The day I was told I was dying, Ethan was planning to propose to Audrey. "Summer, your heart failure is end-stage. At most... you have only one month left," the doctor said. I calmly tucked the diagnosis report into my pocket and returned to Ethan's apartment. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Audrey's gasps drifted out from inside. "Ethan, be gentle. It hurts." Then came a man's low, husky chuckle, filled with satisfaction. "What, afraid Summer will hear? You're the woman I love most. What is there to be afraid of? I only see Summer as a maid." As the "maid," I stood outside the door, enduring the pain in my heart, still clutching the bouquet of roses he'd had someone deliver that morning, asking me to pass them to Audrey. 999 roses. The card read: "Audrey, marry me." I lowered my head, looked at the flowers, then at the diagnosis in my pocket, reminding me of my expiration date. A month later, the day he married her. That would also be the day I had chosen for my own passing.
Summer POV New York City's main library, top-floor VIP reading room. I stood before the shelves, carefully wiping down precious, out-of-print books and re-shelving them. I was a librarian. The pay was minimal, the work tedious, but I'd been here for three whole years. Because this reading room, on this very floor, was once built specifically for me by Ethan. "This floor has the best lighting. Let's clear out all the old books." Audrey spoke softly, her eyes slightly reddened as she looked at the man beside her. "Ethan, I want to turn this into a memorial gallery for Zach, to display his favorite models and paintings from when he was alive, okay?" Ethan stood with one hand in his pocket, his gaze darkening slightly when Audrey mentioned Zach. He subconsciously glanced at me, dressed in my thin work uniform not far away, a barely perceptible frown on his brow. Then, he looked down at Audrey, his tone flat. "Alright, whatever you wish." My wiping motion paused. I turned around. At the entrance to the reading room, Audrey, in a designer red dress, was pointing at the surrounding bookshelves and issuing commands. Beside her stood Ethan, tall and striking in a tailored black suit. His tone with Audrey was the familiar indulgence I once knew so well. My heart sharply clenched, a searing pain spreading through my chest. I instinctively tightened my grip on the cleaning cloth. Once upon a time, Ethan had indulged me in the same way. Back then, we were still in college. I'd casually mentioned I liked reading, and Ethan had leased an entire floor in the best part of New York, scouring the world for out-of-print books to build this library, just for me. He would drive all night, back and forth, just to buy me a limited-edition coffee from Boston. He would carefully carry me into his arms and wrap me in his coat when I fell asleep reading. He once placed all his bank cards, property deeds, and this very library key into my hand, smiling. "Summer, I've given my life to you. You can only ever be my Mrs. Blackwood." But now, he was destroying this place, once filled with our memories, to give it to another woman. "Ethan." I walked up to him, my voice a little hoarse. "Many of these books are out of print; moving them might damage them. Could you...?" "No." Ethan cut me off coldly, his eyes devoid of warmth, even holding undisguised disgust. "Audrey is holding an exhibition. Nothing from this place is allowed to remain." I looked at his icy eyes, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with wet cotton, aching with the blockage. Three years ago, a yacht explosion completely destroyed everything between us. Ethan's most beloved younger brother, Zach, died in that accident, and I was the sole survivor. Ethan was convinced that, to save myself before the explosion, I had locked the cabin door, trapping Zach in the fire. From that day on, the Ethan who had doted on me ceased to exist. What lived on was a devil who hated me to the bone. He didn't send me to prison. Instead, he kept me by his side in the most cruel way. He not only withdrew investment from my father's company, leading to its bankruptcy, but also forced me to stay at this library, working as a bottom-tier administrator, earning a meager salary, watching him parade around with different women every day. And Audrey was the girl Zach loved most when he was alive. Ethan poured all his guilt over his brother's death into compensating Audrey. "Summer, what are you still standing here for?" Audrey walked up, looking down at me, a malicious smile playing on her lips. "Didn't you hear Ethan? Hurry up and clear out all your trash. My team is coming in tomorrow to set up the exhibition." I took a deep breath, suppressing the increasingly fierce dull ache in my chest, and said softly. "Okay, I'll finish moving everything today." I didn't argue. This dead-eyed submission seemed to inexplicably ignite a nameless