Til Revenge Do Us Part

Natalie's POV

The phone rang sharply, pulling me out of my thoughts. I sighed, setting my pencil down on the table and glancing at the unfinished necklace sketch in front of me.

The ringing echoed through the quiet house as I hurried to the sitting room to answer it.

"Hello?" I said, keeping my voice calm.

"Natalie?" a low, serious voice said. "This is Dr. Stefan. I need to talk to your husband."

My stomach dropped. "He's not here right now. Is everything okay?"

There was a long pause. "We're running out of time," the doctor said quietly. "His condition is getting worse, and we still haven't found a donor. If we don't find a match soon..."

He didn't need to finish. My mind was already racing.

"What about his family?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"We've tested all his relatives," he replied. "None are a match."

The words hit me hard, and I gripped the phone tighter. "What about me?" I asked, my throat tight. "Could I be a match?"

"I don't know yet," Dr. Stefan said. "But it's your only option."

The rest of the conversation faded. I hung up, my hands shaking as I stared at the phone. Damien had never told me it was this serious.

When he walked in later, I didn't hold back. At dinner, I brought it up, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tension in my chest.

"Your doctor called," I said, watching his reaction. "Why didn't you tell me things were this bad?"

He paused, his fork stopping mid-air before he put it down. "I didn't want to worry you. I'm handling it."

"Handling it?" I repeated, shocked. "Damien, there's no match! The doctor said-"

"I know what he said," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "I'm doing everything I can."

I leaned in, not backing down. "What if I get tested?"

He reacted immediately, his fork clinking against the plate. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's too risky," he said, his voice getting louder. Then, quieter, "I don't want you putting yourself at risk."

I looked at him for a long moment, something about his reaction feeling off. "What if I'm the match? What if I can save you?"

"Natalie," he said, his tone softer. "I can't let you do that."

I leaned forward, locking eyes with Damien. "You're my husband. If there's even a chance I can save you, I have to try. Don't expect me to just stand by and do nothing."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Fine," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. His guarded expression made it clear he wasn't telling me everything.

...

That night, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that Damien wasn't telling me everything.

And as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, he was downstairs in his study.

He was working late again. I could hear his voice faintly through the walls as he talked on the phone, his words muffled by the thick walls of our house.

It was hours before he finally came to bed. By then, I'd already fallen into a light sleep, worn out from the day.

When I woke up, I noticed he was already up, his side of the bed empty. A sense of unease washed over me, but I shook it off.

...

I walked into the hospital that morning, the sharp smell of disinfectant hitting me as the doors opened. The halls seemed quieter than usual, or maybe it just felt that way to me. Each step felt heavier, my heart pounding as I thought about the decision I was about to make.

Damien had insisted on coming with me, but I told him to stay at home and rest. He didn't need to see me go through the procedure. Besides, I was doing this for him, for us. Well, I had to.

The nurse who greeted me was kind, her smile warm but her eyes tired, as though she'd seen too many patients come and go. "Mrs. Malgrave, we'll start with some initial tests before we proceed with the match screening," she said gently.

"It'll take a few hours, so please make yourself comfortable. We'll check your blood, do a physical examination, and make sure you're healthy enough to undergo the procedure."

I nodded, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in my head. I never imagined I'd be dealing with something like this-a transplant? But here I was, facing a choice that could save Damien's life and change everything.

The next few hours passed in a blur. I was poked, examined, and bombarded with questions, but none of it mattered compared to the one thought stuck in my mind: Could I save him?

When the test results came back, the doctor called me into his office. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I sat across from him. The news was fast-almost too fast.

"Mrs. Malgrave, I have the results," the doctor said, looking over his clipboard. "The good news is, you are a 94% match for your husband's bone marrow transplant. That's a very strong match."

For a moment, I just stared at him. 94%? It didn't seem real. The words felt unreal.

"You're sure?" I asked, needing to hear it again to believe it. "I mean, absolutely sure?"

The doctor gave a small, strained smile. "Yes, Mrs. Malgrave. We've never seen such a high match before. You're exactly what he needs."

Relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by anxiety. This could save him. This could finally end my husband's pain and uncertainty he'd been living with.

He saw the hope in my eyes. "I need to be clear with you," the doctor said. "The transplant has to happen within a month. His condition is getting worse, and every day we wait is a risk. We recommend doing it as soon as possible, ideally within the next week. The procedure is safest during the third trimester, but there are still risks-for both you and the baby."

My heart dropped at the mention of my baby. "What kind of risks?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

"We'll monitor you closely," the doctor said, "but there's a chance of complications-preterm labor, infection... it's not a decision to take lightly."

A chill ran down my spine. The third trimester. The baby. What if something went wrong? What if I was risking my child's life?

"I understand the risks," I said quietly. "But I'm willing to do it. For him."

The doctor nodded, though his expression was full of concern. "I need you to be sure, Mrs. Malgrave. There's no going back after the procedure."

I didn't hesitate. "I'm sure."

...