Chapter 4

A sudden, sharp ache pierced my heart.

Emotions that weren't mine overwhelmed my chest.

Again…

No questions, just accusations.

The physical pain intensified. Blood filled my mouth.

Tears welled in my eyes. I quickly lowered my head, refusing to acknowledge they were mine.

Through the thin fabric of my summer uniform shirt,

Noah Miller seemed to feel the hot tears. He looked momentarily panicked.

He turned to Damien, his voice dropping to something dangerous.

"Get out of the way."

Damien didn't move. "Put my sister down."

"Your sister?" Noah's laugh was sharp. "Since when do you call her that? Because every time I see her, she's alone, hurt, or being humiliated—and you're nowhere."

Damien's fist clenched. "You don't know anything about our family."

"I know she weighs less than my backpack. I know she's burning up with fever. And I know there's blood on her lips that she's been hiding from everyone."

That shut Damien up.

Noah carried me past him without another word.

In the infirmary, the school nurse took my temperature—39.8°C. She pressed on my abdomen, and I couldn't help but cry out.

"This isn't a regular stomach ache," she said sharply. "She needs a hospital. Now."

Noah was already calling a car.

I grabbed his sleeve weakly. "Don't... don't tell the Sterlings."

He stared at me. "Are you serious?"

"They won't come." I smiled faintly. "And even if they did, it would be to scold me for causing trouble."

Something in Noah's expression changed. The careless rebel disappeared. In his place was a boy who looked like he'd just been punched in the chest.

"Then I'll go with you," he said quietly. "You don't get to die on my watch, Emily Sterling."

At the hospital, Dr. Evans ran tests. I already knew what she'd find.

"Stage three gastric cancer," she told Noah in the hallway, thinking I couldn't hear. "Has she been receiving treatment?"

"I... I don't know."

"This should have been caught months ago. The progression suggests prolonged neglect. No medication, no dietary management, nothing."

Noah leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

When he came back into my room, he didn't say anything for a long time.

Then: "The curry. That first night. Damien threw it at you."

"It wasn't his fault. He didn't know."

"Stop defending people who hurt you."

"I'm not defending them. I'm just... tired of being angry."

Noah pulled up a chair and sat down. "Fine. Then I'll be angry for you."