rage within Ethan. He walked over, his gaze falling on my reddened hands from moving books, his throat bobbing. But when he spoke, his voice was laced with ice. "What? Feeling wronged? Summer, you owe Zach your life. Is clearing a room too much to ask?" I looked up, my eyes as vacant as empty wells. "I know. Ethan, I'll move them." I didn't, as I had three years ago, cling to his sleeve with red-rimmed eyes, trying to explain. Ethan looked at my expressionless face, and a fresh wave of annoyance rose in him. He sharply averted his gaze, as if looking at me any longer would sting him with that dead silence. "Summer, who are you putting on this lifeless act for?" Ethan gritted his teeth, his voice low, only audible to the two of us. "Do you think playing the victim will make me soften? You owe Zach a life; you'll never be able to repay it!" My chin was squeezed painfully, but I didn't even flinch. I just calmly looked at Ethan, my eyes as vacant as empty wells. "I know," I said softly. "I'll move them. Ethan, please let go." Ethan looked at my unmoving face, and his frustration grew. He abruptly threw my hand away, as if discarding something dirty and worthless. "If there's still a single book here by sundown, I'll have them all burned." With that, he didn't even glance at me again. He turned, took Audrey's hand, and strode out of the reading room. The footsteps gradually faded until they disappeared completely. I finally couldn't hold myself up, my legs buckling. I collapsed onto the cold floor. I clutched my chest, gasping for air, cold sweat instantly soaking my shirt. My heart beat extremely slowly, each throb accompanied by a tearing pain, as if a rusty knife was twisting inside my ventricle. My trembling hand fumbled for a white pill bottle in my pocket, shook out two pills, and swallowed them dry, without water. A bitter taste spread in my mouth, but it was nowhere near a fraction of the bitterness in my heart. I leaned against the bookshelf, looking at this reading room that held all my youth and love, tears silently streaming down my face. Ethan, you don't need to chase me away. I will soon disappear completely from your world.
Summer POV New York First Hospital, Cardiology Clinic. I sat in the chair, my face pale, almost translucent. The doctor looked at the test reports in his hand, his brows furrowed, his voice heavy. "Summer, your heart failure is end-stage. Have you been experiencing frequent chest pain, shortness of breath, or even fainting spells recently?" I nodded calmly. "Yes." "You're not taking your health seriously enough!" The doctor sounded pained and exasperated. "Given your condition, if you don't immediately get admitted for conservative treatment and get on the waiting list for a heart transplant, you have at most... at most one month left." One month. My heart skipped a beat, but quickly returned to that dead-eyed calm. So, my life had only thirty days left. "What if I refuse treatment?" I asked softly. The doctor was stunned, his face full of disbelief. "You're only twenty-five! Giving up treatment is just waiting to die! While heart donors are hard to come by, there's still hope if you're hospitalized and maintained with medication!" "I don't have the money for hospitalization, and I don't have the time to wait." I stood up and bowed slightly to the doctor. "Thank you, Doctor. Please prescribe me some strong painkillers." I refused the doctor's earnest pleas, took a new bottle of painkillers, and walked out of the hospital. The sun outside was blinding, but I felt cold all over. I wasn't afraid to die. I should have died three years ago in that explosion. I just felt a pang of regret that, in this last month, I wouldn't get to see Ethan let go of his hatred. It was afternoon when I returned to the library. The top-floor reading room was a mess. Several workers were roughly dismantling bookshelves, hundreds of precious books were carelessly tossed on the floor, like abandoned piles of trash. Audrey stood by, directing the workers. "Hurry up! Throw these junk books directly into the trash truck downstairs, don't dirty my space!" My pupils constricted. I rushed forward. "Stop! You can't throw them away!" I threw myself into the piles of books, desperately shielding them with my body. Many of these were rare, out-of-print editions that Ethan had personally found for me, traveling to a dozen European countries. "Oh, Summer's back?" Audrey crossed her arms, a cold smile on her face as she walked over. "These garbage books are taking up my space. Am I supposed to keep them for Christmas?" "I told you I'd move them myself!" My eyes were red as I clutched the books in my arms. "You're too slow. I can't wait." Audrey looked at me contemptuously. As she spoke, several workers roughly swept books into cardboard boxes. An foreign poetry collection happened to fall to the ground, its pages fanning out, and a hand-drawn ginkgo