James’s negative press disappeared quickly. Like a shooting star, gone in an instant. No one questions Hollywood’s PR machine. James remained an A–list star.
His relationship with Yasmine thrived in the public eye.
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They appeared on numerous dating shows, vacationed together, visited each other’s sets, shopped for groceries together, appeared everywhere as a unit… Occasionally, media would drag me out for “engagement” – beyond generating traffic, it mainly emphasized James and Yasmine’s perfect relationship.
I hadn’t been to the hospital for a checkup in six months.
They called several times, but I ignored them.
Until I woke up one morning to find blood soaking my pillow.
That scared me enough to return.
But I was too weak and dizzy to go alone, so I had to call Lucas.
Lucas has been by my side through everything.
But when he saw me this time, tears immediately filled his eyes.
“Sophie, how could you let yourself waste away like this?” he asked brokenly.
I hadn’t wasted myself away.
The disease consumed me despite my efforts.
I really had been eating properly, just as I promised James.
Lucas took me to the hospital.
The doctor berated me harshly.
They’d told me to come for monthly checkups, but I never showed.
Now my condition had deteriorated severely.
“How much time do I have left?” I asked.
The doctor said nothing.
Lucas stood nearby, visibly tense.
“It’s okay. I can handle it,” I said calmly.
“One month,” the doctor finally said quietly. “Perhaps less.”
My heart clenched painfully.
Only one month left.
When first diagnosed with terminal leukemia, I thought death was imminent. After surviving these years, I’d always been prepared to die.
Yet facing the reality now, I found it hard to accept.
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But I didn’t cry.
Lucas, this grown man beside me, suddenly sobbed uncontrollably. The doctor seemed uncertain whether to comfort me or him.
I pulled Lucas away from the hospital.
The doctor had suggested I stay, saying they could attempt resuscitation if
necessary.
Then what? Wake up just to die again?
Sometimes doctors have a strange sense of humor.
I sat in Lucas’s car.
Lucas continued crying; head against the steering wheel.
“Lucas, please stop crying,” I said, feeling helpless.
“Why do good people suffer? Sophie, you’re such a wonderful person. Why did this happen to you?” Lucas finally released his pent–up feelings. “Is the universe completely blind?”
“Maybe I was terrible in a past life, so I’m paying for it now. But I believe I’ll be very happy in my next life,” I offered.
Lucas cried harder hearing this.
“Come on, you promised to help me find a burial plot. Don’t let me die with
nowhere to rest,” I urged Lucas.
Lucas wiped his tears and nodded.
Lucas and I returned to my hometown.
I never particularly liked this city.
All my childhood misfortunes happened here. The only blessing was meeting James. But leaves must return to their roots. Los Angeles was never truly mine. Lucas and I visited many locations.
I fell in love with a wild coastline.
It faced the ocean, surrounded by tall grasses. The view was breathtaking. Lucas hated it: “It’s so isolated. Nothing around for miles. Aren’t you scared?” “Have you ever heard of ghosts being afraid?” I quipped.
“Just visit once a year. I like white roses,” I said, then realized the journey from Los Angeles would be too far. “Actually, once every five years is fine. I’ve always been
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good at handling solitude.”
Lucas’s eyes reddened again.
In college, he never cried, even when he broke his leg playing basketball.
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