Chapter 3
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Bennett turned the ring between his fingers, his gaze darkening.
“Where did you get this?”
Aria blinked away tears. “It’s mine. I’ve had it since I was a child.“”
With a sharp tug, she snatched it back, glaring at him
defensively.
She didn’t remember how she’d gotten it. There had been an
accident when she was little–a head injury that stole fragments
of her past. After that, she’d always worn it.
Bennett’s lips pressed into a thin line. Memories flickered in his
mind–ones he hadn’t revisited in years.
Aria, as a child, had been scrawny, her hair a dull, straw–like
yellow. She’d trailed after him, sniffling, her face streaked with
tears.
She’d been sickly. Weak.
And she’d cried so much.
Even now, grown up, those tears hadn’t stopped.
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Though at least she wasn’t as ugly when she cried anymore.
Now, despite her lingering youthfulness, there was no denying
her striking beauty.
Something in Bennett’s demeanor softened.
“You’ve talked enough,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
“Do you want water?”
Aria hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Too weak to lift the glass herself, she let Bennett hold it for her,
her lips brushing the rim as she sipped.
The cool liquid soothed her parched throat. When she finally looked up at him again, she didn’t know what to say.
Too much had happened. Her mind was a storm of confusion.
And she had no idea–had Bennett already crossed paths with
Tessa in this timeline?
Bennett checked his watch. “I have to leave soon. Should I call
your family?”
“No,” Aria said quietly. “I’ll hire a caregiver.”
She remembered all too well–in her past life, she’d waited
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desperately for her family to visit.
Instead, they’d scorned her.
Bennett studied her for a long moment. Then, grabbing his suit
jacket from the bed rail, he turned toward the door. “Rest. I’ll
send the doctor in.”
As his footsteps faded, Aria stared blankly at the empty
doorway.
The painkillers must have worn off. Her wounds had begun to
throb again.
The doctor arrived shortly after.
Henry Eastwood’s gaze was complicated as he looked at Aria. He
had often heard Owen Whitmore speak poorly of her–always
with undisguised disdain.
‘Her fiance fell for her sister and ran off. She slit her wrists and
nearly died. And now she has cancer So young. What a tragedy,
he wondered.
“Are you aware of your condition?” Henry asked.
“The cancer?” Aria paused, then let out a light, indifferent laugh.
“Yeah, I know!”
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In her past life, she had been diagnosed with stage two breast
cancer around this time. But back then, she hadn’t taken
treatment seriously.
By the time it reached stage four, the pain had become
unbearable. Only then did she desperately seek help.
Five years of agony. Five years of wasting away until she was
barely human.
And in the end? Her death had only confirmed what she already
knew–her family had truly wanted her gone.
Henry frowned. If she already knew, why didn’t she transfer to
our hospital for treatment? Our facilities are far superior. And
with Owen’s expertise-
“Does your family know?” he asked.
“No,” said Aria.
His expression darkened. “Don’t gamble with your health.
Owen’s skills are exceptional. With proper treatment, recovery
is possible.”
Aria met his eyes, a bitter realization dawning. Does he think I’m
neglecting my health just to get their attention?
A faint, mocking smile touched her lips. “His skills are that good?
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Could’ve fooled me. If they were, wouldn’t he have noticed I was
sick?”
Wouldn’t he have seen through Tessa’s fake illnesses?
“What I mean is–don’t let pride stop you from getting treatment.
With medication and care, the condition can be managed. Don’t
give up.”
Aria blinked, then shook her head with a quiet laugh. “I’m done.
I’ve lived enough.”
She knew her body. In her past life, treatment had brought nothing but suffering–and it hadn’t even worked.
This time, she wanted to live free.
Henry fell silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I’ll inform
Owen. This isn’t something to ignore.”
After a few more instructions, he left.
Aria pressed her lips together, bitterness swelling in her chest.