leaf bookmark fluttered out. Ethan had stayed up two nights in college to draw that for me. The worker's cart wheel was about to roll over it. "Don't touch it!" I lunged forward, protecting the bookmark. My elbow hit the concrete floor hard, scraping a patch of skin raw. Standing at the door, Ethan's pupils constricted, and he instinctively took half a step forward, his fingers at his side clenching. But the next second, he stopped himself. He watched me fiercely clutch the dirty bookmark to my chest, his heart stinging as if something had stung him. "A piece of scrap paper worth such an act?" Ethan looked down at me, his voice cold. "Throw it away. We don't need any of your trash here." "No!" I cried out, reaching to snatch it. Just then, a long, strong hand suddenly reached out, grabbed my wrist, and roughly threw me aside. I fell heavily to the ground, my elbow hitting a splintered piece of wood, instantly drawing blood. I looked up and saw Ethan's face, cold as frost. "Ethan..." My voice trembled. I pointed at the trampled poetry collection on the floor. "You gave that to me... You said there was only one copy in the world..." "Did I? I forgot." Ethan looked down at me, his eyes full of mockery and coldness. He raised his foot and, in front of me, stepped on the poetry collection again, pressing down hard. The exquisite cover instantly tore, pages scattering across the floor. "Summer, are you still living in the past?" Ethan's voice was like an ice-cold knife. "Do you think protecting these old books proves anything? I gave you those things, and now they disgust me. Just like you, you utterly disgust me." I stared blankly at the shattered poetry collection on the ground, large tears splashing onto the floor. Before, when I got tired from reading, Ethan would hold me on his lap, open this poetry collection, and read to me, line by line, in his deep, pleasant voice. He'd said, "Summer, my world was once barren. You brought me spring." But now, he had personally crushed that spring. "Clear out all this junk." Ethan coldly ordered the workers, then turned to me. "If you dare to interfere again, or upset Audrey, I promise you, your father's days in the nursing home will be ten times worse than they are now." He was using my father's life to threaten me. I closed my eyes, swallowing the metallic sweetness that rose in my throat. "Okay." I released my grip, slowly got up from the floor, not looking at the books on the ground, nor at Ethan. I turned, dragging my heavy steps, and walked out of the reading room, one step at a time.
Summer POV The cleanup of the top-floor reading room continued for three whole days. I no longer resisted, working like a machine that had lost its sense of pain, silently packing and boxing the books that held the memories of my youth. The heavy cardboard boxes bit into my thin fingers, leaving bright red marks, but I seemed completely unaware. My heart's burden was nearing its limit. These past few days, my painkiller frequency had gone from twice a day to four times a day. In the afternoon, Audrey brought several designers to the site to confirm the dimensions for the gallery. She wore a refined skirt suit, her fingertips tracing outlines in the air, occasionally turning to flash a sweet smile at Ethan beside her. "Ethan, Zach used to love ocean blue. Should we paint this wall blue?" Ethan had one hand in his trouser pocket. I could feel his gaze involuntarily pass over Audrey's shoulder and fall on my back. I was too thin. The oversized gray work uniform hung loosely on me, as if a gust of wind could snap my spine. What would he think? I, who used to playfully ask him to open a bottle cap, now lifted dozens of pounds of cardboard boxes without a single groan. Just then, while sifting through an old cardboard box, Audrey accidentally grazed her finger on a sharp edge. Audrey let out a small cry, a tiny bead of blood oozing from her fair fingertip. Ethan's thoughts seemed to snap back instantly. He strode over, his brow immediately furrowing. He grabbed Audrey's hand. "How could you be so careless? Go sit over there; don't touch these dirty things." His voice was full of concern. He immediately told his assistant to get a first-aid kit. Meanwhile, in a corner not far away, I, who had been moving heavy objects for two hours straight, finally reached my physical limit. A fierce, wrenching pain exploded without warning from my heart, like a barbed knife violently twisting in my chest. My vision suddenly went black, and I collapsed weakly onto the dusty floor. I clutched my chest, breathing in short, shallow gasps, cold sweat instantly drenching my shirt. My face was ashen, like a thin sheet of paper, showing a deathly pallor. The dull thud of something heavy falling made Ethan turn his head. Seeing me curled up on the ground, Ethan's pupils suddenly constricted, his fingers at his side unconsciously clenching. "Summer, Audrey