Cut My Liver, Cut You Out

My boyfriend, Harvey Seinfeld, got diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant.

When I found out I was a match, I didn't think twice. Two-thirds of my liver—gone. The pain was brutal. As soon as I came to, I dragged myself to his room.

Right before I walked in, I heard him laughing with his friends.

"Harvey, you're a genius for coming up with such an epic revenge plan."

He snorted. "If I didn't have to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun.

"It's her fault Vivi bombed her art exam and had to study abroad. Vivi's coming back next month. That's when I'll be done with her for good."

Through the crack in the door, I saw Harvey—sitting up in bed, looking perfectly fine. Rosy cheeks, not a hint of sickness. His friends were still buzzing with excitement.

"Back in college, you hired people to mess with Leah, made the whole class freeze her out. She couldn't even go back to the dorm for a month."

"And right before graduation, you had her final project deleted. Sharon Cartier missed out on an award because of it, and Leah got dragged into an empty classroom and had her hand broken."

"Counting this time, that makes ninety-three. Just six more, and it'll be enough to put together a confession book for Vivi. She'll be moved to tears when she sees how dedicated you are!"

A wave of nausea slammed into me. The love I thought was heaven-sent turned out to be nothing but cold, calculated revenge.

I tried to leave, but my body—still weak from surgery—gave out, and I crashed to the floor. Pain ripped through me as the incision tore open, blood soaking my gown.

The doctors warned me not to donate—my health was always shaky. But I did it anyway, desperate to ease Harvey's pain.

This was the hospital's fanciest VIP ward—completely empty to keep it quiet for him. The second I hit the floor, they noticed.

Harvey's face twisted when he saw me. "Leah, you just had surgery—how are you here?"

Before I could answer, he shoved the guy next to him. "Go help Leah! Get her wound treated!"

His friends scrambled to pick me up and set me on the bed. Harvey stroked my face, all fake tenderness.

He grabbed a bottle of disinfectant from the table. "The doctors are busy. Let me clean it for now, okay? Once they're free, they'll rebandage it."

He sounded just as gentle as always. If I didn't know better, I might've seen guilt in his eyes. But I knew now—it was all an act.

It hit me then—he ignored me for three years, but the second the exam results dropped, he suddenly confessed. All for his precious Vivi Baldwin.

I actually thought my sincerity moved him. Knew he used to love her, but I still gave him everything.

Pain shot through me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, teeth clenched as the incision burned. Harvey ripped off the bandage and poured disinfectant on the wound.

A searing, corrosive pain tore through my side, and I screamed, shoving him away. He stumbled back, hit the bed railing with a grunt, then kicked me off the bed.

I curled up on the floor, clutching my wound, gasping for air. That's when the on-call doctors finally rushed in. One of them saw the raw, blistered skin and froze.

"What did you do to her? This is a caustic burn—sodium hydroxide!"

"What? That's impossible!" Harvey put on a perfect look of shock, glancing at the table like it betrayed him. "I bought disinfectant and sanitizer online—just trying to keep the wound clean.

"When Leah started bleeding, I panicked and didn't check...

"Babe, I'm sorry! It's my fault—I hurt you again!"

He pounded his chest like he was devastated. But I knew better. If he really cared, he wouldn't have kicked me like that.

I stayed quiet, letting the doctors lift me onto a stretcher. As they wheeled me out, I heard cheers from Harvey's room.

"Harvey, you're a genius! You knew Leah would come check on you and swapped the disinfectant with sodium hydroxide. That wretch just got burned—bet it'll scar for life!"

"Did you see her crawling on the floor like a dog? I almost died laughing!"

My fists clenched. Even after figuring out the truth, hearing it firsthand still ripped me apart.

Once the doctors left, I grabbed my phone and booked a spot at a rehab center. Then I dialed that familiar overseas number.

"Mom, I've made up my mind. I want to come home."