My smart girl 3. Rewriting our stars

The next day, I felt a little stronger. The sharp, chemical scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the IV line taped to the back of my hand. The morning drip had finished, but the heart monitor continued its steady, rhythmic beeping — a constant mechanical reminder that I was still alive, still fighting. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh, bluish-white glow across the pale mint walls, the scuffed linoleum floor, and the thin white sheets that carried the sterile smell of hospital detergent. I was sitting up in bed, slowly dragging a comb through my tangled hair, when the door clicked open. I expected Jungkook or a nurse, but instead, a tall, slender woman with sleek dark hair and blood-red lips stepped inside. Ivy. My stomach twisted painfully. I recognized her instantly. She closed the door with a soft click and strolled through the room, her sharp heels clicking against the floor. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she eyed the IV stand, the half-eaten tray of bland hospital food, and the various tubes connected to me. Then her gaze settled on me with cold curiosity. “So you’re the ‘good girl’ he traded me for,” she said softly, each word dripping with venom. “How adorably tragic.” I lowered the comb to my lap, my fingers tightening around it. “Hi, Ivy. Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Of course not. Jay’s always been so careful to hide his little charity projects.” She leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed, looking effortlessly put-together in her designer clothes. “Tell me, Rosé — does the smell of sickness and disinfectant excite him now? Or is it just the thrill of playing savior?” I kept my voice steady despite the anger rising in my chest. “If you came here to pity me, you’re wasting your time. I’m doing fine.” Ivy’s laugh was soft and mocking. “Pity you? Darling, I came to see the girl who managed to tame Jay McFell. What’s so special about you? What makes him willing to sit in this depressing room for hours, canceling his entire life for… this?” She gestured vaguely at the machines and my pale form. “He didn’t leave you, Ivy,” I said firmly. “You two were never really together.” Her smile turned sharp. “That’s what he told you? How sweet. You’re even more naïve than I imagined. He’s always been a master at saying whatever girls want to hear. Especially fragile ones like you.” She stepped closer, her expensive perfume clashing with the sterile hospital air. “We had something real, you know. Late nights, passion, no strings — until suddenly there were strings. He used to crave me. The fire. The excitement. Now he’s stuck here playing nurse to a sick little Bambi who cries at night and needs her hand held just to eat.” My grip on the sheet tightened, the rough fabric biting into my skin. “You don’t know him at all.” “Oh, but I do,” she leaned in, voice lowering. “I know exactly who he is. He’ll come back. When the guilt fades and the novelty of being a hero wears off. When you’re no longer this tragic, broken project he feels obligated to fix. Jay was never built for weakness. He needs someone strong by his side — someone who can match his energy, not drain it.” “You only knew the version of him that didn’t want commitment,” I shot back. “I know the man who chooses to stay.” At that moment, the door burst open with a loud bang. Jay filled the doorway, his eyes snapping from me to Ivy. His expression shifted instantly from concern to cold fury. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled, voice dangerously low as he stormed inside. Ivy turned with a seductive smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just catching up with your little patient, Jay. Friendly visit.” He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her elbow in an iron grip. “Get. Out. Now.” “Jay!” she hissed, struggling against him. “You’re seriously throwing me out like garbage for her? This pale, fragile, dying thing?!" “You don’t get to talk about her,” he growled, dragging her toward the door. “Ever.” “She’s a phase!” Ivy spat, her heels scraping loudly on the floor. “A guilt trip. When the thrill of saving her dies down, you’ll remember how boring this is. How suffocating. You’ll miss the fire we had—” “One more word,” Jay cut her off, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, “and I’ll ruin every door that’s ever opened for you in this city. I mean it, Ivy. Get the hell out and don’t come back.” He shoved her into the hallway and slammed the door shut. The sound reverberated through the room, leaving only the beeping monitor and his heavy breathing. Jay stood still for a moment, shoulders tense. Then he turned and rushed to the bed, dropping to his knees. His large, warm hands gently cupped my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks with trembling care. “Baby… are you okay?” His voice cracked with emotion. “Did she touch you? What did she say? God, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I should’ve handled my past better. I never wanted any of this to touch you.” “Jay,” I whispered, covering his hands with mine. “I’m alright.” He pulled me into his arms, burying his face in the crook of my neck, holding me so tightly I could feel his heart racing against my chest. The scent of his cologne — warm, woody, and familiar — wrapped around me like a shield. “I was terrified,” he breathed against my skin. “Seeing her near you… I thought I’d lose it. I hate that my past keeps hurting you.” I threaded my fingers through his soft hair. “You came just in time.” He pulled back enough to rest his forehead against mine, eyes dark with guilt, fear, and fierce love. Then he captured my lips in a deep, desperate kiss. The kiss was anything but gentle. His lips were warm and demanding, tasting faintly of the coffee he must have drunk earlier. One hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head, while the other pressed firmly against my lower back, pulling me impossibly closer. I could feel the slight roughness of his stubble, the heat of his breath mingling with mine, the way his tongue brushed against my lower lip before deepening the kiss with raw hunger. It wasn’t just passion — it was fear, relief, ownership, and apology all at once. The world narrowed to the sound of our ragged breathing, the faint beep of the monitor, and the overwhelming feeling of being completely claimed. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard. I whispered against his swollen lips: “I’m yours, Jay. Only yours.” “Mine,” he repeated like a solemn vow, pressing his forehead to mine once more, eyes closed. “Forever, Bambi. I swear it. No one from my past will ever come between us again.”