just scratched her hand, and you're here faking a faint?" Ethan sneered, his voice laced with ice shards, trying to use the most vicious words to mask a flicker of panic in his heart that even he found absurd. "Haven't you worn out your pity play in these three years?" I was in so much pain that every breath felt like swallowing shattered glass; I had no strength to retort. I bit down hard on my pale lips, my trembling hand reaching into my pocket, trying to find that life-saving pill bottle. Ethan looked at my miserable state and coldly tossed out a sentence. "Fake death, and I'll dock this month's salary." With that, he pulled Audrey and walked out of the reading room without looking back. The heavy glass door closed behind them, cutting off all footsteps. In the vast space, only I remained. I finally pulled out the pill bottle from my pocket, shook out two pills, and swallowed them dry. A bitter taste spread in my mouth. I leaned against the cold wall, looking at the closed door, tears mixing with cold sweat, silently splashing onto my dusty hand. I wasn't faking. Ethan, I was truly dying.
Summer POV Two days later, Boston, The Meridian Club. Today was Zach's death anniversary. Every year on this day, Ethan would book this place, gathering all his friends from our old social circle to commemorate his deceased brother. And I, as the supposed culprit who caused Zach's death, was forced to come along every year by Ethan, like a live target for people to vent their resentment on, standing in the darkest corner of the private room. Pushing open the heavy door of the private room, the noise inside quieted for a moment at my appearance, then erupted into even more unrestrained mockery. "Well, if it isn't Summer? What happened to you, you look like a ghost?" A wealthy scion who once pursued me spoke with a snide tone. "What Summer? Her family went bankrupt ages ago. Now she's just a dog at Ethan's heels." Another person chimed in. "Killed Zach and still has the nerve to live in this world. She's got some thick skin." Those who used to treat me courteously now attacked me with the most malicious words, all to curry favor with Ethan, who sat at the head of the table. I wore a faded old coat, my face ashen, ignoring their taunts. My gaze cut through the crowd, landing on Ethan. Ethan lounged on the sofa, twirling a silver lighter in his hand. Audrey nestled beside him, their bodies close. Seeing me enter, Ethan didn't even look up. The lighter made a crisp click. A flame flickered, then he pressed it out without a change in expression. He didn't stop the taunts. I knew he was waiting. Waiting for me to walk up to him with red-rimmed eyes, as I did three years ago, clutching his sleeve, pleading tearfully for him to take me away. But I had no strength left. I just stood there quietly, my eyes as vacant as if watching a drama unrelated to myself. "Summer, Zach is so cold underground. It's only right that you drink this toast to apologize to him, isn't it?" The wealthy scion grew bolder when Ethan didn't stop him. He poured a full glass of strong whiskey and slammed it onto the edge of the table. A chorus of jeers immediately filled the room. I looked at the amber liquid, my stomach revolted. In my current physical state, even walking a few steps could trigger heart failure, let alone drinking such potent whiskey. Drinking it would be no different than accelerating my death. However, if I didn't drink, this humiliation wouldn't end. I was too tired; I was almost out of strength just to stand. Under the gaze of everyone watching for a show, I slowly walked forward. I didn't look at Ethan, nor at the drink. I just calmly asked the wealthy scion, "If I drink this, I can leave, right?" At these words, I saw Ethan's hand, which had been toying with the lighter, suddenly freeze, his brows tightly furrowing. "Of course! As long as you finish it, we'll let you off today!" I didn't hesitate. I reached out a pale, slender hand, picked up the full glass of whiskey, tilted my head back, and drained it in one gulp. The fiery liquid flowed down my throat into my stomach, instantly burning like a raging inferno within my organs. Immediately after, a fierce, tearing spasm gripped my heart. I clutched my chest, my frail body swaying uncontrollably. Large beads of cold sweat rolled down my forehead, and my already pale face was now utterly bloodless, showing a deathly pallor. "One glass isn't enough? How much Zach suffered in that fire, what's a little drink compared to that!" Seeing my state, the man didn't stop. Instead, he picked up the bottle, preparing to pour more into the glass. Bang! A loud crash exploded in the private room. Ethan violently grabbed the glass ashtray from the table and slammed it hard at the wealthy scion's feet. Glass shards flew everywhere, and the room instantly fell into a deathly silence. Everyone was startled into silence by his