1 Hayden Cole and I were a match made in hell, famous in our circles for it. After a decade of mutual torment, we’d finally called a truce. But on the very first day of his return to the country, he trashed my bar, all to win a smile from some new girl. So I split his lip. “Tch. Smashing up your place felt good,” he’d sneered, dabbing at the blood. “Name your price for the damages. Anything you want.” What does a dying woman have to ask for? It wasn't until my final check-up that I knew my time was officially up. In the hospital corridor, a mother and daughter who’d recovered from the same ward looked at me with pity. “That poor thing. So young, and in the end, there won’t even be anyone to collect her body.” Sitting on that cold bench, I finally dialed the number I’d kept saved for ten years. “If you really want to compensate me,” I said, my voice flat, “then you can be the one to collect my body.” … Rain lashed against the windows of the bar that night, driving away most of the customers. The TV on the wall was broadcasting a news segment about Hayden’s triumphant return. I was just about to lock up when a young girl burst in. She shook out her umbrella, her eyes bright with excitement as she pointed at the top-shelf liquor behind the counter. “I want all of those.” Following her was Mason, Hayden’s closest friend. He froze when he saw me. “Uh,” he stammered, “maybe we should try another place?” “No, this is it,” the girl insisted, her voice light and cheerful. “I bought Hayden a bottle from here once. He absolutely loved their signature blend.” She turned her sparkling eyes to me. “Ma’am, I’m booking the whole place for tonight. Get those bottles ready for us, will you?” I managed a nod, my head bowed to hide the tremor in my hands as I scooped ice into a shaker. It wasn’t nerves, and it certainly wasn’t anticipation. It was the illness, a relentless disease for which there was no cure. “Mason, can you help me light these candles?” the girl chirped. “Hayden will be so happy when he sees this, don't you think?” Mason didn’t answer. He knew as well as I did that the sight of me was the last thing that would make Hayden Cole happy. On the television, Hayden smirked into the camera. “I’m sure she’s watching. And believe me, I’m looking forward to our reunion, too.” The camera angle highlighted a faint, silvery scar above his brow. I put it there with a kitchen knife. There was no grand reason. I was in a bad mood, so I swung. Just as the jagged scar on the back of my own hand was a souvenir from him—a wound he’d torn open with his bare hands and let fester until it scarred over. The reporter on screen was breathless. “So, where are you headed now? I see you have roses. Are you on your way to see your girlfriend?” He paused, his smirk softening just a fraction. “My fiancée.” The young girl, who was meticulously arranging the candles, glanced up at the screen. “Mason,” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity, “did you ever meet her? The first love he spent ten years with?” I kept my head down, the rhythmic rattle of the cocktail shaker filling the silence, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mason’s gaze flicker towards me. “Hayden!” the girl suddenly cried out. She darted outside, forgetting her umbrella in her haste. “Lily,” Hayden’s voice, deep and familiar, drifted in. He angled his large black umbrella to shield her from the downpour. She stood on her toes, her face alight with pure, unadulterated joy, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. For a split second, Hayden flinched back. And in that fleeting moment, through the rain-streaked glass, our eyes met. Lily tried to follow his gaze, but he caught her chin, tilting her face up to his and deepening the kiss, turning it into a passionate, public display. I looked away, dropping a sprig of mint into a glass. Mason was already at the bar. He hesitated, then finally spoke, his voice low. “Please, Avery. Don’t make things harder for him.” He paused, then added, as if to twist the knife, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Reminds me of you, when you were younger. She’s only nineteen.” I nodded, feeling a strange sense of detachment. “Yes. She’s very beautiful.” The couple stepped inside, Hayden collapsing his wet umbrella by the door. “Are you two… complimenting my fiancée?” he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance. Then, his gaze, heavy with a decade of history, landed squarely on me. 2 Mason held his breath, watching me. He had no idea if I was about to fly into one of my infamous rages. But I simply placed the cocktails on the counter. “Your drinks are ready. Enjoy.” Lily cupped her face in her hands, her eyes twinkling with adoration for the man across from her. “Hayden, try it. It’s the one you said you loved.” Hayden took a sip, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass. “Bitter and sharp,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on me. “Yes, this is definitely my favorite.” Lily looked puzzled and took a sip herself. “It’s sweet! You’re teasing me again!” She didn’t see the way he was looking at me, his gaze dark and intense. Suddenly, the bar door was kicked open. “Bro! Welcome back!” A group of guys swaggered in, but their boisterous energy evaporated the moment they saw me behind the counter. Their eyes darted from me to Mason, their faces a mixture of confusion and alarm. I brought over their drinks, but as I handed them out, they flinched back in unison, throwing their arms up as if to shield their faces. I guess my decade-long war with Hayden had included some collateral damage. I hadn't thought much of it, but clearly, they remembered. “Mason, what the hell is going on?” one of them whispered. Mason just shrugged. “Enjoy your drinks,” I said coolly. I turned to walk away, but Lily grabbed my hand. “Ma’am, could you take a picture for us?” “No.” I brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from my shirt. As I took a step, Hayden’s voice cut through the air from behind me. “Everyone in business has their price. Name it.” When I didn’t respond, he threw a wad of cash at me. “Is that enough?” I turned back just in time for the bundle of bills to smack me squarely in the face. “Hayden… don’t…” Mason started. