“Will chemo save me?” I asked. It would just
prolong the pain, make my death even more
agonizing. I wanted to die with dignity, so Liam
would recognize me. I didn’t want to scare him.
Ethan’s silence was my answer. He was a
doctor, but even doctors couldn’t guarantee a
cure for cancer.
I held the warm mug in my hands, a sense of
acceptance settling over me. “Ethan, since
you’re here… can you do me a favor?”
He looked away, but I saw the glimmer of tears
in his eyes.
“If it’s about making funeral arrangements, I’m
not doing it.”
“No, it’s not that.” I couldn’t ask him to deal
with something so morbid. “Can… can you take
a picture of me? To… to be burned with me
when I die?”
<
2:14
The restaurant overlooked the ocean. I stood
there, freshly dressed, but the wind was cold, my body weak. Ethan took pictures of me, posing against the backdrop of the endless blue. I wanted to show Liam. I wanted to tell him I’d fulfilled his wish.
I leaned against the railing, forcing a genuine smile for the first time in days. Ethan snapped away, trying to capture me at my best, but a dying woman couldn’t look beautiful.
As I struggled to hold the smile, a figure appeared behind Ethan and snatched the
phone. He scrolled through the photos, each
one a testament to my brief escape, Ethan the
silent observer.
The peaceful moment shattered. He deleted
every single photo.
In the fading light, I saw David’s knuckles
whiten around the phone, his jaw tight. “Chloe,
88
2:14
<
88
winter around the prone, mis jaw light. Chive,
I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’ve
been with him this whole time?” His voice was
laced with accusation.
Ethan stepped forward, probably to explain
about my illness.
I held him back, gripping his arm for support. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding,” I said, glancing past David to Sarah, who stood
just inside the restaurant.
“Sarah?”
The four of us sat at a table, a scene straight
out of high school. Sarah, as always, dominated
the conversation. She even offered me food,
seemingly oblivious to the absurdity of the
situation.
“Chloe, you’ve lost so much weight!” It wasn’t
just the weight loss; my skin was pale, my lips
bloodless.
2:14
88
Her comment drew David’s attention. His eyes
held a flicker of… concern? No, that couldn’t
be right. Why would he care?
“Is this how Dr. Miller takes care of you?” he asked, his voice tight.
What did Ethan have to do with anything? He was an old classmate, a doctor. He’d taken time off work to find me, urged me to get treatment, and spent two days with me. I was
grateful. How dare David criticize him?
“How he takes care of me is our business,” I
said, surprising even myself with my newfound defiance. In high school, I’d been his shadow,
his tagalong. During our marriage, I’d endured
his neglect, waited up for him, made him soup,
cared for him when he was sick. But that Chloe
was gone, buried with Liam.
Sarah giggled nervously, placing her hand on
2:14
88
David’s. “See, David? I told you she’d be fine. You worried for nothing.”
David pulled his hand away. I noticed then that Sarah’s ring was gone. The ring on David’s finger… it was our wedding band. What was he doing? Throughout our marriage, I’d been the only one wearing it, a symbol of a one–sided love affair. Now that I’d walked away, he was
wearing it? The irony was almost unbearable.
“Chloe, I remember you used to love spicy
food.” Sarah placed a piece of grilled lamb on
my plate. The pungent aroma burned my
nostrils.
Ethan pushed the plate aside. “That was then.
What she liked then might not be what she likes
now.” Spicy food was a death sentence for
someone with stomach cancer.
Sarah laughed, her voice dripping with fake
sweetness. “Dr. Miller, always so protective of
<
2:14
Chloe. I knew you two were meant to be.
Congratulations, by the way.”
“Enough,” David snapped. “Shut up.”
88
Embarrassment and confusion flickered across
Sarah’s face. Why was he talking to her like
that? He adored Sarah, pampered her, never
spoke a harsh word to her. Now, he was
snapping at her over a harmless joke? Back in
school, he’d joined in on her teasing.