sudden rage. Ethan's face was terrifyingly dark, his eyes swirling with chilling malice. He strode over, grabbed my icy wrist, his grip so powerful it almost crushed my bones. "Who told you to drink?!" Ethan gritted his teeth, his voice a hoarse roar forced from his chest. "Do you think drinking a glass of wine can atone for your sins? What right do you have?" He cursed me harshly, but the hand clutching me trembled slightly. The moment I felt my legs weaken from the pain, almost falling, he instinctively reached out an arm, holding my back firmly. I leaned against his rigid arm, breathing with difficulty. I looked up at Ethan's face, slightly distorted by anger, and actually managed a faint smile. "Ethan... I drank the whiskey... can I go now?" My lifeless compliance seemed to fill Ethan with dread. "Get out! Get the hell out!" Ethan suddenly released my hand, as if to hide his loss of composure. I leaned on the wall, walking out of the private room with slow, staggering steps. I heard Audrey walk up, trying to link arms with him, but Ethan impatiently avoided her touch. He turned around, looked at the bewildered faces in the room, and spoke coldly, his voice loud enough for me to hear even in the hallway. "The eighteenth of next month, Audrey and I are getting engaged. I hope everyone will come and witness it." In the hallway, my frail figure paused for only a fraction of a second. Then, I said in an extremely soft, calm voice, "I wish you both eternal happiness." No crying, no breakdown. Only the calm of still water.
Ethan POV Late night, a luxury apartment in New York. This apartment was one of my properties. Three years ago, Summer was forcibly brought here and assigned the darkest, narrowest guest room. For these three years, she lived like a ghostly shadow, barely surviving. When I pushed open the door, reeking of alcohol, only a dim floor lamp was on in the living room. I'd drunk too much at the anniversary gathering. My stomach felt like it was on fire, the pain making me break out in a cold sweat. For the past three years, no matter how cold I was outside, when my stomach pain flared up, I would instinctively return here. Because I knew that whenever I came back, no matter how late, Summer would silently go into the kitchen and cook me a steaming bowl of spaghetti, topped with a fried egg with golden-brown edges. That was the only warmth from the past I could extract in this toxic relationship. Faint sounds came from the kitchen. Before long, Summer came out carrying a steaming bowl of spaghetti and placed it on the dining table. She didn't say anything. She set the bowl down and was about to turn back to the guest room. "Stop." I sat in the dining chair, rubbing my throbbing stomach, my voice hoarse. Summer paused, her back to me. I picked up a fork and took a bite of the pasta. The warm sauce flowed down my esophagus into my stomach, instantly soothing the spasms. My tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly, and the volatile emotions in my heart miraculously calmed down. I looked up, my gaze casually sweeping across the living room, but then I suddenly froze. In the corner of the living room, the trash can was overflowing. On top, there was a sketchbook I had given her in college, along with several of the library design blueprints I had personally drawn, now torn into shreds. My hand, holding the fork, stiffened. The warmth in my stomach was instantly replaced by a huge wave of panic. "What are you doing?" I suddenly stood up. The abrupt movement knocked over the bowl of spaghetti on the table. Hot broth splashed onto Summer's hand, instantly reddening a patch of skin. But she didn't even flinch. She just turned around, pulled out a few tissues, and calmly wiped up the mess on the table. "Cleaning up trash." Summer's voice was flat, without any fluctuation. "Ethan is getting engaged next month. I'm clearing out my things here, so Audrey won't be annoyed when she moves in later." Her calm tone struck me as incredibly grating; I even felt an unprecedented fear. "Who allowed you to clean?!" I strode over, grabbing her shoulder with surprising force. I stared fixedly into her vacant eyes, my voice a hollow, hoarse whisper. "Summer, what kind of reverse psychology are you playing now? What, you think if you act like you're leaving, I'll soften?" Summer was forced to look up at me. Once, these eyes were filled with love for me; later, they showed pain and despair. But now, there was nothing in them. Only a dead silence, a lifeless pallor. "You're not allowed to go anywhere until I tell you to!" I gritted my teeth and roared, as if to embolden myself. "You haven't paid your debt for Zach's life yet. You're destined to rot here forever!" That smile was exceptionally pale, yet it held a startling sense of relief. That smile was incredibly pale, yet it held a startling sense of relief. "Okay," she said softly. "Rot here."