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Lily said, rushing to my side. “My fiancé has had a little too much to drink.” I bent down, picking up the scattered bills. “Two cocktails wouldn’t get him drunk,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “He has a better tolerance than that.” From above, I heard a contemptuous snort. “Man, look at her, still scrambling for cash,” one of his friends, Seth, sneered. “Three years and she’s still the same piece of trash.” I suppose I’d been playing nice for too long if he thought he could get away with saying that. I picked up the last of the ten bills, now crumpled and smeared with bar floor grime. Then, I walked calmly over to Hayden. He held out his phone, a confident smirk on his face, as if my newfound composure amused him. I balled up the wad of cash, pried his jaw open with my other hand, and shoved it all inside. To make sure he really got the message, I grabbed the two cocktails and poured them down his throat after it. Then, I turned and slapped Seth hard across the face. “Keep that mouth of yours shut,” I hissed, “or I’ll sew it shut for you.” The bar fell silent, the only sound the drumming of the rain outside. Only Mason seemed unfazed, leaning back and downing his drink with a heavy sigh. “Ma’am, you can’t run a business like this!” Lily cried out, her voice trembling. “We were wrong first, but you can’t just hit people! He—” I spun around and slapped her too. Hayden licked his lips, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. “You can hit me,” he said softly. “But laying a hand on my fiancée? That crosses a line. Lily, darling, how do you want to get even?” Lily clutched her stinging cheek, tears welling in her eyes. Hayden’s gaze swept across my small, lovingly curated bar. “Nice place,” he said. “How about we tear it down for you, Lily?” As she nodded, a team of his bodyguards filed in, armed with crowbars and bats. The windows, the island bar, the overhead lights—all of it was shattered. Rain and wind whipped through the broken panes, spattering against my face. Hayden stepped through the wreckage and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You’re not wrong, Avery,” he whispered, his eyes greedily tracing every line of my face. “But I have to make my fiancée happy. Think about what you want for compensation. I’ll give you anything.” I jerked my head away from him and started coughing, a wracking, uncontrollable fit. I scrambled desperately through the debris, searching for my pill bottle. He glanced at the label with a dismissive sneer. “Six tranquilizers in one go. You’re not afraid of killing yourself?” He picked up the bottle and casually tossed it into a growing puddle of rainwater before wrapping an arm around Lily and striding out into the night. I collapsed next to the puddle, fished the bottle out of the murky water, and swallowed two more pills. They weren't just for calm; they were for the pain. It had started with half a pill. Now, even eight barely took the edge off. The bottle was almost empty. My life was being drained along with it. 3 Three years ago, my mother died. All she left me was this bar. For a moment, standing in the ruins, I had no idea where to go. A wave of pain, sharp and searing, washed over my entire body, making it impossible to even think about moving. I just sat there, in the middle of the wreckage, and let the rain soak me to the bone for the rest of the night. By morning, Harbor City was buzzing with the scandal: Hayden Cole had returned, only to violently retaliate against his first love. As the sun rose, I prepared to leave. But first, I knelt before the wreckage and bowed my head three times, a final farewell. I didn't realize Hayden was there until he was standing right in front of me. He stepped over a pile of broken wood and hauled me to my feet with one hand. “It’s just a damn bar, Avery. You don’t have to destroy yourself over it.” I dusted off my hands, planted my feet firmly on the ground, and slapped him three times, hard, across the face. “My mother’s memorial plaque was in there,” I said, my voice hollow. “I can’t find it. So yes, I had to pay my respects.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Is that so? Three slaps in exchange for your mother’s plaque. Sounds like a fair trade.” I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the desolation that had once been my life. He wouldn’t shut up, following me and spewing a stream of vitriol designed to get a reaction. “Avery, I’m talking to you.” I kept walking as if I hadn't heard him. He rushed to catch up. “Don’t pretend you don’t care. Do you have any idea how awful you look right now? Stop the act.” “I was sick for a while,” I shot back, finally turning to face him. “It took a toll. But don’t flatter yourself. You really think you have the power to affect me anymore?” One thing was clear, though. He had come back specifically to make my life a living hell. If I were healthy, I wouldn’t have minded breaking a few more of his bones. But now… I just didn’t have the energy. … At the hospital, a panel of doctors studied my scans, their faces grim. “How many of the last pills