Chapter 22
“I want to see Alexander!”
Shirley gripped the nurse’s sleeve, voice hoarse. “Tell him I need to say something. Just one word!”
The nurse pulled her hand back, tone flat. “Mr. Williams said you need rest. He won’t see anyone.”
“Anyone?”
Shirley laughed, tears splattering the blanket. “Even someone who nearly died right before him counts as anyone?”
She yanked out her IV, pounding the bedframe with her uninjured hand while screaming Alexander’s name until her voice gave out.
An orderly rushed in, restraining her and reinserting the needle. Cold fluid flowed into her veins, sapping her strength to struggle.
Staring at the ceiling, Shirley retrieved a fruit knife hidden beneath the mattress. The blade thin, its edge stung slightly against her skin.
Watching blood beads surface, she curled her lips into a ghostly smile.
She dialed the memorized number. The phone rang endlessly, nearly reaching voicemail when it unexpectedly connected.
“Alexander,” her voice/floated weakly, “I’m bleeding… so much blood… Won’t you come see?
Maybe… this is your last chance.”
Silence hung for seconds before his icy reply: “Shirley, nobody’s
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Chapter 22
stopping you from dying. But I’d rather you live. Live in agony, repaying your debts.”
“Beep… beep… beep…”
The dial tone hammered against her heart.
Shirley’s knife–holding hand dropped. Blood dripped from her fingertips, blooming dark crimson on the floor.
She stared at the stain, suddenly laughing until tears flooded her eyes.
Outside, rain had stopped. Nguyennlight pierced the window, falling across her empty lower body like a cruel–joke.
Alexander pocketed his phone, pulling out an old key instead.
Inserting it into the lock, his hand hesitated.
Pushing the door open, no gardenia scent greeted him–only dust.
He slowly changed shoes, scanning the living room.
Throw pillows lay haphazardly stacked on the sofa as if she’d just leaned there yesterday. An unfinished gray knitting project sat on the coffee table–the scarf she’d always promised to make him.
Everything remained frozen since his departure, yet nothing felt the
same.
Alexander walked to the balcony. Spider plants had withered, only a corner cactus stubbornly survived.
He recalled her saying: “See how it’s like you? Stiff… yet secretly growing thorns to protect itself.”
He used to laugh at her nonsense. Now, pricking his finger on a spine,
Chapter 22
the sharp pain couldn’t touch the ache in his chest.
Slumping against the railing, he slid down until his forehead met cold tiles.
Memories surfaced: Her first cooking attempt—burnt eggs–while she beamed: “Doesn’t that burnt smell mean home?”
Winter snow days: Her pulling him into clumsy living room dances. Slipping, tumbling onto the carpet laughing, the air sweet with warmth.
A long–lost smile finally touched Alexander’s lips.
In a mere instant, everything dissolved like vanishing foam.
He slowly rose and walked to the bedroom.
In the photo frame on the nightstand, Rita smiled with crescent eyes. He’d taken that picture last year on her birthday, as she held up a lopsided cake, saying: “Alexander, we’ll be together forever.”
“Forever…”
He murmured the word, then tasted thick metallic bitterness in his throat. Alexander abruptly turned aside, coughing blood onto the beige tiles.
Pulling a handkerchief, he wiped his mouth with the calm of brushing off dust.
The late–stage gastric cancer diagnosis still sat in his pocket. Three months at most, the doctor said. Back then, he’d thought this might bring him closest to Rita in this lifetime.
Kneeling slowly, he buried his face in her pillow. The faint scent of
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Chapter 22
her shampoo lingered there.
“Rita…” Tears choked his voice as they fell on the pillowcase, blooming dark stains. “Wait for me…”
“Over there… could you… give me another chance?”
Wind rushed through the window, billowing the curtains but unable to stir the heavy silence and hopelessness filling the room.
He knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness. Yet nothing remained for him
now.
In these fleeting days, his only purpose was waiting–waiting to meet his girl while bearing the weight of his sins.
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