Chapter 2

At noon, Hilary came home to cook for me, the same as always.

It was a habit he'd held to for years. No matter how busy he was, he made sure to eat with me.

Today he'd made beef stew, my old favorite.

I lifted a bite with my chopsticks and tasted nothing.

After the meal he counted two small white tablets from the pill box and set them in my palm.

"Pat, time for your medicine."

I took them and swallowed them down with warm water.

Something metallic and sweet rose in my throat. I turned my head and coughed twice, and blood, bright red, seeped out between my fingers.

Just then, the phone on the table buzzed.

Samantha had sent a voice message. It played out loud.

"Mr. Delgado, I can't get this quarter's data report to balance no matter what I try..."

Hilary glanced at me without thinking, his brow drawn tight, the impatience showing through.

"Get some rest. I need to go handle something at the office."

He didn't even wait for me to answer. He grabbed his coat and rushed out, the door slamming behind him.

I curled up alone on the cold sofa and sat there without moving until the sky went dark.

Today was my follow-up.

Hilary had forgotten long ago.

I took a taxi to the hospital alone. The doctor looked at the scans and let out a heavy sigh.

"Ms. Cooley, the cancer has spread everywhere. The time you have left... you need to prepare yourself."

As I walked out through the hospital doors, my feed refreshed.

It was a grid of photos Samantha had posted.

The caption read: 【Move went smoothly! Thanks to a certain someone for treating me to a big dinner to celebrate~】

In the pictures, Hilary was carefully picking the bones out of a fish, laying the meat into the bowl of the girl beaming across from him.

Just then, my mother called.

"Pat, how did the check-up go today?"

"It went fine."

"Didn't Hilary say a while back he'd take you around the world? Mom still remembers him saying he'd take you to Iceland to see the northern lights, to Switzerland to ski. He said you'd leave once your birthday came. Have you two booked the flights and hotels yet?"

Listening to my mother's worried voice on the other end, I finally couldn't hold it back. My voice broke as I spoke.

"Hilary... he's fallen in love with someone else..."

I hung up, and the heavy December snow of Ashford came down all over my head.

Looking at the vast white of it, I remembered how, every time we went out before, Hilary would put a scarf, gloves, a hat on me one by one, saying, "You've been afraid of the cold since you were little. If you catch a chill you'll ache all night and won't sleep, and I can't stand that."

A snowflake landed on my lashes. I blinked once, and it melted into water and ran down.

The truth was, ever since I found out Samantha existed, a ridiculous thought had even started to grow in me.

Why did I have to find out at all?

If I hadn't, then until the day I died, Hilary would always have stayed the boy who took my hand at fifteen.

Always the one who, even after I slapped him, still smiled and said, "It's okay."

Always the one who kept watch at my bedside for three days and three nights, holding my hand, saying he was afraid of me leaving.

I could have carried that illusion and died in peace.

But I found out anyway.

Hilary had gone from that warm, ardent boy into the hateful traitor he was now.