His Wish, My Dying Heart

thought it was just another one of my games to get his attention

me to the hospital, he grabbed my chin and

give you. I hope

l to be with his true love, Kacey-my best friend. She was t

fice to save his family from ruin. He never knew the depth of my lo

atch, I made my final choice. I would grant hi

pte

s cold beneath my bare feet. A sharp, twisting pain in my abdomen made me gasp, do

ng my reflection on the glass. My face was a ghostly white, shadowed by the

I he

e footsteps desc

der

lish hope. I took a shaky breath, gathering what little strength I had l

sper, barely audible, as if speaking h

ng, swept over me. There was no warmth, no flicker of recognition for the woman he marrie

breakfast?" I asked, my v

ope ignited within me. Maybe, just maybe

ble mask. He turned, without a word, and walked towards the front door. The sound of his

tricted, a familiar, agonizing pain spreading through me.

d. My fingers clamped onto the sl

ard on my lip to stop a cry from escaping. The metallic ta

low growl, laced with venom. He ya

gers clung to the very edge of his jacket, a desperate, last-di

ice trembling, each word a struggle. "I.

w I was self-reliant, fiercely independent. This wasn't a trick. This wasn't some m

s narrowing. "Whe

wave of nausea. I pointed vaguely to my lower ab

, Celina? Still acting for sympathy?" His words were like

rabbing my chin, forcing my face up to mee

hisper that promised irreversible damage. "I will never forgi

creaming in protest. I couldn't stop shaking, a violent tr

e, he strode into his study and the heavy oak door slammed shut, cuttin

d, struggling for air, clutching my stomach as if to physically

e in my pocket. My fingers, numb and clumsy,

ily dismissed. He stood by the window of his study, phone pressed to his ear, his face impassive. He assumed it was just another one of Celina

e believed she' d abandoned him then, seeking greener pastures. Thi

g a harsh glow on the stark white envelope in my hand. My name, Celina Fitzgerald,

ed in my head: "Terminal

lope, my eyes scanning the report, searching for a mistake, a typo, anythi

spered, my vo

in my chest. I rushed to another doctor, a specialist whose name I' d heard. I begged him for

k the same. A termin

sked, the words barely a breath. M

e me. He took my hand, his touch surprisingly warm. "We

umpled, fresh tears streaming down my face. "Everything you can?" I so

ge, for everything I had held onto. It was a failure I couldn't escape, a dem