Summer POV In the following days, Ethan didn't return to the apartment. In the empty room, the only sound was the growing weakness of my own heartbeat. I used the last of my remaining strength to visit New York First Hospital. In the Chief of Cardiology's office, the smell of disinfectant was pungent and cold. I calmly took the pen and, with steady strokes, signed my name on the "Do Not Resuscitate Order" and "Organ Donation Agreement." My fingertips were faintly bluish-white from the pressure, but my handwriting was remarkably steady. "Summer, are you really not going to reconsider?" The chief took off his glasses, looking at my thin figure, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "While hope is slim, if you're willing to be hospitalized and maintained with medication, there's still a chance to wait for a donor. You're so young." "No, thank you." I put down the pen, a relieved smile on my pale face, as if I were handing over not my life and death, but a long-sealed old item. "My corneas are still healthy. If someone needs them, I hope they can help. I need to leave something behind, to prove I was here." Walking out of the hospital, the bitter cold wind of early winter mercilessly cut through my thin coat, like a knife cutting into my skin. But I felt it was just right. At least it kept me soberly aware that I was still alive. I didn't return to that apartment, filled with suffocating memories. Instead, I turned and went to the city library. The top-floor reading room had been completely transformed into Zach's memorial gallery. I stood at the entrance, not far away, looking at the newly arranged space. His keepsakes, photos, meticulously placed in his favorite spots, as if he had never left. I watched silently for a long time, but I didn't step inside. I turned and went to the management office on the first floor, placing a clearly itemized handover list, the library access card, and the keys to that apartment neatly on the table. They made a soft thud as they hit the wooden table, like the last echoes of me in this city, now cleanly severed. After doing all this, I took out my phone, opened the memo app, and, using the last of my strength, wrote a short letter. No accusations, no pleas, just a calm statement. Three years of heartache, crushed into these few dry lines of text. "Ethan, When you read this letter, I will no longer be in New York. Three years ago, during the yacht explosion, I didn't lock the cabin door. I fought with all my might to save Zach, but I failed. I know you don't believe me, but this is my last explanation. For these three years, I've accepted all the punishments you've given me. Now, my heart has completely failed. The doctor says I won't live past this month. I am paying for Zach's life with my own. We are completely even now. I wish you and Audrey a happy engagement." I set this letter for timed delivery, scheduled for my twenty-sixth birthday, also the day of his and Audrey's engagement. That was his happiest day, and the countdown to the end of my life. It would be my last birthday gift to myself. Then, I removed my phone's SIM card. I snapped it, and threw it, along with all the ties and potential calls from these three years, into a roadside trash can. At dusk, I boarded a bus alone, heading for a remote coastal town in Maine. It was where my mother had grown up, where a dilapidated but quiet old house stood. There was an empty coast there, salty sea breeze, no Ethan, and no endless torment. I wanted to quietly live out the last leg of my life there. The bus slowly pulled out of New York, the cabin dim and bumpy. I leaned against the cold window, watching the city that had trapped me for three years gradually recede in the sunset, the skyline merging into the twilight, eventually becoming a blurred halo of light. I slowly closed my eyes, my broken heart beating faintly and peacefully in my chest. Goodbye, Ethan. If there's a next life, I hope we never meet again.
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