Loved Me at the End

I clicked into the poster's profile. It was completely blank, no information at all.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Clinging to that thin hope, I scrolled down to the comments.

Almost everyone was condemning the poster for being ungrateful.

He replied to one of them.

[She didn't lose out. She's five years older than me and used to be my boss when I worked at a convenience store. I was only 22 when we got together. If you think about it, I'm the one who got taken advantage of by an older woman for 8 years.]

The age gap, the way we met… Too many details lined up.

I pressed my lips together, staring at the screen without blinking.

A netizen refused to let it go and commented, [She spent all that money on you. Doesn't your conscience hurt?]

The reply came fast. [I admit she treated me well. She paid for my education and helped me clear my debts. She even mortgaged her convenience store for me.

[But so what she did those things? She has no parents. She only did it because she was betting on my paying her back someday.

[Honestly, I planned to marry her at first. But then she tried to bait me with cancer to get money. That's when I felt like all my sincerity was wasted.

[She even asked on her birthday. Wasn't that just trying to force me to soften up?]

If there had been even the slightest doubt before about who the poster was, it was gone now.

Keith Hunter posted it.

Tears splashed onto my phone, blurring the words.

My stomach churned violently. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom.

I threw up until the world spun, the sink stained a glaring red.

My vision went dark in waves. I had to brace myself against the wall just to stay upright.

Lately, my stomach had been aching nonstop, and I barely had an appetite.

I had thought I was pregnant. I never imagined it was stomach cancer.

The doctor said it was only mid-stage. With aggressive treatment, there was still hope for a full recovery.

But when I thought about the massive debts Keith and I had spent years paying off, I couldn't even bring myself to talk about treatment.

I went home in a daze.

Keith walked out of the kitchen carrying a muffin, singing Happy Birthday as he came toward me.

"Amanda, happy birthday! Every year from now on, I'll celebrate with you!"

He rambled on about plans for the coming year, plans to fix up our little home and propose to me.

I looked at him, and before I could stop myself, I asked, "If I got cancer, would you save me?"

He frowned. "Hey, don't say stuff like that. It's bad luck."

"I mean hypothetically. Just tell me. Would you?"

I pressed on, my voice trembling.

He set the muffin down, took my hands, and looked at me with utter seriousness.

"Even if it costs everything I have, even if I have to sell my blood, I'll do it. I swear."

Afraid he would notice something was wrong, I quickly lowered my head and stared at the muffin.

I didn't see the cold flicker that passed through his eyes.

My tears dripped onto the muffin.

It was sweet, although I couldn't quite taste it.

I despised my own selfishness, even as I was moved by how kind he seemed to be.