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“I asked her to marry you so she’d always be close enough to treat you—however long it took. To give you back the future you thought you’d already lost.”

A deep silence fell between them.

Lorenzo stared at the floor, his pulse thudding in his ears.

Grayson sighed. His tone shifted, gentler now. “That may have been how it started. But don’t act like she treated you like a job. She gave you more care than any doctor could. Hell, she gave you more love than any wife ever would. She didn’t owe you that.”

Lorenzo couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His legs felt rooted to the floor, and the walls around him suddenly felt too close, too tight.

Grayson leaned back on the couch, a weary sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes. “Let it be,” he muttered. “Maybe this is how it was always meant to end.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, it was quieter… more broken.

“I had thought... I had hoped... that by the time you were healed, you two would have grown close enough to stay together forever. To choose each other, even after the favor was done. But I was wrong. I guess this marriage was already destined to end before it even began.”

Lorenzo stood frozen, his body locked up, shoulders tense. His voice barely came out—low, dry, like something had died inside him.

“So my whole marriage…” His voice was hollow. “It was all built on a favor?” The question scratched his throat raw, each word cutting as it passed. His heart slammed in his chest like it couldn’t decide whether to fight or fall apart.

Grayson opened his eyes slowly and looked up at his grandson, his expression hard. “She married you to help you. To treat you when everyone else failed. because she felt she owed me something,” he said plainly. “But don’t twist that into thinking it was all fake. That girl did a hell of a lot more than that, didn’t she?”

He pointed a finger, his voice sharp as a blade. “She did more for you than any doctor ever would. She gave you your life back. Not just your hands—your strength, your pride, your damn dignity. You were falling apart, Lorenzo. You couldn’t even hold a glass of water. And still, she stayed.”

Grayson’s chest rose with each breath, fury burning behind his words.

She cooked for you. Timed every meal to match your meds. Took care of you without making it feel like pity. She carried you through it, step by step, without ever asking for anythingin return. No praise. No recognition. Nothing. She gave you everything—her time, her care, her heart. She cared for you in a way no one else ever would. She didn’t treat you like a patient. She treated you like you were her world!”

Lorenzo’s fists curled tighter. His throat burned, and he couldn’t look up.

Grayson’s voice softened, but the weight behind it only grew heavier.

“She treated you better than any wife would’ve. She didn’t just do her duty. She loved you, Lorenzo. Hell, even I saw it. She loved you in every small, invisible way you never bothered to see. Even when you gave her nothing back. And still—still—you threw it all away.”

His voice turned cold. “You divorced her. Why?”

Lorenzo turned his face away, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Grayson shook his head. His voice dropped, firm but sad.

“If you don’t love her, then let her go. Fully. Don’t drag her back into this if you’re just going to break her all over again. She doesn’t deserve it. She deserved love. And if you were too blind to give it then—and too damn cowardly to admit it now—then maybe you never deserved her at all. Don’t drag her into your mess if all you’re going to do is hurt her again.””

***

Lorenzo’s car had been circling the city for hours, aimless and restless. After leaving his grandfather’s house, he couldn’t bring himself to return to the suffocating silence of his home. Every corner of that house felt empty without Krystal.

His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles pale. His chest ached like it was being crushed under invisible weight. Breathing felt like a chore.

Ever since she walked out of his life, something inside him had come undone. But hearing the truth from Grandpa—that she’d only married him to repay a favor, to heal him, like some moral obligation—shattered what little was left of his sanity.

The words wouldn’t stop echoing.

‘Was that all I ever was to you, Krystal? Just a patient? Just a debt you had to clear?’

His body burned with a fever, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t tell if it was grief or guilt anymore. All he knew was the ache in his chest wouldn’t go away.

An hour passed before he realized where he’d driven. Her apartment building stood quietly under the orange glow of the streetlights. He pulled over, rested his head against the steering wheel for a second, then grabbed his phone with trembling fingers.

He dialed her.