He Saved His Sister and Left Me to Die

The airplane hummed beneath me as I settled into my assigned seat, 7A. Seven years. It had been seven years since I'd last set foot in the United States. Seven years since I'd walked away from the wreckage of my life here. Seven years of careful rebuilding, piece by broken piece.

I pulled out my passport and citizenship paperwork, reviewing the final documents that would officially make me a resident of Country S. Quinn had insisted on handling most of the legal work, but I needed to sign these papers in person. Just a quick trip, I'd told him. In and out. No complications.

"Rebecca?"

The voice hit me like a physical blow. I knew it instantly, though it sounded rougher than I remembered. My fingers froze on the passport page as I looked up.

Jack Alexander stood in the aisle, his carry-on bag dangling forgotten from his hand. His eyes—those piercing blue eyes that once made my heart race—widened as they locked onto mine. The years hadn't been kind to him. Deep lines etched the corners of his mouth, and his once-immaculate suit hung slightly loose on his frame, as if he'd lost weight rapidly.

My chest tightened involuntarily, my fingers instinctively moving to press against my sternum. The artificial heart beneath my skin beat steadily, mechanically—a constant reminder of what I'd lost.

"You're..." His voice cracked. "You're alive."

I turned my face toward the window, pretending to be interested in the airport terminal below. "Apparently."

"Rebecca." He dropped into the seat beside me—my seatmate. Of course. The universe had a cruel sense of humor. "I've been searching for you for seven years. Do you have any idea what I've been through? What I've done to find you?"

The flight attendants began their pre-flight announcements, their cheerful voices a jarring contrast to the tension crackling between us.

"Why did you disappear?" Jack's words tumbled out faster now, desperate and raw. "I looked everywhere. I hired private investigators. I contacted every hospital, every doctor. I even checked morgues."

"Maybe you should have tried looking in a mirror," I said quietly.

His hand reached for mine, but I pulled away before he could touch me. "Rebecca, please. I need to know what happened to you after..."

"After you chose to save Kennedy instead of me?" The words escaped before I could stop them.

Jack flinched as if I'd struck him. "I didn't know—"

"You didn't know I was still alive?" I laughed, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "Or you didn't know that shrapnel would tear through my chest when that bomb exploded?"

The plane began to taxi down the runway, but Jack's eyes never left my face. "What bomb? Rebecca, what are you talking about?"

The question triggered something inside me—a floodgate of memories I'd spent years trying to dam up.

*The warehouse. Kennedy's terrified scream. Jack's arm around her shoulders as he carried her to safety.*

*The explosion. The deafening roar. The searing pain as something tore through my chest.*

*The darkness. The cold. The beeping machines.*

*"Ms. Duncan, you're awake." Dr. Martinez's face hovering above me, her expression grave. "You're lucky to be alive. The shrapnel missed your heart by millimeters, but the damage was extensive. We've implanted an artificial heart. It will extend your life, but there are... limitations."*

*"Will I be able to love again?"*

*Dr. Martinez's pause. "The emotional triggers that cause your heart to race might be problematic. I wouldn't recommend intense emotional connections."*

"Rebecca!" Jack's voice cut through the flashback. His face was inches from mine, panic etched across his features. "You're white as a sheet. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I managed, forcing myself back to the present. The plane had leveled off, cruising above the clouds now. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You haven't been fine for seven years." His voice dropped lower. "Neither have I."

The plane touched down at Sea-Tac with a gentle bump that seemed to echo through my chest cavity. Jack reached for my overhead bag, but I stood abruptly, stepping into the aisle.

"I can manage," I said coldly.

"Rebecca, wait." He followed me down the jetway, his desperation palpable. "We need to talk. Please. Just give me five minutes—"

"Here!" A familiar voice cut through the airport noise. Naya waved frantically from beyond the security barrier, her dark curls bouncing as she jumped up and down. My best friend. My anchor.

I turned to Jack, allowing my left hand to swing forward as I reached for my luggage cart. The diamond wedding band caught the fluorescent light.

"I'm married now," I said simply.

The color drained from Jack's face as he stared at the ring. For a moment, he looked like he might collapse.

"Rebecca..." His voice was barely audible above the airport announcements.

I didn't wait for him to finish. With Naya's arms already wrapped around me in a fierce hug, I walked away without looking back.

But I could feel his eyes on me—the weight of his gaze, the crushing pressure of his regret—as I stepped into my new life and left the wreckage of the old one behind.