He Called Off Our Forever

Amanda POV: A high-pitched beep-beep-beep tore through the haze of my unconsciousness. It was a medical monitor, an insistent reminder that I was alive, but barely. My eyes fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room blinding me. "Amanda! You' re awake!" Benjamin' s voice, thick with relief, cut through the quiet. He was there, hovering over my bed, his face pale and drawn. I tried to move, but a jolt of searing pain shot through my right arm. It was encased in a heavy cast, suspended in a sling. My head throbbed. A nurse rushed in, checking the monitors. "Mr. Kane, please give her some space. She needs to rest." Benjamin ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. "Amanda, my God. I was so worried. Are you in pain? The doctors said your arm was… shattered. And there was a concussion. I told them to call the best specialists, no expense spared." His words, meant to be comforting, rang hollow. I remembered the voices from the rooftop, the chilling revelation of the "karma transfer." Her suffering was diverted onto you. The nurse gently pushed a button on my IV pump. "This will help with the pain, dear. Just relax." A wave of blessed relief washed over me as the pain medication kicked in. The edges of the world softened. I could think, though my thoughts were slow and heavy. I looked at Benjamin. His eyes were wide with what looked like genuine concern. He was holding my left hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles. The touch, once so comforting, now felt alien, almost grotesque. It was a reflex for him, a familiar gesture for the woman he used to love. He leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Amanda, I promise, I' ll make everything right. I don' t know what happened, but I' ll take care of you. Just tell me what you need." I pulled my hand away, slowly, deliberately. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes. His face fell. He looked hurt, confused. But there was no anger. Just a profound sadness, the kind you get when you realize you' ve broken something irreparably. He loves Jenna now, a voice whispered in my head. He believes she' s his soulmate. His concern for you is guilt. A formality. A habit. And in that moment, I accepted it. There was a strange, chilling peace in that acceptance. It was over. All of it. The love, the dreams, the future. A single tear escaped my eye, trailing a path down my temple. It wasn' t a tear of pain, or even anger. It was a tear of loss. For the girl I used to be, for the future I had envisioned, for the man I thought I knew. Benjamin saw the tear. He reached for me again, his face a contorted mask of distress. "Amanda? What' s wrong? Are you hurting?" But before he could touch me, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. He silenced it, but it buzzed again almost immediately. Then again. It was incessant. I didn't need to see the screen to know who it was. Jenna. Always Jenna. He finally answered, stepping out of the room, his voice low and apologetic. "Jenna? I told you I' d call you back. I' m with Amanda right now." There was a pause, then his voice grew softer, more concerned. "What? Are you okay? Did something else happen?" I lay there, listening to the muffled conversation, my heart a dull ache. My mentor, Professor Davies, walked in then, her face etched with concern, a soft bouquet of lilies in her hand. "Amanda, dear. How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice gentle. "Better, Professor," I managed, my voice raspy. She pulled up a chair. "The police have finished their investigation into Derek. He' s been apprehended. They found some disturbing messages on his computer, targeting you, but also… another student. Jenna Christian. It seems he developed an unhealthy obsession with both of you." She paused, her gaze softening. "But you, Amanda, were the one he fixated on at the end." I nodded slowly. The "karma transfer" again. It was all real. "There' s also… a small issue regarding your graduation honors." Professor Davies hesitated. "It seems some of your fellow students are questioning the originality of your final collection, particularly the phoenix motif. Citing… another student' s work." My jaw tightened. Jenna. Of course. She wasn' t just stealing Benjamin; she was trying to steal my career too. A bitter laugh escaped me. "Does it matter, Professor?" I asked, my voice flat. "My arm is broken. My career as a designer, at least for now, is over." Professor Davies shook her head. "No, Amanda. It' s not over. Not at all. In fact, I have some excellent news." She reached into her bag and pulled out a crisp, official-looking letter. "The École de la Chambre Syndicale in Paris. They' ve confirmed your acceptance to their scholarship program. And they' ve been in touch. They' re willing to defer your start date to allow for your recovery, and they' ve even offered a specialized rehabilitation program for your arm, given your potential." My breath hitched. Paris. My escape. My future. It wasn' t a dream anymore; it was a lifeline. "They did?" "Yes. They believe in your talent, Amanda. And so do I." She smiled, a genuine, warm smile. "So, what do you say? Ready for Paris?" A surge of something akin to hope, fragile but real, flickered within me. "Yes, Professor. Absolutely yes." Just then, Benjamin re-entered the room, his face tense. He saw the letter in Professor Davies' hand, then glanced at my expression. His eyes widened in disbelief. "Paris?" he exclaimed, his voice sharp. "What are you talking about, Amanda? You' re not going anywhere. You' re hurt. You need to recover here. With me." He turned to Professor Davies, his tone accusatory. "Professor, what is this? Amanda can' t possibly move to Paris right now!" Professor Davies raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Kane, this is Amanda' s decision. And it' s a remarkable opportunity. She' s a brilliant student." "But… but we had plans!" Benjamin stammered, his gaze frantic, darting between me and the professor. "We were going to get married! Start a life here!" My eyes met his. The desperation in his voice, the sudden possessiveness, it was all too late. He had lost the right to speak of our future. Just then, Professor Davies' phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, a small frown on her face. "Oh, Benjamin. It seems Jenna Christian is looking for you. She' s quite distraught. Something about another incident at her apartment." Benjamin' s head snapped towards her, his eyes wide with alarm. "Jenna? Distraught? What happened?" All thoughts of me, of Paris, of our shattered past, vanished from his face. His responsibility to Jenna, his 'soulmate', overridden everything else. He didn't even look at me as he rushed out of the room, pulling out his phone, already calling Jenna. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading into the distance. I watched him go, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach. He was exactly the man the future self had described, blindly running towards the woman who would ruin him, leaving me to face the consequences. He was gone. And this time, I wouldn' t be waiting for him to come back.