Chapter 1: The Woman Beside Him
At 9:17 on a Thursday night, Malcolm Reed discovered that the two people he trusted most in the world had found a way to hurt him that his illness never could.
He sat in his black wheelchair near the entrance to his living room, a thin oxygen tube resting beneath his nose. His black hoodie hung loosely from his shoulders, and the golden light from the chandelier exposed the hollows beneath his cheekbones. At thirty-four, Malcolm looked older than his years. The past six months had taken weight from his body, strength from his legs, and more sleep than he could remember having.
But they had not taken his ability to recognize betrayal.
Across the room, on the expensive gray sofa he had chosen with his girlfriend, Tiana Brooks, a year earlier, his best friend was kissing her.
Not greeting her.
Not comforting her.
Kissing her with the familiarity of a man who had forgotten there was anyone else in the house.
Darius Cole's hand rested against Tiana's waist. Her fingers were tangled behind his neck. She leaned toward him with her eyes closed, her body angled as though the world outside that sofa had ceased to exist.
Malcolm watched them for several seconds.
He wished he hadn't.
He wished he'd stayed in his bedroom, where the oxygen concentrator hummed beside his bed and the curtains concealed the dark windows. He wished he hadn't decided that he wanted to spend one ordinary evening in the living room instead of watching another movie alone.
Most of all, he wished he could still stand up without having to calculate whether his knees would hold him.
A bitter laugh almost escaped him.
Almost.
His chest tightened. He adjusted his breathing, drawing air slowly through the tubing beneath his nose. His fingers curled around the wheelchair's armrests.
He could have called their names immediately. He could have thrown the glass of water sitting on the side table. He could have demanded an explanation loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
Instead, he found himself remembering a different Thursday night, nearly three years earlier.
He had been standing in a cramped apartment kitchen in Atlanta, frying chicken while Darius complained about another woman who had broken his heart. Tiana had been there, too, sitting on the counter and laughing at Malcolm's terrible singing.
Back then, Darius had been the brother Malcolm chose, not the brother he was born with.
When Malcolm's father died, Darius drove through the night to sit beside him at the funeral home. When Malcolm's business nearly collapsed, Darius lent him money without demanding a repayment date. When Malcolm first learned that his health was deteriorating, Darius had held his shoulders and promised, "Whatever happens, you're not facing it alone.""
Tiana had made a similar promise.
Now they were sitting together on Malcolm's sofa, acting as if he had already disappeared.
"Unbelievable," Malcolm whispered.
The word barely carried across the room.
He swallowed, lifted his chin, and spoke again.
"I'm trying to live through every single day, and this is what the two of you do behind my back?""
The kiss ended instantly.
Tiana recoiled so quickly that her knee struck the coffee table. A decorative bowl rattled against its surface. Darius jerked backward, his hand leaving her waist.
For one brief second, neither of them spoke.
Malcolm watched the realization settle over their faces. He saw the panic in Tiana's widened eyes and the sudden stiffness in Darius's shoulders.
Then Tiana began moving.
She pulled her hands away from Darius's neck, smoothed her dress, and turned toward Malcolm. Her mouth opened before she seemed to have decided what she wanted to say.
"Wait. Malcolm, wait! You don't understand what you just saw.""
He stared at her.
She rushed on.
"He came over because I needed help. That's all. We were talking, and things got emotional.
You know how worried I've been about everything. It wasn't what you think.""
Darius shifted toward the edge of the sofa.
"Listen, brother, I can explain—"
"Don't call me brother.""
Malcolm's voice was quiet, but something in it made Darius stop.
Malcolm drew another breath. His chest felt heavy, and the oxygen tubing brushed his cheek when he turned his head.
"Don't call me brother," he repeated.
"Not right now.""
Darius's mouth tightened.
"Malcolm, we've known each other since we were sixteen.""
"I know exactly how long I've known you.""
"Then let me talk.""
"You had plenty of time to talk before I came in.""
