Chapter 4

At 5:00 am, a medical transport vehicle pulled up in front of the inpatient building, and a nurse helped me load my suitcase into the trunk. Inside, there were only a few articles of clothing, my medical records, and the camera I had originally intended to use to photograph the snow-capped mountains.

Meanwhile, the group chat with Boaz, Drake, Evans, Finley, and me was buzzing, as lively as if they were throwing a whole party without me.

Cindy had posted a selfie taken at the airport. She hadn't asked anyone for help, beaming with bright, uninhibited energy. She wore a mountaineering backpack and held a suitcase in each hand.

Drake said immediately, "Look at Cindy—and then look at someone who can't even carry her own water bottle when she goes out."

Finley chimed in.

"If Arianna were even half as low-maintenance as Cindy, we wouldn't have had to resort to this."

Evans added, "That's enough. She'll just have another 'episode' if she sees this."

Boaz didn't defend me. He simply liked Cindy's selfie without a word.

So, the moment he held no more love for me, even my being ill was being reframed as a "lack of independence". They had forgotten that I wasn't the one asking to be taken care of on all our past trips.

It was Boaz who forbade me from carrying a backpack, Drake who wouldn't let me wander off, and Finley who insisted on carrying my water bottle. Even Evans would bring my medicine to my lips right on schedule.

They had given me the illusion that I was the one being cherished. And now, they blamed me for believing it.

I exited the group chat and deleted it. However, a message from Boaz popped up instantly.

"Still throwing a tantrum, are you? If you really want to see the snow-capped mountains that badly, I'll take you myself once we're back."

A second message followed immediately. "But you need to get your health back in order first. Don't end up being a burden to everyone along the way."

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then deleted his contact information.

Next, I deleted Drake, Evans, and Finley from my contact list as well. All 18 years of our friendship were wiped clean in less than a minute.

As the transport vehicle traveled along the airport expressway, a passenger plane soared overhead.

Another text then arrived from Cindy.

"Ari! I'll send the photo of the 'golden mountain' at sunrise to you the moment I capture it! Don't blame them for this. They just wanted things to be a little easier for them."

I didn't reply.

I no longer blamed them. I wasn't waiting for them anymore, either.

When I arrived at the hospital in another city, it was just beginning to get light.

The lead surgeon went over the risks once more. She said, "There is a possibility of severe arrhythmia during the surgery, and there is also a chance you might not wake up.

"Are you still unable to get a hold of any of your family members?

"I have no family members," I replied, signing my name on the surgery consent form.

As the nurse took my phone from me, a call came in from Boaz. I hadn't intended to answer, but she accidentally hit the speakerphone button.

Boaz's impatient voice echoed through the hospital hallway.

"Arianna, how much longer are you going to keep this up? We're about to take off. If you come to the airport now, you might still catch a glimpse of the plane.

"How about I take you to see the snow-capped mountains once I'm back?"

I asked him softly, "Do you still remember why I wanted to see the snow-capped mountains so badly?"

Silence came from the other end. He didn't remember.

When I was 17 years old, I lay in the intensive care unit after a failed surgery. It was Boaz who held my hand back then and said, "Once you get better, I'll take you to see the most beautiful snow-capped mountains in the world."

I waited for seven years. But in the end, he took someone else in my stead.

In the background, an announcement at the airport urged passengers to board. Boaz hurriedly tossed out a final remark.

"We'll talk when I get back."

Then the line went dead.

I turned off my phone and handed it to the nurse. The gurney moved down the long hallway, overhead lights flashing one after another.

The surgeon confirmed it with me one last time.

"Arianna Dawson, 24 years old. Do you have no family accompanying you?"

"No, I don't."

Just before the anesthesia mask was lowered over my face, I saw a plane outside the window soaring into the clouds.

They finally had the trip they wanted, completely unburdened by me.

And I, at last, was no longer a trouble to anyone.

The cold doors of the operating room slowly closed behind me.

As the anesthetic was pushed into my veins, I heard the surgeon shout urgently, "Her blood pressure is dropping. Ventricular fibrillation. Prepare for defibrillation."

The next second, the world went completely black.