically, the tension on Tristan’s face melted into a soft smile.

He stroked her hair, murmured something, and she drifted back to sleep.

I looked at my phone. The trasfer request I’d sent him had already been accepted.

I thought for a second, then transferred fifty thousand dollars to his account and turned to leave.

I barely made it a few steps before he caught up.

“Wait!” He grabbed my wrist, opened his mouth, then closed it.

I smiled. “Keep it. Call it my good deed for the day. Your sister’s adorable. I hope she gets better soon.”

I knew he hated taking the money. But reality had a way of grinding down a young man’s pride.

He stood there fumbling for words, too proud to force out “I don’t need this.”

Finally, he just muttered, “I’ll pay you back.”

I waved it off and stepped into the elevator.