Dying To Let You Go

I got my boyfriend by taking advantage of his lowest moment. Years ago, Lucas Vance shattered his hand just to shield me, giving up his lifelong dream of being a concert pianist. Yet over the years, all his tenderness evaporated, replaced by cold disgust. He called me calculating, pathetic, and desperate. On the day I got my terminal diagnosis, I hid behind a concrete pillar in the parking garage, watching him gently wipe away Vivian’s tears. In that moment, I crumpled the medical report in my hand and suddenly felt at peace. It was fine. I was going to die soon anyway. I could afford to be generous. When Lucas called, I had just walked into the parking garage. The paper declaring the countdown of my life was already a crumpled ball in my bag. "I'm not coming home tonight." His voice was frigid, dripping with ice. Today was my birthday, but I swallowed the words before they could leave my mouth. I cut the engine and noticed Lucas’s car parked not far away. For a foolish second, I hoped he was just messing with me. Then I stepped out and saw Vivian crying in the passenger seat, while Lucas spoke to her with soft, gentle eyes. His usually cold, sharp face was bathed in warmth. I hid behind the pillar for nearly twenty minutes, watching Vivian lean into his chest. Then, they drove off together. A violent coughing fit tore through my throat. I stepped out from behind the pillar and numbly made my way back to our apartment. The last rays of sunset fell across the living room floor. I stared at the diagnosis and suddenly had an overwhelming urge to call Lucas. The image of him wiping his ex’s tears felt like a blade slicing through my soul. I needed to see him. I called him again and again, losing count of the rings before he finally picked up. "It's my birthday today. Can't you come home?" I blurted out before he could speak. Silence met me on the other end. The unspoken answer couldn't have been clearer. "If you don't spend it with me now, you might never get another chance," I said, trying to sound playful and teasing. Lucas let out a dry, mocking chuckle. "Layla, are you really so sure that day will ever come?" I had forgotten. I was dying. I wouldn't live to see another birthday, so no, he would never have to worry about that day coming. It was almost ten when Lucas finally came home. He tossed a small bakery box onto the counter like he was tossing scraps to a stray. "Happy now, drama queen? Let’s see what throwing a tantrum gets you." I caught the faint scent clinging to his coat. It was a sweet, delicate perfume that didn't belong to him. While he showered, I stared blankly at the wall. Was he out so late pouring out five years of pent-up longing and love to Vivian? When Lucas got into bed, he rolled over, turning his back to me out of habit. Body language never lies. We had been together for five years, yet he seemed as uncomfortable with me as ever. In the dark, my mind drifted back to our first time. Even that night, I had only gotten him because I took advantage of his heartbreak. The day Vivian flew abroad, Lucas raced to the airport after her. He sat on an airport bench for hours before finally dragging his feet toward the exit, his slumped shoulders broadcasting his utter despair. Worried sick, I trailed behind him the entire time. When he finally turned around and saw me, all that grief curdled into pure rage. He screamed at me: "Are you happy now? Teaming up with my parents to push me around, and now you’re here to laugh at me, aren't you?" I didn't dare get too close. I looked at him timidly. "I was just worried about you." In the end, he walked all the way home from the airport—hours through the cold night. And I stayed a few paces behind him, walking the entire way in silence. Over the weeks that followed, Lucas drowned himself in alcohol every night. I was always there, cleaning up after him and taking care of him. One night, I had a drink too. With trembling hands, I wrapped my arms around him, my knees shaking so badly I could barely stand. "Do you throw yourself at every guy like this?" he sneered.His words sent a wave of humiliation crashing over me. Shivering, I looked up into his cold, dark eyes. To my shock, he didn't shove me away. Instead, he tilted his head down, bringing the faint smell of whiskey with him, and kissed me. The soft heat against my lips froze me in place. His gaze seemed less icy for a second, catching the light in a bright, shimmering haze—yet his eyes held no reflection of me. After that night, Lucas and I became an item. Even though I knew it was only because Vivian had left. Vivian had set his entire world on fire and burned it to ashes. With his home destroyed, he didn't care who he was with anymore. When I woke up the next morning, my alarm had been ringing for a long time. I didn't even hear it until Lucas nudged me to turn it off. I remembered my doctor telling me that with late-stage lung cancer, my severe coughing and potential brain metastases could cause sudden bouts of temporary deafness and ringing in my ears. Lucas was awake now. He glanced at me with a smirk that felt like a slap. "Sleeping like an angel now just because I didn't throw you a party?" Usually, I would sneak closer after he fell asleep, gently slipping my arms around his waist from behind. By morning, my arm or leg would always be draped over him, only to be shoved off with annoyance. Not today. I gave him a faint smile and said nothing. Lucas turned his head, watching me quietly for a moment. "Did you have another nightmare about me cheating?" I was always so insecure. I frequently dreamed about Lucas being with someone else in every possible way. Whenever I woke from those dreams, I would be unusually quiet and distant for a while. The sudden realization that I was dying—that the days I had left to hold him were running out—made a lump form in my throat. I turned over and buried my face into his chest. "I dreamed about the plains of Montana." "Can we go together? Please?" He knew how much I loved that place. Ever since college, I had talked about it constantly, memorizing every travel route and scenic overlook. Lucas pulled away and said indifferently, "Go by yourself. I don't have time." My eyes fell in disappointment. I managed a weak, "Okay." Maybe he noticed that I didn't try to wrap my arms