Chapter 1

Duane Stephens gave away the life-saving blood I'd stored for seven years to the daughter of his childhood friend.

His friends tried hard to talk him out of it:

"What about Serena Vaughn, then?"

"She has that rare dual-population chimeric blood type. Lifelong transfusion risk. Without stored blood, one emergency and she's dead."

Duane was silent for a long time. In the end he said quietly,

"Josie is Alma's daughter. She's still little. She needs this blood more than Serena does."

Someone still couldn't accept it. "But Serena's five months pregnant now. You know better than anyone what the risk is without stored blood. If she hemorrhages, that's two lives gone!"

Duane didn't hesitate.

"Then she can hold off on the baby for now. Serena always listens to me."

I lowered my head and looked at the prenatal report I'd just been handed, and everything suddenly felt unreal.

The one who used to be terrified something would happen to me, who begged me over and over to draw blood and bank it, was Duane Stephens.

And the one who now, for Alma Fox's daughter, took my life-saving blood without a word to me was also Duane Stephens.

The words in front of me, 'Twins viable,' read like a quiet mockery.

I turned and went to the front desk to book an induced abortion.

Fine. I'd do it his way. No baby.

And no him, either.

……

When I booked the procedure, the nurse's tone turned grave.

"Are you sure about this?"

"With your blood type and your long-term anemia, an induced abortion carries real risk. Does… does Dr. Stephens know about this?"

I nodded and only said, "Yes. I'm sure."

Whether Duane knew or not didn't matter anymore.

From the moment he took the blood I'd stored for seven years, a knife had been hanging over my head.

Right before the anesthesia, Duane called.

"Serena, a colleague said they saw you at the hospital. Did you come to have lunch with me?"

Behind him I could hear the hospital PA system, and a woman's voice, low and soft, coaxing someone.

He went on before I could answer. "I can't have lunch with you today. Josie isn't doing well right now. Alma's calming her down, and I need to stay here."

I sat in the empty waiting area, looking at the pre-surgery risk consent form in front of me.

I asked him, "What gives her the right not to be doing well?"

"What?" He clearly hadn't expected me to say anything like that.

My voice was very calm. "I said, Duane, after burning through the life-saving blood I stored for seven years, what gives her the right not to be doing well?"

The other end went silent.

A long moment later, footsteps, and then Duane's voice, dropped low.

"You already know?"

He drew in a deep breath. "Serena, Josie is like you. She has two hematopoietic cell populations in her body. Right now, only your blood is a successful match. She's still so young. I couldn't just not save her."

"Is that so?"

He seemed to catch something in my tone, and his voice went quieter.

"Don't make this more complicated than it is. Even if she weren't Alma's child, I'd have saved her all the same."

He said it so righteously, as if he'd forgotten that this was blood drawn out of my body one tube at a time over seven years.

I asked him, "Then what about me?"

Duane was quiet for two seconds, his voice tired.

"Serena, you're perfectly healthy right now."

"So?"

He said, "So stop making a scene, okay?"

"A scene?"

I repeated the word softly.

I reminded him, "Duane, I paid the storage fee for that blood. It's only being kept at the hospital, not donated. Without my consent, no one has the right to touch it."

Duane's voice suddenly rose a notch.

"The blood's been used now, it can't be drawn back out. So what are you going to do, report me?!"

After a short silence, he rubbed the space between his brows.

"Serena, I don't have the energy to fight with you right now. Let's talk it through properly when I get home tonight, okay?"

When I said nothing, he sighed and added a reminder.

"Your anemia gets worse in the second trimester. Remember to take your iron tablets when you get home."

Duane knew I always got anemic when I was pregnant.

He knew that over the past seven years, I'd had 200ml of blood drawn every month to bank.

He knew how rare the dual-population chimeric blood type was, how hard it was to match with any other blood.

He knew everything.

And still he gave away the life-saving blood I'd stored for seven years.

Never once asked me whether I agreed.

I didn't say a word. I just hung up.

As they were about to give me the anesthesia, a post popped up in my social media feed.

Alma had put up a photo.

In a hospital room, she and Duane were gathered around a little girl, a birthday cake in front of them.

The caption read—

[Three full blood exchanges, and my Josie is finally born again.

Thank you, dear Dr. Stephens. It's so good to have you.]

Below it, plenty of mutual friends had left their blessings.

Duane had commented, "Wishing baby Josie health and happiness forever."

I touched my rounded belly.

And all at once there was a bitterness in my mouth I couldn't stand.