Chapter 15

When I woke up, the ward was entirely silent. It seemed as though everything that had happened had been nothing but a dream.

I could tell Jason was getting busier by the day. Sometimes, he would come by around two or three in the morning, only to leave a few hours later around six o'clock. I knew he cherished the time we spent together, so I said nothing. All I could do was wait for him.

That night, I simply couldn't stay awake any longer. As I drifted off into a hazy sleep, Jason entered the room. After washing up quietly, he didn't head over to the cot beside mine. Instead, he walked straight to my bed and pulled me into his arms.

The scent of his shampoo lingered on him. As he held me close, I murmured drowsily, "What's wrong?"

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hair tickling my skin. I reached up to touch his soft hair as he whispered hoarsely, "Just needed a minute."

My heart ached. It felt like I was being stabbed by thousands of needles all at once. When my mind cleared, I also began to relax with Jason by my side. I soaked up the warmth radiating from him greedily. After a long while, I spoke into his chest.

"Jason," I said.

"Yeah?"

"I want to cut my hair."

He didn't move, nor did he rush to speak. His light, slow breaths brushed against my neck.

I didn't speak either. I stayed quiet in his embrace until he responded. As always, he indulged in my every whim.

"Okay," he said.

I didn't know why those words suddenly came out of my mouth. Still, the moment I said it, Petunia's bright smile flashed across my mind. Suddenly, it didn't feel as painful anymore.

Jason didn't give me a chance to regret my decision. The next day, he returned with a toolbox before the sun had even begun to set.

He placed a chair by the window for me to sit in, then deftly tied a smock around my waist. The golden sunset was tinged with pink. I watched my shadow stretch across the floor, feeling rather drowsy.

Jason gathered my long hair together. When his fingers brushed against my earlobe, I instinctively flinched.

I could hear him laugh cheerfully. "What are you so afraid of?" he teased.

He tied my hair into a low ponytail, his voice close to my ear.

"You look prettier with short hair," he said.

Time seemed to turn back to the year I was 13. Back then, I was wild and reckless, having been spoiled rotten by Dad.

One day, I went up the hills with my friends for a barbecue. Not only did we fail to grill anything properly, but we also nearly burned down the place. My long hair happened to get caught in the flames as well.

That was the first time Dad was properly stern with me. I was grounded for two days.

At that time, my hair meant more to me than life itself. After the scorched ends were trimmed off, the rest of my hair looked jarringly uneven. When the hairdresser told me that the only solution was to cut the rest of my hair off, I cried and refused. So, I holed myself up at home for the next few days, sporting that bizarre haircut.

Then, late one night, Adrian couldn't bear to watch me act that way any longer. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off my hair—along with my stubbornness—in one swift snip.

I threw a massive tantrum after that. The entire Price household descended into chaos under my wrath. Dad scolded Adrian, then dragged him to my door to apologize. But none of his apologies helped matters.

In the end, it was Adrian's blunt words that convinced me to visit the hair salon, albeit with tears streaming down my face. "It couldn't possibly look uglier than it is now," he had said.

When Jason returned from summer camp and saw me, I looked like a bird with all its feathers plucked.

I was still young and clueless back then. Still, I cared deeply about how the handsome boy from next door saw me.

Under his surprised stare, my eyes instantly welled up with tears of hurt. I buried my face in my shirt.

"You look prettier with short hair, Cassie," Jason said back then.

Now, I placed the lock of hair Jason had cut under Petunia's pillow. It had been years since I'd prayed for the heavens to spare me, but today, this was all I could do for Petunia.

The next morning, the sunlight was blinding. Petunia's surgery went unexpectedly smoothly. Her parents wept, clutching the lead surgeon's hands and thanking him with trembling voices.

That night, I saw Petunia's tiny figure through the thick glass. She was almost swallowed by the row of medical equipment around her as she slept soundly. She had survived.

Afterward, the days dragged on monotonously. When I wasn't receiving chemotherapy, I was taking my medication. I'd started learning to knit with Petunia's mom.

It turned out that handicrafts as such required a certain talent. By the time Petunia's mom finished her third hat, I was finally able to produce a crooked, uneven scarf.

One day, Petunia died.

She stopped breathing before she even entered the operating room. I'd just returned from a walk with Jason when I heard the news.

Petunia's grandma staggered past us, supported by others. Her mom collapsed onto the tiled floor, clutching the doctor's coat, begging him to save her daughter once more.

Her makeup was smeared from her tears, and her clothes were wrinkled. She'd initially promised to take Petunia home today.

Jason covered my eyes and steadied my swaying body. How we made it back to my room remained a complete blur.

My body collapsed soon after. That night, I vomited blood.

I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious. When my awareness returned, I woke up to the steady beeping of the machines around me.

The first person who came into view was Jason. His voice was hoarse beyond recognition. Even his fingers trembled as he held my hand.

I tried to lift my hand, but I couldn't muster any strength. Days of receiving IV drips had left both my arms a mess.

Jason rushed closer, but my vision was already beginning to blur. The pain was unbearable.

Tears streamed down my face. I sobbed, almost pleading. "I want to go home," I said.

Jason's eyes reddened. After days in despair, he looked utterly broken. He bent down and wrapped his arms around me, trembling.

"Alright. Let's go home," he conceded.