Second Life Payback Letting Her Taste the AIDS-Stricken 'Soulmate'

Chapter 1

My eyes flew open as Mia Jefferson's voice sliced through the air like broken glass.

"What's wrong with Evan? Say something already!"

The sterile tang of disinfectant hit me. I looked around and realized—I was standing in a hospital hallway. Mia's heavily made-up face was inches from mine, her eyes wide with panic and irritation.

I glanced down at the test report in my hand. One line burned itself into my brain: HIV-positive.

And just like that, the memories came rushing back.

In my past life, this was the moment I told Mia her beloved best friend Evan had AIDS. She slapped me across the face in front of half the ER staff. A month later, I died in a house fire—set off by someone who never should've known the truth.

"What's wrong with you?" Mia shoved me. "Is Evan okay or not?!"

I slowly folded the report and forced a smile. "It's nothing. Just a few minor injuries."

She let out a breath, her shoulders sinking. Then her brows knit again. "Then what was that face you made earlier?"

"I'm probably just tired," I said coolly. "You should go be with him. I've got rounds."

I turned away before she could respond, but I heard her mutter, "Freak."

The glass at the end of the hallway caught my reflection—too pale, too still. Evan was just behind that wall, unconscious. Last time, I told Mia the truth. This time, I chose silence.

My phone buzzed. A text from Mia.

Staying with Evan tonight. You can go home.

I stared at the message for a beat before typing back:

Got it. Be safe.

Then I headed for the records room.

If fate had given me a second shot at life, then some debts were coming due.

"The wound wasn't deep," I told her hours later. "It's treated. He just needs rest."

Mia's whole posture softened, then she snapped, "Why didn't you say that earlier? You scared me half to death with that face of yours!"

She stepped forward, practically jabbing a manicured nail into my chest. "If Evan loses even one hair, I'm holding you responsible, Ryan Hodgson."

I slipped off my stethoscope and gave her a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I follow hospital protocol. Always."

She slammed the door behind her hard enough to shake the walls.

"Dr. Hodgson…" A nurse approached, holding out a paper cup of coffee. She looked hesitant. "Evan Sutherland's HIV results just came in. He's… positive."

I didn't flinch. I kept my eyes on the patient records glowing on my monitor.

"Patient confidentiality is protected by law."

"I know," she said gently. "It's just… Miss Jefferson was feeding him soup with her spoon."

The smell of antiseptic suddenly felt suffocating. I loosened my tie, reached for my pen, and signed the prescription form in front of me.

"We broke up," I said, barely above a whisper.

Her hand froze mid-air with the coffee.

"Last week."

A silence settled over the room. The clinic's wall clock ticked, steady and loud.