A Day To Her Wedding

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.