I Was Her Stand-In for Four Years.

Just as Grace was about to head home to pack her things, her phone rang. It was Robert. His voice was filled with urgency and worry:

"Where are you? Why aren't you at the hospital? Come quickly."

Hadn’t he gone to be with Evelyn?

Despite the numbness in her heart from the pain, a small flicker of warmth stirred within her. Grace couldn’t help but laugh at herself, silently. The truth was right in front of her, yet a part of her still clung to a tiny bit of hope.

When she arrived at the nurse’s station, she found Robert standing there, his face full of anxiety, waiting for her.

He rushed over to her, grabbing her arm. "Grace, you're RH-negative, right? Hurry, come with me. A friend of mine was in a car accident, and your blood type is the same as hers. Nurse, please, hurry!"

He was about to push her arm into the nurse's hands, but Grace jerked her arm back with force.

"I don't want to," she said coldly.

Robert’s face twisted with frustration. "Grace, what happened to you? I thought you were a kind person. It's just a little blood. It’s not like you’re going to die from it."

He turned sharply and, with a cold glare, pushed her aside. "Don’t you realize you’re abandoning someone who needs help?"

Grace, barely able to keep herself steady, was shoved against the wall. Before she could feel the pain, she heard the nurse’s surprised voice.

"You’re bleeding from your face."

The wound that hadn’t fully healed had opened up again. The young nurse immediately began tending to her, speaking as she worked.

"Good thing you’re in the hospital. This could have gotten worse if it wasn’t taken care of right away. You have a clotting disorder, so you can’t donate blood."

"But don’t blame your friend. He was just too anxious. You and his girlfriend have the same rare blood type."

The nurse paused, then continued, "The attending physician said his girlfriend’s injuries aren’t serious—just some minor cuts. She doesn’t need a transfusion. With rest, she’ll recover just fine. But he wouldn’t believe it."

The nurse looked at Grace with a touch of envy. "I kind of envy her. If I could find a guy like that, I’d be so lucky. You should’ve seen him when he brought her in. His eyes were all red from worrying about her."

So, he was still thinking about Evelyn.

Grace said nothing in response. After the nurse finished dressing her wound, she left for home, knowing she’d never be waiting for Robert again.

Sure enough, Robert didn’t return until after midnight.

In the darkness, Robert felt an unfamiliar sense of confusion. No matter how late he came home before, Grace had always kept the lights on, waiting for him. Then she would wrap her arms around his neck and tease him.

But tonight... nothing.

Guilt, mixed with an uneasy feeling, settled deep inside him.

He climbed into bed and gently held Grace’s slender form from behind, his voice muffled as he spoke, "I’m sorry."

"Grace... uh, my friend’s injuries were worse than I thought. I was so worried I forgot about your clotting disorder. You can’t donate blood. Please, don’t be mad. Can you forgive me? Please?"

He gently traced his fingers along her back in a familiar, comforting gesture—a gesture that had once meant quiet understanding between them.

But now, as he breathed heavily behind her, all Grace felt was bitter irony. She reached down and grabbed his hand as it moved lower.

For four years, she had given herself to him, believing it was love. But now, she realized that to him, she had always been nothing more than a useful tool.

Now that his "true love" had returned, wasn’t it time for her—the stand-in—to step aside?

With a cold indifference, she dismissed him. "I’m not feeling well."