Chapter 1
My fiancé fell in love with my bone marrow donor.
While I was on the brink of death, he whisked her off on a vacation.
abroad.
He told me it was to help ease her “pre–surgery anxiety“.
I told the doctor I wanted to be discharged. I was done with treatments.
He strongly objected, urging me to stay.
“Zorelle, the surgery has a really high success rate. We’ve spent years preparing. Don’t give up now.”
“Stephen has changed. He won’t help with my surgery anymore.
I gave a small, tired smile.
“Be happy for me. I’m finally going to enjoy the rest of my life.”
***
After another round of chemotherapy, the side effects hit me hard.
I was in so much pain, I opened Instagram just to distract myself.
That’s when I saw a random post, “I fell in love with the boyfriend of the person who was supposed to receive my bone marrow donation. I don’t think I can donate now. Does that make me a bad person?”
People in the comments were supportive.
“Love is a choice. Your body belongs to you.”
11
“Don’t feel guilty. If he really cares about you, then go for it.”
“Maybe he stayed with her out of nothing more than responsibility.”
Then she shared an update.
“Thanks, everyone. I told him how I felt, and we’re together now.”
She even posted an official photo of them holding hands, fingers interlocked.
On the man’s wrist, two letters were clearly tattooed, “ZZ“.
Those are my initials, an abbreviation of Zorelle Zeagler.
The man who once promised never to leave me is now with someone else. All he left me with was a sense of “responsibility“.
I left a short message under the post.
“I guess I’m the one who’s not gonna make it. Wishing this lovely couple all the best.”
Less than two minutes later, the original post was taken down, and comments were suddenly disabled.
It didn’t bother me.
I started a new post.
“While I was seriously ill, my fiancé fell in love with my bone marrow donor. He even took her on a vacation, saying that it was to help ease her pre–operative anxiety.”
Along with it, I added two pictures–one of my medical report and another of our engagement invitation.
Chapter T
That morning, my doctor, Travis Rifkin, came in early to check on me.
I did what I always did, answered the usual questions, and went along with the routine.
Just as he was about to leave, I asked quietly, “Dr. Rifkin, am I really going to die?
“I had this strange dream last night. I kept dying in different ways, like drowning, getting hit by a car, and even choking while eating. Do you think it means something?”
Travis was in his early fifties, a kind and gentle man.
After three years of knowing me, he treated me like his family. The moment those words left my mouth, his
eyes
welled up
with sudden
cars.
But years of being a doctor had taught him to stay composed. He held back his emotions and said gently, “Zorelle, there’s no scientific proof behind dreams. They probably just show that you’ve been really stressed lately.”
I didn’t say anything back.
He gently patted my head, like someone trying to cheer up a child.
“Are you feeling down because Stephen took Ms. Devlin on a trip abroad?”
I gave a small nod.
Braelyn Devlin said she had pre–operative anxiety, so my fiancé, Stephen Keagan, brought her to Mount Fuji to see the sunrise.
They say it’s a sacred place. If you make a break through the mist can cure any illness.
wish as the first rays of sunlight
07:51am)
Chapter 1
I’ve never had the chance to go.
It’s hard staring at the same dull hospital window every day.
17
Travis tried to lift my mood. “They’ll be back soon. Stephen mentioned. that we could go ahead with the surgery after they returned. Once you’re better, you’ll be able to travel anywhere.”
But I’ve heard that promise too many
times already.
“Just wait until Braelyn finishes her semester.”
“Just wait until Braelyn gains enough weight.”
“Just wait until Braelyn overcomes her psychological barriers.”
“Just wait until Braelyn…”
Ever since she agreed to donate her bone marrow, there’s always been a new excuse to postpone things.
They trapped me in this tiny room, walls closing in, and I had to rely on. them for my second shot at life.
And just like that, three years passed in a blink.
But now, I’m done waiting.
“Dr. Rifkin, how much time do I have left?”
He looked unsure of what to say.
“Please, just tell me the truth. I want to know.”
He bit his lip, his hands shaking a little. “Around three months.”
I didn’t feel scared or shocked. Honestly, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
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Chapter 1
At least there are still three months left.
Chapter 2
J
