Chapter 5

I hastily gobbled down a few bites of food and left the restaurant. They were far away, and hadn’t seen me.

I decided to go visit Ryan in the inpatient ward.

He wasn’t actually a better catch. He was just like me, a cancer patient.

A year ago, he was also in the mid-to-late stages. Now, I had three months left, and he only had one.

He was bedridden, confined to his hospital bed. Thankfully, his family had some money and could afford it.

When I arrived, his mother was sitting alone in the hallway outside his room, silently wiping away tears.

He was her only son, from a loving family. The news of his cancer had devastated them, leaving them in constant tears. A mother burying her son—her heart must be breaking.

I went and sat quietly beside her, saying nothing. Comfort, at this point, was futile.

When she composed herself a little, she took my hand and said, “Thank you, child.”

I shook my head, softly saying there was no need to thank me.

Entering Ryan’s room, I saw he was even more emaciated than last week, a skeletal figure hooked up to countless tubes, a stark contrast to the man I’d met a year ago.

Some might think, *what's the point of living like this? Better to just die and be done with it.*

I used to think that too. But after getting sick, I didn't anymore. We all have people we care about in this world, and even when we know the end is coming, we still feel fear. We dread the despair in our loved ones' eyes. We cling to hope, wondering if the universe might open its eyes and grant us a miracle.

I chatted with him for a while, then said goodbye in the evening and walked towards my apartment.

Passing by the inpatient rooms, one after another, I saw them filled with patients suffering from various illnesses. They were all so quiet, so still, as if someone might die any moment. Their families sat on the hallway chairs, their expressions sorrowful yet numb.

I had witnessed this scene hundreds, thousands of times. I no longer broke down in tears like I used to. I could even crack a dark joke about it and manage a laugh.

But when I saw Liam standing outside my apartment, I stopped laughing.

His expression was unreadable, a strange mix of anger and torment.

As I approached, I realized he looked as distant as he had earlier.

I took out my keys to open the door and asked, “Can I help you?”

The lock clicked, and at the same moment, his hand covered mine, stopping me from opening the door.

His touch was cool, unlike before. His hands used to be faintly warm, like a small furnace in winter. I always loved to hold them to warm my own.

“Willow, do you truly never regret it?” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and raspy, like an old bellows.

Hearing that familiar name from his lips, I almost broke down in tears.

I clenched my jaw, calming myself for a few seconds, before finding my voice again.

“What is there to regret?”

“I know everything.”

My heart tightened. *What did he know? Did he know I didn’t have much time left?*

Liam said, “Ryan has cancer. He’s dying soon.”

I let out a breath. *Good, good, he still doesn’t know.*

I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “Yes, he’s dying. What does that have to do with you?”

Liam avoided my gaze, then asked with difficulty, “You wanted to find someone better. Am I not a 'better catch' than Ryan?”

I froze, unsure what he meant.

He looked directly at me again. “You think that ‘accident’ that day was just a coincidence?”

“I saw you that day. I immediately told my driver to ‘accidentally’ hit you. Running into you at the hospital later was pure chance, but the next day, I deliberately waited there. I was gambling on whether you’d show up again. I swore to myself that if you did, I would follow you, not let you disappear again. I wanted to seize the chance the universe gave me. I watched you visit Ryan. He’s dying, isn’t he? So, can we… can we start over?”

I stared at his lips, moving up and down, my mind a complete blur.

Oh, how I wanted to throw myself into his arms, to hold him tight, to unload all the suffering I’d endured, to tell him about the fear of dying and the terror of lonely nights.

But I couldn’t.

It had been a year. I’d already committed to this lie. I couldn’t let all my efforts be for nothing now, not in my last three months.

“We can’t go back, Liam. What’s done is done. Let go.”

At that moment, I was surprised by how calm my voice was, not betraying a hint of my turmoil.

Liam’s eyes turned red. He wouldn’t give up. “I don’t believe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t believe it. You must have a reason you can’t tell me. Your interaction with Ryan today was clearly not like a couple. You’re lying to me, Willow. Tell me the truth, tell me!”

I pleaded with him to stop. “Liam, the past is the past, no matter the reason.”

“Is there… no chance at all?”

I shook my head firmly, my voice resolute. “No.”

Silent tears streamed down Liam’s face. He didn’t wipe them away, letting them mix with his lips. Oh, how I longed to kiss him.

To keep myself from losing control, I quickly slipped inside and slammed the door shut.

Behind the closed door, I collapsed, sobbing silently, my insides tearing apart. It felt like my organs had been ripped out, then shoved back in, raw and bleeding.

The next day, I went to the hospital for chemotherapy, as usual, with dark circles under my eyes. This time, the doctor just sighed and said nothing.

He probably figured I didn’t have much time left, so there was no point in saying anything more.