When Ethan and I ate lunch together, Sarah
would show up, making suggestive comments,
and David would stand beside her, his eyes cold
as he looked at us. “So much chatter over
lunch,” he’d say. “You two really hit it off.” He’d
said those words himself. Why was he so angry
now?
He pushed the lamb towards me again. He
always forced me to eat things I didn’t like. “I
don’t believe one bite will kill you.”
<
2:14
88
“Will you be satisfied if I eat it?” I picked up my chopsticks, tears blurring my vision. I’d loved him, lived with him out of guilt. Now that I had nothing left, he wanted to push me over the
edge.
Ignoring his question, I ate the lamb under his stunned gaze, forcing it down. Ethan snatched the chopsticks from my hand.
“Chloe!”
Was he always this dramatic? It wasn’t poison. I
wouldn’t die. I didn’t want to die. I just wanted
to be free of David.
It was strange. During our marriage, I’d yearned
for his presence, but he’d never been home.
Now that we were divorced, he was everywhere.
But I didn’t need him anymore.
A sharp pain ripped through me. I covered my mouth, my face draining of color. Ethan jumped
2:14
88
to his feet. “How could you…? She has a…” He
stopped abruptly, his eyes wide as he looked at
- me. I clutched his hand, pleading with him
silently.
David looked confused. “A what?”
“Stomach problem,” I choked out. I doubled
over, coughing, my hand flying to my mouth.
Something warm and wet coated my palm.
Blood.
It was just a stomach problem. Why was I
coughing up blood?
After our encounter at the beach, David’s
appearances became more frequent, my health
deteriorating rapidly. He tried to drag me to the
hospital.
I pulled away. “Just leave me alone,” I begged.
My defiance seemed to unsettle him. “Chloe,
2:14
88
you never told me you had stomach problems.”
My voice was a dry rasp. “It’s just a stomach
problem. You should be worried about Sarah.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll actually marry her?” He
gripped my wrist, his touch burning through my
skin.
“Without Liam, what good is being Mrs. Bailey?
I just want you to have a happy life with Sarah,
lots of children.” He might have many children,
but he’d never have another Liam. Liam, his
firstborn, a constant reminder of his failings as
a father.
David’s grief over Liam’s death had been
fleeting. Now, he stood before me, his voice
thick with emotion. “Chloe, in your heart, who’s
more important? Liam, or me?”
“Liam,” I said, my voice barely a whisper,
swallowing the pain and bitterness. “Without
<
2:14
88
I pulled away, rushing upstairs to lock myself in.
I swallowed handfuls of painkillers, but before
they could take effect, the pain intensified,
spreading through my body like wildfire.
I stumbled into the bathroom, retching, my eyes
catching sight of the crimson stain in the toilet
bowl.
Glancing out the window, I saw David standing
below, a solitary figure in the darkness.
Exhausted, I collapsed on the bed. My phone
rang. David. He sounded drunk, his words
slurred.
I made out one sentence: “…Chloe… I miss
Liam…”
I hung up, my trembling fingers blocking his
number.
I couldn’t forgive myself. This illness was my
<
Number three: Convince Daddy to let me get a
kitten. He’d said all his classmates had one,
and he wanted one too.
David had scoffed. “Isn’t one child enough?”
He hadn’t wanted another tie to me. I
understood. But he shouldn’t have said that to
Liam. We’d argued. He’d called me a hysterical
shrew. I’d told him he didn’t deserve to be a
father.
He’d laughed coldly. “You think I wanted to be
his father?”
Rage had surged through me. I’d slapped him.
He’d shoved me, sending me sprawling into a
pile of broken glass. My hand had bled
profusely. He’d walked away without a word.
I’d thought Liam was at school. He’d been
hiding, watching. He’d cleaned my wounds, his
small face crumpled with tears. “Mommy, I
<
