His Wedding March, My Passing Bell

The doctor pushed the admission form toward me.

“You need to be hospitalized immediately.

“Given your current condition, a massive hemorrhage could occur at any moment.”

I clutched my dully aching stomach and asked softly, “If I don’t stay, how much time do I have left?”

The doctor fell silent for a long time.

“Perhaps a month.

“Perhaps a few days.”

I nodded, folded the admission form neatly, and slipped it into my bag.

My phone chimed right on queue.

The cemetery coordinator was calling to remind me that the burial plot beside the sycamore tree would only be held until this afternoon.

I needed ten grand to keep it.

I had picked the spot after spending a long time searching.

It was quiet, and bathed in sunlight.

Not too cold for a resting place.

When I returned to the office, Lucas was in the conference room helping his fiancée Sally Peters pick out wedding jewelry.

Over a dozen velvet boxes were spread across the long table.

Even the cheapest necklace among them was enough for three burial plots.

I placed my request for a salary advance beside his hand.

“Mr. Brooks, I’d like an advance of ten thousand dollars.”

He didn’t look up.

“What for?”

“An urgent matter.”

“What urgent matter?”

I tightened my grip around the envelope containing my medical report.

“For a burial plot.”

Lucas finally looked up at me.

After a brief silence, a harsh laugh slipped past his lips.

“What kinda new game have you come up with this time?”

I handed the diagnostic report over to him.

“I have cancer.”

His gaze lingered on the paper for merely a second.

Then, he ripped both the application form and the diagnostic report down the middle.

The torn shreds fluttered down around my feet.

“Eight years ago, you took half a million from my mother and married Jack Solomon.

“Now that he’s done with you, you’re crawling back here for a pity party?”

Jack had been dead for five years.

That marriage had been a sham from the very beginning.

Yet I had promised Lucas’s mother that I would never speak a single word of the truth to him.

I bent down, picking up the torn pieces of the diagnostic report.

“Consider it a loan.”

Lucas leaned back against his chair, his gaze icy.

“During the wedding prep, all funds are subject to a strict audit. Business or personal, no loan at the moment.”

Sally picked out a diamond necklace from one of the velvet cases and spoke up gently:

“Babe, Sophia looks really pale. Why not let her rest for a few days?”

Lucas fastened the necklace around her neck.

His movements now were so tender, he seemed like an entirely different person.

“No need.

“She’s the one in charge of the wedding.

“If one detail goes wrong, I’ll hold her personally responsible.”

Having said that, he pushed a thick stack of files toward me.

“Seventy-two hours.

“The venue, guest list, attire, media coverage—go through every single detail.”

I gathered the heavy files into my arms, a coppery taste surging up my throat.

I forced myself to swallow the gulp of blood back down.

Before stepping out of the conference room, I turned back to look at Lucas.

“Once the wedding is over, may I resign?”

He was adjusting a stray lock of Sally’s hair, not bothering to toss a glance at me.

“Suit yourself.”

I gave a gentle nod.

I’d wait till the whole thing was over then.

That was if I could manage it.