Twenty-Six receipts of betrayal Novel novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Ms. Kingston, this is calling from Dignitas Switzerland. I’m confirming–you applied for euthanasia on December 25th?”

Elara Kingston’s lashes fluttered slightly, her voice steady. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“Your application’s been approved. You’ve got two weeks to get your affairs in order.”

The second she hung up, the bedroom door burst open.

Nicholas Sterling breezed in with a blast of cold air. The moment he spotted her, his face broke into a smile as he held up a fancy wrapped box. “Hey, babe. Happy birthday.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “My birthday was yesterday.”

Nicholas froze mid–motion. Panic and embarrassment flickered across his face.

“Sorry, work’s been crazy lately.”

He dropped to his knees beside her wheelchair, changing the subject as his hands found her calves. “How’re you feeling today? Legs doing okay?”

He pressed too hard. His long fingers turned red, veins popping on the backs of his hands.

His massage technique was professional, the pressure precise. But Elara felt nothing.

When she didn’t answer, Nicholas glanced up, mouth opening to speak–then his phone buzzed.

He yanked it out. The second he saw who it was, pure joy lit up his face.

Whatever he’d been about to say died on his lips. He shot to his feet, already moving toward his study.

“Babe, I gotta handle something for work real quick. I’ll come back and finish your massage in a bit, okay?”

Elara said nothing. She simply watched him leave.

Even after he vanished through the doorway, that smile of his–the one he couldn’t quite hide–kept playing on repeat in her head.

Would work make someone smile like THAT?

That kind of smile, the genuine kind that reached your eyes? That only showed up for someone you were crazy about.

After all, she’d seen that smile many times before.

Every morning in high school, she’d rush downstairs after gulping down her milk, and there he’d be–Nicholas, grinning just like that. He’d walk over with that same smile, take her heavy backpack, and drive her to school.

Back then, they were both eighteen. Young, bright–eyed, bursting with life. They only had eyes for each other.

Two childhood sweethearts, just like a storybook cliché, had fallen for each other.

They dated in secret, hiding from teachers and parents, promising to get into the same college together so they could finally go public.

They pushed each other hard, studied their asses off. Both got near–perfect SAT scores and landed spots at Princeton.

Everything should have ended perfectly there.

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Twenty–Six Receipts of Betrayal: My Silence Was the Countdown to His Eternal Regret

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Chapter 1

But then came the accident.

The day before freshman orientation, they were in a car crash. In that split second, Elara shoved Nicholas out of harm’s way.

That day. Nicholas walked away unscathed. Elara lost both her legs.

When it rains, it fucking pours. That same year, her parents died in a plane crash. Unable to process the cascading tragedies, Elara spiraled into severe depression.

Nicholas was heartbroken. The day they graduated, he proposed.

He made her a solemn promise: he would never let her down.

And for three years, he did.

Until two weeks ago, when she found his journal.

The man who whispered “I love you” every night had been bleeding his real feelings onto those pages.

He wrote that his proposal had been driven by moral obligation. If he didn’t marry her, everyone would have condemned him.

He wrote that coming home suffocated him. Every minute beside her felt like torture.

He wrote that if he could do it all over again, he’d rather she hadn’t saved him. He’d rather be the one in the wheelchair for life–at least then he

wouldn’t carry this crushing guilt.

He wrote that he’d fallen for someone else. A girl named Valentina Cross. Bubbly, gorgeous, full of life. Just like Elara used to be before the crash.

The next day, Valentina texted her.

[Hey Elara. Nicholas told me your legs are never gonna get better? Look, you guys have history, I get it. But don’t you think it’s time to let him go?]

[You have no idea how miserable he is. He literally told me he wants to die sometimes. But he can’t, because he has to come home and play

nurse. That’s so fucked up.]

[If he hadn’t met me, he would’ve lost it by now. Doesn’t that make you feel bad? He loves ME now. So can you please just stop holding onto

him? Let’s be adults here. Divorce him and let us be happy.]

Then came the flood of photos–a dozen intimate snapshots of them.

All focused on Nicholas.

Him smiling as he brewed coffee, playfully leaning into Valentina’s selfie with a peace sign.

Him peeling a mountain of shrimp and placing it in front of Valentina, wiping sauce off her fingers.

Him following Valentina’s footprints on a beach in Montauk, grinning as he handed her a bunch of seashells.

By the last photo, Elara’s chest felt like it was being carved open with a thousand knives.

But no tears came. Only emptiness.

She didn’t reply. But Valentina wasn’t done.

Every single day after that, more photos showed up. Each one time–stamped.

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Twenty–Six Receipts of Betrayal: My Silence Was the Countdown to His Eternal Regret

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Chapter 1

November 21st: Strolling through Central Park at sunset.

November 26th: Pottery class in Brooklyn, making matching mugs.

December 1st: Jazz concert at Lincoln Center, talking about the future.

Every timestamp lined up perfectly with Nicholas’s “Sorry babe, stuck at the office” texts.

Even yesterday–her birthday–she’d waited for him all day and all night.

He never came home.

Because he was watching the Brooklyn Bridge fireworks with Valentina instead.

Looking at those photos, Elara laughed until the laughter turned to tears.

Seventeen–year–old Nicholas Sterling had loved seventeen–year–old Elara Kingston with his whole heart.

But twenty–five–year–old Nicholas Sterling didn’t love twenty–five–year–old Elara Kingston anymore.

That night, she sat by the window watching the city lights until dawn broke. The next morning, she contacted Dignitas and filled out all the paperwork.

Nicholas, I have nothing left. Nothing but YOU.

And you look at me like I’m your prison sentence.

So I choose to let you go.

And let myself go, too.

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Ve Silence Was the Countdown to His Eternal Regret