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Chapter 8
The bells tolled through the silent church, each chime long and mournful.
Julian felt the sound pierce through his skull like thunder. He turned to Samantha and asked, voice tight, “Who were they talking about? On the broadcast–who was it?”
Samantha stared at him, eyes wide, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. She looked at Julian’s blank expression and shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I don’t know…”
Julian took a step back, frozen. Then suddenly, he yanked his hand from Samantha’s and strode into the church. He grabbed the arm of
a nearby mourner and asked hoarsely, “The woman they just mentioned–what was her name?”
The man looked at him strangely. “I think it was… Nina Carter. Do you know her?”
Julian went completely still. The name echoed in his head like a gunshot.
No. No. That couldn’t be.
She was just here yesterday. Standing in front of him. Smiling, telling him, “I wish you a lifetime of happiness.”
His entire body went cold.
Then, his phone rang.
The screen flashed with an unfamiliar number. The longer it rang, the heavier the dread in his chest grew. He felt like if he picked it up,
if he heard the truth, it would become real.
Still, his trembling finger hovered over the answer button.
J
Samantha threw her arms around him from behind, her voice breaking into a sob. “Please–whatever it is, can we talk about it after the
ceremony? Today’s our wedding. You promised me the perfect wedding…”
She could feel it–if he took that call, everything she’d fought for, everything she’d built, would fall apart.
Hot tears soaked into the back of Julian’s tuxedo.
He pressed “Answer.”
And a calm, unfamiliar voice came through the line.
“Is this Mr. Julian Ford? I’m calling from the assisted dying clinic. Before she passed, Ms. Nina Carter requested that you be the one to bring her ashes home.”
Julian stood rooted in place. It felt like ice was flowing through his veins.
“…What did you say?” His voice was barely audible. “Assisted dying? What are you talking about?”
His composure cracked. He shouted, voice hoarse, “She wouldn’t–she couldn’t have–why would she…‘
And then he stopped.
Three days ago. There had been a call. A woman said Nina had scheduled an assisted death.
And he’d said, “Tell her to stay far away.”
”
The memory hit him like a blade, slicing through his ribs. The air was sucked from his lungs. His heart twisted so violently it made him
stagger.
He tore away from Samantha and ran.
“Julian!” she cried, chasing after him. Her makeup was ruined, streaked with tears. “Julian, what about your promise to my mom? You
swore–before she died!”
Julian turned to look at her.
But his eyes didn’t really see her. It was like he was staring through her at something far away, something gone.
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His face was white snow.
“I’m sorry, Samantha. I’m
sorry.”
He pushed past her
climbed into the car, and drove.
He couldn’t hear b
crying
him. Couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his own head.
The road blurred. The trees, Time blurred. It felt like the world had dissolved into fog, and he was lost in it–gasping for air, for
light, for a way to go back.
Nina’s voice played over and over in his mind, “I’m just here for a checkup.”
Blood staining folder of bridal gowns, yet she said, “I must’ve caught a cold.”
And in the hospital, her soft gaze out the windo
“My parents… they’re gone. Julian, could you take a picture of me?”
He never told her the truth–her complexion had looked terrible that day. Even the warm orange hotel lights couldn’t hide the ghostly pallor of her skin.
Her smile had been thin. Her eyes, too clear. Like tears had been there, just beneath the surface.
She’d said, “I wish you a lifetime of happiness–with her.‘
The tires screeched as he pulled up in front of the facility.
He burst through the doors.
“)
The sterile scent of antiseptic hit him hard. Everything inside was white–too white. Blinding and silent and suffocating.
A nurse turned to him. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for someone” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. “Nina Carter.”
The nurse blinked. “Ms. Carter? I’m afraid… she passed away this morning. Likely being cremated now.”
Then she added, “You must be the one she named. She said you’d bring her home.”
Julian stood there, hollow.
Another worker approached with something in his hands.
“I was her coordinator,” he said gently. “She left a journal. Since you knew her… she wanted you to have it.”
Julian took it.
He opened the first page.
Tears spilled from his eyes before he could even read the words.
They fell onto the paper, smudging the ink, bleeding into the lines,
الله
الا
الله
الله
الله
الا
ا
IM
www
wwwww
The first entry read: “July 1, 2024. Sunny. It’s been two months since we broke up. Julian, I’m dying.”
Chapter 8