Darius glanced toward Tiana, apparently expecting her to rescue him from the accusation. She leaned forward instead, her palms raised in a gesture of helplessness.
"You're making this into something terrible without knowing the whole story.""
Malcolm's eyes returned to her.
"The whole story?""
"Yes.""
"What part am I missing, Tiana? The part where you put your hands around his neck, or the part where he put his hands on you?""
She flinched as if he had slapped her.
"Don't do that.""
"Do what?""
"Talk to me like I'm some kind of monster.""
He looked at her for a long moment.
He remembered her sitting beside his hospital bed three months earlier, rubbing circles against his wrist while he struggled through another frightening night. He remembered waking to find her asleep in a chair, her cheek resting against the mattress.
He had loved her for those moments.
He had built an entire future around them.
And now he wondered how many nights she had spent in his arms while secretly wishing she were somewhere else.
"How long?"" he asked.
Tiana went still.
"How long has this been happening?""
"It hasn't been happening.""
Malcolm looked at Darius.
His oldest friend could not meet his eyes.
That silence answered more than either of them intended.
Malcolm nodded once, almost to himself.
"Okay.""
Tiana's expression changed.
"Okay? What does that mean?""
"It means I'm listening.""
"No, you're not. You're sitting there judging me, and you haven't even let me explain.""
"Then explain.""
She took a breath, but her words came out faster than before.
"You've been sick for months, Malcolm. Everything changed. Our whole relationship changed.
I spend every day worrying about you, worrying about whether you're getting worse, worrying about what happens when I go to sleep and you start struggling to breathe. I have to be strong all the time, and nobody ever asks how I'm doing.""
Malcolm's eyes burned.
He knew she had struggled. He had watched her cry in the kitchen when she thought he couldn't hear her. He had encouraged her to see friends, to travel for a weekend, to pursue the graduate program she had postponed.
He had never asked her to become a prisoner in his house.
But he had never imagined that his suffering would become the justification for her betrayal.
"You're lonely," he said.
Tiana nodded vigorously, seizing on the words.
"Yes! I'm lonely. I'm exhausted. I feel like I'm losing the person I fell in love with, and I'm terrified all the time.""
Her voice broke on the final words.
For a moment, Malcolm felt the familiar instinct to comfort her.
It was automatic, almost physical. Even now, while his heart was breaking, some part of him wanted to reach for her hand and tell her they would figure things out.
Then he noticed where her hand had landed.
Darius's wrist.
Her fingers were wrapped around it.
Not accidentally brushing his skin. Not hovering uncertainly between them.
Holding him.
Malcolm lowered his eyes to their joined hands.
Neither seemed to notice.
He looked back at Tiana.
"I'm trying to breathe," he said slowly.
"And you're blaming me because I haven't been there for you enough?""
Her lips parted.
"That's not what I—"
"Then what are you saying?""
She had no answer ready.
Darius rubbed a hand over his face.
"Man, this isn't fair. You know how hard things have been for everybody.""
Malcolm turned toward him.
"Everybody?""
"That's not what I meant.""
"You've watched me struggle to get from my bed to this room. You've watched me apologize because I need help getting dressed. You've sat in my house and listened to me fight for air.""
Darius's jaw tightened.
"And through all of that, I trusted you.""
The room became painfully quiet.
Outside, a car passed along the street. Its headlights slid across the front windows and disappeared.
Malcolm looked at the woman he loved.
"Tell me one thing, Tiana.""
She swallowed.
"What?""
"Did you ever plan to tell me?""
She looked down.
And her fingers tightened around Darius's wrist.
Malcolm saw it happen.
So did Darius.
Neither of them moved.
For the first time that night, Malcolm felt something colder than anger settle inside him.
He no longer needed to know whether the kiss had meant something.
May you like
He was beginning to understand that the betrayal had started long before he walked into the room.
And the woman who had promised never to leave him was still holding on to the man who had helped her break his heart.
