His Death Day, Her Wedding Day

His Death Day, Her Wedding Day

Gavin

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The phone felt heavy in my hand, a cold, dead weight. It had been a year since I last heard her voice, a year of silence that felt like a lifetime. My doctor' s words echoed in my head: "Glioblastoma, stage four. I' m sorry, Ethan. We' re talking months, maybe less." I called her, my thumb hovering over the button. "Happy wedding day," I said, pushing the words out. "And the second thing... you once promised that you' d carry my coffin after I die." The line went dead. A week after that promise, Olivia had left me. "I never loved you, Ethan," she had said, her face a mask of indifference. Her words broke me more than the illness ever could. That' s why I was in Zurich, in a sterile room, scheduled to end my life tomorrow. But then I saw her, by the lake, skipping stones, just like we used to. As I took a step towards her, a man came up, wrapping his arm around her waist. Liam Stone. "Olivia' s fiancé," he said, extending a hand. "We' re actually getting married tomorrow." My death day would be her wedding day. The universe had a sick sense of humor. I fled, only to stumble into the path of an oncoming tram. Olivia saved me, pulling me back. But as she pulled me up, her sleeve rode up, and I saw it: a silver bracelet, engraved with "L.S." She had been with him while we were still together. My life, my love, my everything, was a lie. "I' m dying," I told her, hoarse. "I have a brain tumor." Her facade cracked. Then, she asked me for a favor. "I need you to take the photos, Ethan. Just for the ceremony." I agreed, on one condition: "I want a photo. Just one. Of you and me. Together." She agreed, then immediately abandoned me for Liam. At the wedding, she used my origami stars, our special date on her new wedding ring. "It never meant anything, Ethan," she said, her eyes cold. "It was never real." I was numb. I left, heading back to the clinic, my fate sealed. Then, a text from Liam: We could use an extra hand with some last-minute wedding preparations. He was trying to buy my compliance, to turn my final day into a transaction. Fine, I replied. I didn' t know why I agreed. Maybe I needed to burn the image of her happiness into my brain so I could finally let go.

Introduction

The phone felt heavy in my hand, a cold, dead weight.

It had been a year since I last heard her voice, a year of silence that felt like a lifetime.

My doctor' s words echoed in my head: "Glioblastoma, stage four. I' m sorry, Ethan. We' re talking months, maybe less."

I called her, my thumb hovering over the button.

"Happy wedding day," I said, pushing the words out. "And the second thing... you once promised that you' d carry my coffin after I die."

The line went dead.

A week after that promise, Olivia had left me. "I never loved you, Ethan," she had said, her face a mask of indifference.

Her words broke me more than the illness ever could.

That' s why I was in Zurich, in a sterile room, scheduled to end my life tomorrow.

But then I saw her, by the lake, skipping stones, just like we used to.

As I took a step towards her, a man came up, wrapping his arm around her waist. Liam Stone.

"Olivia' s fiancé," he said, extending a hand. "We' re actually getting married tomorrow."

My death day would be her wedding day. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

I fled, only to stumble into the path of an oncoming tram. Olivia saved me, pulling me back.

But as she pulled me up, her sleeve rode up, and I saw it: a silver bracelet, engraved with "L.S."

She had been with him while we were still together. My life, my love, my everything, was a lie.

"I' m dying," I told her, hoarse. "I have a brain tumor."

Her facade cracked. Then, she asked me for a favor. "I need you to take the photos, Ethan. Just for the ceremony."

I agreed, on one condition: "I want a photo. Just one. Of you and me. Together."

She agreed, then immediately abandoned me for Liam.

At the wedding, she used my origami stars, our special date on her new wedding ring.

"It never meant anything, Ethan," she said, her eyes cold. "It was never real."

I was numb. I left, heading back to the clinic, my fate sealed.

Then, a text from Liam: We could use an extra hand with some last-minute wedding preparations.

He was trying to buy my compliance, to turn my final day into a transaction.

Fine, I replied.

I didn' t know why I agreed. Maybe I needed to burn the image of her happiness into my brain so I could finally let go.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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