back around him after he pushed me away. He shifted slightly closer and murmured,"Maybe later. When things settle down." I silently counted the days I had left. It might still be enough. So, I nodded. In truth, I hadn't dreamed of the plains. I had dreamed of the old Lucas. The Lucas from middle school, who took off his jacket and tied it around my waist when I got my first period, running to the convenience store with bright red cheeks to buy me pads. The Lucas from high school, who stayed late after class to wait for me, beating up the bullies who mocked me for coming from a broken home. And the Lucas who held me as I cried until I nearly passed out after Mom died on those open plains, whispering: "Don't be scared, Layla. Besides my parents, nobody in this world matters to me more than you." Those memories of how good he used to be to me played on a loop in my head. He was completely different from the Lucas who met Vivian. After Lucas left for the office, he called me in the afternoon, asking me to drop off some files he’d left on the desk at home. When I arrived at his company, I ran straight into an all-too-familiar face. Vivian. She looked at me, seemingly reading the shock on my face, and smiled with effortless composure. "Hey Layla. I'm Mr. Vance’s executive assistant now." I froze. Secret dinners weren't enough? He had to keep her by his side so he could see her every single day? I confronted Lucas in his office, but he just tossed me a dismissive glance. "What do you have to be so bothered about?" Of course I was bothered. I knew better than anyone how deeply he loved Vivian.For Vivian, he had severed ties with his parents. He had even blamed their breakup entirely on me. Back in college, Vivian had a terrible reputation due to rumors about an affair with her academic advisor. When she started dating Lucas, his parents were vehemently opposed to her. Yet Lucas was convinced I was the one poisoning his parents' minds behind their backs. Back then, he had cornered me, his eyes blazing as he warned me: "Even speaking Vivian's name is a disgrace coming from your mouth." After Vivian left and we got together, I never spoke her name again. Besides, I had heard she was already married. "Why is she working here?" I couldn't help asking. Lucas didn't even look up from his desk. "This company belongs to the Vance family. Just like the house you grew up in." The cruelty between the lines was unmistakable. I swallowed the lump in my throat and changed the subject. "Are we going to visit your parents tonight?" His tone turned instantly cold. "You don't need me there to put on a good show for them," he scoffed. "They've always liked you better anyway." After my mother died, Lucas’s parents took me in. To be exact, I was raised by them. Because I was living under someone else's roof, I was always careful, well-behaved, and desperate to please. My own mother had barely given me any love; she spent her entire life chasing after a man, and in the end, she died out in the desolate plains where he lived. Lucas’s mom and my mom had been childhood best friends. Out of sheer pity and love, she showered me with affection, sometimes even more than she gave Lucas. Lucas despised my calculated politeness. He said I was fake. Snapping out of the memory, I coaxed softly, "Let's go together, please?" "No. I have a meeting. Just leave," Lucas said, flat and unyielding. As I walked out of his office, I passed Vivian heading inside. Figures. In his world, I was always the one being kicked out. I drove over to his parents' house alone. The moment they saw me, their faces lit up with warm smiles. Knowing how much I loved spicy food, his mom had prepared a table full of dishes coated in chili and spices. My doctor had strictly forbidden spicy, irritating foods. Sure enough, after just a couple of bites, a violent coughing fit seized my chest. His mom rushed to pour me a glass of water. "What's wrong, Layla?" "I'm fine, Auntie. I guess it's just been a while since I had spicy food," I wheezed, desperately suppressing the tickle in my throat. "It's because you're always catering to that boy Lucas, isn't it?" his dad sighed. Lucas hated spicy food ever since he was a kid. When I first moved in, he even went on a hunger strike because his mom kept cooking spicy meals. Later, I lied and told everyone I didn't like spicy food either. Before leaving, I told them not to worry and promised to take good care of Lucas. His mom waved her hand. "He's a grown man, he won't starve! You need to look after yourself, sweetheart. Eat whatever you want. You look like you've lost so much weight." Fighting back the tears pricking my eyes, I promised, "I will. I'll eat well from now on." On my drive home, another car rear-ended me. The driver stormed out and slammed his fist against my window, shouting something. "What?" For a terrifying second, I couldn't hear a word. His mouth was opening and closing violently, his face twisted in fury. "I've been honking at you forever! Are you deaf?! If you don't know how to drive, stay off the damn road!" The sound suddenly flooded back. That was why the street had felt so quiet—my ears had shut down again. I hurried out of the car, apologizing profusely. The driver grabbed my arm aggressively. "I asked if you're deaf! How are you gonna pay for this?" A crowd started gathering. In the end, I transferred him some cash on PayPal just to make him leave. My hands were shaking too badly to keep driving. After hesitating for a long time, my thumb finally pressed Lucas's name on my screen. Ring after ring. Finally, a connection. Vivian’s voice came through. "Mr. Vance is busy." Four sharp words, and she hung up. I carefully pulled the car over to the curb and called an Uber home. Once the front door clicked shut, I finally let myself cough. Crimson blood sprayed from my lips, trickling down my chin in a steady stream. I collapsed onto the floor, letting out a shattered, animalistic sob. If Lucas were beside me right now, it wouldn't hurt this much. I wanted so badly to tell him I was dying. I wanted him to hold me and let me say, Lucas, it hurts so much. My trembling fingers typed out a text to him before I could stop myself: "If I disappeared, would you miss me?" To my surprise, the "busy" CEO replied within seconds: "If you want to leave, do it already."