3 Years as Your Backup Wife, 1 Text to Crash Your World: 'Guess Which Twin Left?' - Chapter 78: Chapter 78

Harper hadn't expected to wake up alive.
When her eyes finally fluttered open, she found Jemma beside her bed, mascara streaked down her cheeks.
"Oh my God, Harper," Jemma choked out, grabbing her hand carefully. "I thought we'd lost you. Does it hurt bad? The doctors say you've got second-degree burns, but I pulled strings to get that specialist from Mount Sinai—the one who worked on that movie star after her yacht accident. He swears you won't have scars."
"It's just a few burns," Harper reassured her, forcing a smile despite the white-hot pain radiating through her bandaged hands. She reached out and hugged Jemma anyway. "Nothing worth crying over."
"Actually," she continued softly, "there's something I've been trying to tell you since yesterday. Don't flip out, okay?" She took a steadying breath. "I'm flying back to Boston this afternoon. That arranged marriage situation my parents set up years ago? I've decided to go through with it. My flight's already booked. Would you... maybe drive me to the airport?"
Jemma's jaw dropped, fresh tears instantly spilling.
"What the actual fuck? You're just bailing? To marry some random guy your parents picked? So that's it—you're gone for good? What am I supposed to do without you?" She dissolved into hiccupping sobs.
Harper spent the next thirty minutes talking Jemma down from her emotional ledge, promising regular FaceTime sessions and holiday visits until her friend finally got herself together.
After tearfully exchanging contacts for Jemma's therapist "just in case," Jemma reluctantly went to handle the discharge paperwork.
Harper had just finished struggling into jeans and a loose sweater, gritting her teeth with every movement, when the door banged open. Dylan stood in the doorway, his face a thundercloud.
"You attacked her and then tried to burn her alive," he stated flatly. Not a question.
Seeing him now, Harper felt absolutely nothing—no flutter, no pain, just emptiness.
"Ruby fed you that bullshit and you just swallowed it whole? Without a shred of proof?" Her voice was equally cold.
"Damn right. Whatever Ruby tells me, I believe without question. I don't need fucking proof."
His mind was already made up. His judgment already passed.
Looking at his hostile glare, Harper knew arguing was pointless.
She let out a small, humorless laugh. "So what exactly do you want from me?"
"You're going to drag your ass to Ruby's room and apologize. Now."
Without warning, Dylan grabbed her injured hand, intending to physically force her down the hall.
Harper gasped as his grip tore open her barely closed wounds, blood immediately soaking through the white gauze. Tears sprang to her eyes from the searing pain.
But she'd be damned if she'd cry in front of him. She yanked back, desperately trying to break free.
Just then, Jemma burst back into the room and immediately wedged herself between them.
"Get your hands off her!" she shouted, shoving her brother back.
Dylan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Move, Jemma. She's apologizing to Ruby if I have to carry her there myself."
"Over my dead body!" Jemma shot back, planting her feet. "Harper didn't do shit wrong! You may be completely whipped by that manipulative bitch, but newsflash—I had security cameras in my room. Everything that happened is on video. If you're so desperate for apologies, wait until we check the goddamn footage!"
A vein visibly throbbed in Dylan's temple as he opened his mouth to retaliate, when his phone buzzed. He glanced down at Ruby's text.
He inhaled sharply, visibly struggling to contain his rage. "Fine. We'll watch the security footage tonight. When it proves exactly what happened, let's see what pathetic excuse you come up with then."
He slammed the door hard enough to rattle the medical equipment, leaving the room in sudden, ringing silence.
While dabbing antiseptic on Harper's reopened wounds, Jemma kept apologizing for her brother's behavior.
"Don't," Harper said softly, wiping away Jemma's tears with her least damaged fingertips. "You've never done anything wrong. I'm leaving soon, but promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay? Don't let them steamroll you."
Jemma nodded shakily, helped collect Harper's belongings, and drove her straight to JFK.
As the final boarding call for Boston echoed through the terminal, Harper gave Jemma one last fierce hug before walking through security without looking back.
Once buckled into her window seat, she deleted every trace of Dylan from her phone—contacts, photos, text threads, all of it.
Jemma's final text came through just before the flight attendant announced airplane mode:
"This isn't over. I'm getting to the bottom of this tonight and making them both eat crow. Love you tons. Call me when you land."
Harper smiled faintly at the screen before turning to watch the ground disappear beneath her.
Truth, justice, closure—none of it mattered anymore.
After all, Dylan Rodriguez and all the pain he'd inflicted had already vanished from her memory.
She was leaving it all behind.
Completely.
Permanently.
Finally free.