I gave you are left?” my primary physician, Dr. Evans, asked. “None.” “None?!” He stared at me, aghast. “That was a three-month supply! You finished it in a week?” Dr. Evans had been managing my case from the beginning. The moment he started hedging, using vague language about my prognosis, I knew. I knew my time was short. “Where are… your parents?” he asked gently. “Dr. Evans, you of all people should know better,” I said with a wry smile. “We’ve known each other a long time. It’s just a few more years of suffering, then a handful of dust. I can handle it.” He adjusted his glasses, his expression pained. “Your emotional state was stable for three years. What happened this past week to cause such a drastic change?” I glanced at the news notification on my phone. Sometimes, the person you care about the least becomes the very thing that seals your fate. “Your condition is deteriorating rapidly,” he finally admitted. “Without the medication… it could be a week, a month, maybe three. There’s no way to know.” “Take this,” he said, pushing a new bottle of pills toward me. “When the pain comes, take three. Remember, no more than three at a time…” He didn’t get to finish. I twisted the cap off and poured a handful of pills into my mouth. I didn’t care how many. I’d take however many I needed until the pain stopped. A week or three months, it was all the same to me now. Afterward, I found an empty corner in the hospital and huddled there, my back pressed against the ice-cold wall, as wave after wave of pain and sweat washed over me. For ten minutes, I listened to the muffled sounds of prayers and whispered pleas drifting from a nearby surgical waiting room. The most desperate bargains with God are always made outside an operating theater. “Mommy, is that the lady from before?” a little girl’s voice piped up. “Now that we’re all better, should we go say goodbye to her?” “Her illness isn’t going to get better, sweetie,” the mother whispered back. “We shouldn’t bother her. Poor thing. No mother, no father, and so sick. She might die without anyone even there to claim her body.” The little girl looked up, confused. “But her mommy and daddy… isn't there someone in the world who cares about her?” I stared down at the blurry screen of my phone, rubbing my eyes. It was a text from Hayden. He’d been messaging me since last night, relentlessly asking about compensation. No one who cares, I thought. But maybe someone to claim the body. I pulled up the contact I hadn't called in a decade and pressed the button. He answered almost immediately. “Made up your mind?” he asked, his voice laced with impatience. “If you really want to compensate me, Hayden,” I said, “then you can collect my body.” 4 There was a three-second pause on the other end of the line, followed by a scornful laugh. “Someone as vicious as you, Avery? People like you live forever. But fine. If you do manage to die before me, don’t worry. I’ll give you the grandest funeral this city has ever seen. I’ll light a candle for you on every street corner in Harbor City.” With that promise, I hung up, satisfied. As I left the hospital, I saw the mother and daughter from the corridor. The little girl was puffing out her chest defiantly. “See? Someone does care about her! I care about her!” “Alright, alright, let’s go or we’ll miss the bus… oh, there it is!” her mother exclaimed, and they hurried off. I walked to the parking garage. When I drove out, they were still waiting at the bus stop, so I pulled over. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” I dropped them off downtown, their grateful thanks still ringing in my ears. As they walked away, I saw a familiar group coming out of a nearby restaurant. “Well, well, look who’s doing good deeds,” Seth sneered, spotting me. “Guess she’s trying to earn some good karma before it’s too late.” They were all drunk. Lily’s eyes, however, were sober and sharp as she stared at me. I had no desire to engage. I was about to drive off when Lily stepped forward and pressed her hand against my window. Her lips were curved into a sweet smile, but her eyes were cold as ice. “Avery, I just found out about your history with Hayden. I… I hope I didn’t offend you yesterday.” I tried to roll up the window, but she held it down firmly. “I have something for you,” she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “I really don’t have any hard feelings.” “I’m not interested in your act. Get lost.” Lily suddenly let go. Just as I was about to hit the gas, she pulled a small urn from her designer handbag. “I heard your mother’s memorial plaque was destroyed in the bar,” she said sweetly. “I was afraid you’d have nothing left to remember her by, so I went back this morning and gathered a handful of ash from the site.” She leaned in through the open window and, right before my eyes, tipped the urn over, pouring its contents onto the pavement. “Oh!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You didn’t catch it! You’re not mad at me, are you?” I watched her pathetic performance, a cold fury building inside me. Fine. She started this. The guys on the sidewalk were clueless, praising Lily’s magnanimity. “Wow, Lily, you’re so big-hearted. Talking to her without getting disgusted, and even bringing her a gift.” Lily shot a triumphant look over her shoulder as she walked toward the Porsche parked in front of me. She dangled the keys, a small celebration of her victory. I looked past her, my eyes landing on Seth. “I have a gift for her, too.” Seth scoffed. “What could you possibly give her?” I clicked my seatbelt into place. “A ride to hell.” Before the last word left my lips, I floored the accelerator.
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