She’s the Obstacle, He’s the Hero, I’m Just the Plot They’re Skipping Chapter 10

She’s the Obstacle, He’s the Hero, I’m Just the Plot They’re Skipping Chapter 10

A warm hand settled on my shoulder. It was Arthur.

I blinked, and the comments were gone. Ethan was gone too — he’d slipped out while I wasn’t looking.

That urgent need to confront him had already dissolved. I let out a slow breath and thought, what would’ve been the point?

Even if he told me everything — then what? I was dying anyway.

ALS doesn’t have a happy ending. Even if the trial worked, all it would buy me was a little more time, and not nearly enough.

I was always going to be the one who left first. There was no reason to drag him down with me.

Better this way. Arthur watched me for a second, but he didn’t ask.

He crossed to the doorway, gathered the spilled flowers off the floor, and arranged them beside the tall vase of holly branches.

“You still planning to catch the show tonight?” he asked.

I thought of that face in the brochure — the one that looked so much like Ethan — and whatever curiosity I’d had evaporated. But I didn’t want to brush Arthur off.

“I’ll skip the dance. I’d rather go to the outdoor movie tonight.”

After a beat, I added, “I can get there on my own. You should head back — I know your research has you swamped.”

Arthur nodded. After dinner, I waved the caregiver away and wheeled myself toward the outdoor plaza.

Passing the performance hall — the sign over the door read PARTY — I couldn’t resist a glance through the door. The stage was packed with college-aged guys, bursting with energy and movement.

They weren’t dressed too provocatively — the setting wouldn’t allow it — but those tall, athletic bodies still knew how to command a stage.

I lingered at the glass door, watching. Then something snagged at the edge of my attention — a familiar set of shoulders in the very last row.

I almost laughed. Ethan — bundled up in a scarf, hat, mask, sunglasses, the whole ridiculous getup — was sitting in the last row.

He was holding a small notebook, scribbling away. The sight cracked open a door in my chest — college, before any of this.

We’d been in different departments, our schedules almost never lining up. But whenever I had a free period, I’d slip into his lecture hall and park myself in the back row.

I’d pretend I was auditing. Really, I was just watching him. And the way he hunched over that notebook now — pen moving in quick, careful strokes — was exactly the way he used to.

Only he seemed to be concentrating even harder this time. Something slammed into my wheelchair from behind, jerking me forward.

Turning my head far enough to look back was more than my body could comfortably manage anymore. And there was really only one person in this place rude enough to ram a wheelchair, so I didn’t even bother.

When I didn’t turn, Chloe had to come around to face me herself. Her foot was wrapped in bandages, sure — but there was no swelling, no real sign she was hurt.

Sure enough, she propped her crutch against the wall and circled my wheelchair slowly.

“See?” she smirked. “It’s barely anything. I can walk just fine when I want to.”

I gave her a slow nod. “Good for you.”

Her smile dropped. After a beat, she stepped behind me and grabbed the handles of my wheelchair.

My pulse kicked up. She bent close, her mouth right at my ear.

“Let’s go somewhere and talk. Don’t worry — there are cameras everywhere in this place.”

“Even someone as helpless as you doesn’t need to be that scared.” Her voice dripped with fake sweetness, hiding the razor edge underneath.