Never to Meet Again

Looking at the medical report in my hand that marked the end of my life, I felt like God was playing a practical joke on me.

That was because tonight was the night that Oliver Sansbury would propose to me.

I grabbed the doctor's hand like I was grasping onto my lifeline, and then I asked him how much longer I had to live.

He said to me, "Although your cancer is advanced, if you actively comply with the treatment plan, it's not completely hopeless…"

"Good, good. I can still take care of Oli's heart," I murmured, comforting myself.

Even though I had called it a proposal, it hadn't been any sort of formal ceremony. It had just been a normal conversation between me and Oliver at home.

"This is a gift from my mother. It's up to you to decide," Oliver said as he took out the ring.

This guy really knew how to kill the mood!

Just as I was about to accept, Oliver's phone rang. I vaguely caught sight of the name "Ivy Hummer".

After hanging up, Oliver didn't even spare me a glance before heading out the door, grabbing his jacket from the couch as he went.

All of a sudden, I had a bad feeling in my gut. I quickly pulled him back and asked, "Where are you going? If we don't get engaged today, you might not get the chance again, even if you wanted to."

Oliver scoffed scornfully. "Sienna Jones, are you sure that that day will ever come?"

Well…

It did seem like that day would never come.

Even at the very beginning, he had only gotten together with me as an act of charity.

Seeing how I was frozen to the spot, he spoke again. "Ivy is back," he said, his tone softening at the mention of her name. "I'm going to have a drink with her and the others."

"Oli, you know that you can't drink with your heart condition! If you drink, you'll—"

"What a nag," he swiftly interrupted me.

If he drank, he'd die!

Feeling uneasy, I insisted on coming along with him.

In the private room, Oliver and I walked in, feeling everyone else's confused eyes on us. It seemed like they hadn't expected that I would come with him.

"Oliver, I heard you're getting married." Out of the blue, someone brought up the topic of marriage. I saw Oliver pull a face.

"Let's see. I'm not in a hurry," he replied casually, unwilling to talk about it.

I knew that it was because his first love, Ivy, was sitting across from him.

Ivy smiled slightly. Just as she was about to hand Oliver a glass of wine, I stopped her. "Ivy, you know that Oli can't drink."

"Why are you butting in for no reason?" Oliver asked me sternly.

As soon as he said that, Ivy shot me a provocative look. "See, Oliver wants to drink with me."

Before I could say anything, Ivy set down the glass in her hands. Then, she picked up a glass of vodka with 56% alcohol content from the bar and handed it to me.

"Since you said Oliver can't drink, then you should drink on his behalf. After all, you've done a lot of that over the past few years."

I thought about how many times I'd drunk on Oliver's behalf in the past few years. It had also increased my own tolerance.

The others began to whoop and cheer. Looking at Oliver, who hadn't said a word, I took the glass and downed it.

The flaming alcohol rushed down her throat, leaving behind a burn as it traveled to my stomach. My gut began to stir and roil.

I forced myself to swallow the metallic tang. At the same time, I gently advised Oliver to never drink again.

After all, I was about to die. Who would drink on his behalf then?

As I spoke, I felt my stomach churn. Thus, I went to the bathroom.

However, Ivy had never planned on letting Oliver off the hook. When I returned, I saw her raising a glass of wine to Oliver's lips.

I raised my hand. Then, a ringing slap reverberated through the private room, followed by a deathly silence.

Ivy cupped her cheek, staring at me incredulously.

"Ivy, don't tell me you don't know about Oli's condition? He can't drink—"

While I interrogated Ivy, I was interrupted by the sound of another slap.

Except this time, I was the one who got hit.

And the person who struck me was none other than Oliver.

Oliver glared at me ferociously, like a lion protecting its own food. "Sienna, do you really think that I'd marry you? You need to know your place. What right do you have to be speaking to Ivy like that?"

For a moment, I was stunned. However, Oliver didn't give me the chance to speak. He grabbed me and pulled me out of the private room.

"Get lost. You're ruining the fun."

I stumbled all the way home. When I finally collapsed on the ground, I wiped away the dry bloodstains around my mouth.

Oliver really hadn't held back with that slap.

His words kept echoing in my mind. Did I not have the right?

I recalled that when Oliver underwent his heart transplant, I had been the one who took care of him all day, even forgoing sleep and rest. Not to mention, his anti-rejection medication had become something that I carried around with me every day.

And what about Ivy?

After learning that Oliver had a bad heart, she had decisively chosen to move far away to be with her foreign teacher boyfriend.

However, in the end, I was the one who had no right to speak.

I closed my eyes and began to cough uncontrollably. A feeling of lightheadedness swept over me, and I ran to the bathroom to throw up.

The sound of my gagging was accompanied by the singing of water flowing into the sink. I lowered my head, my hair falling into the sink. At first, I was just violently dry heaving, but after a while, I began to vomit blood.

I threw up uncontrollably. Blood spilled from my mouth.

I looked up at my awful reflection. The person in the mirror had protruding cheekbones and a red, swollen face. Not only that, blood was leaking incessantly from her mouth.

I looked like a ghost. Suddenly, I found this hilarious.

The person who was on death's door was me. Yet, I was still worried that the alcohol would harm Oliver's heart.

After cleaning up the bathroom, I went back to the living room. When I saw the ring that Oliver had casually tossed onto the couch earlier that night, my mouth curved into a wry smile.

They said good things came to people who waited, but that wasn't true. All I got was a ruthless slap in the face.

There was no need to stay here any longer. I took out a suitcase and started packing my things.

However, looking around, there didn't seem to be a lot of my things. Oliver never liked me putting too many of my possessions on display.

As I packed, I found that the house was covered in all sorts of sticky notes, like the ones that I'd find everywhere in high school.

The one on the couch read, "Don't be a couch potato. Remember to get up and exercise!"

The one on the fridge read, "Eat less food that is high in sodium and spice! To protect your heart, you mustn't drink either!"

Above the drawer, the sticky note said, "I've prepared the anti-rejection medication that you need to take daily. Remember to take it with you."

Then, there was another one on the wardrobe…

These sticky notes were all over the house.

Oliver didn't like it when people brought up his heart condition. He didn't care about his condition either.

On the contrary, I was the one who constantly fretted over his heart. I took care of him meticulously like I was raising a child.

Perhaps I had taken care of him so well that he could go drinking with other women now.

After leaving the house Oliver and I shared, I hailed a cab to my old house. Oliver didn't like it here; he said that it was too small and isolated, so he had never so much as stepped through the doorway.

As I entered the home, I thought about the good times we had.

I had been a picky eater since birth. Despite my poor upbringing, I had very particular preferences. However, I was afraid of getting scolded by the adults for it, so he would always finish my food without feeling disgusted.

It was completely different from the Oliver now, who wouldn't even touch a cup that I'd drunk from.

Whenever I got bullied in school, he would always be the first one to stand up for me and beat up my bully.

When I was younger, I was very introverted. On top of that, I was also adopted. If he hadn't protected me, I most likely would have been badly bullied.

The day my adoptive mother died, I had sobbed so hard I nearly went into shock.

I said, "No one wants me anymore."

He replied, "I'll always be here for you."

I repeated myself, and so did he.

In the days after Oliver's heart transplant, I frequently made him chicken soup from scratch.

One time, he suddenly threw a tantrum, and the thick, boiling liquid ended up spilling over the back of my hand. It instantly left a bright red burn.

However, he didn't even spare me a glance.

It was all because I had brought up Ivy's name one time.

Lying on the bed, I wondered why Oliver and I had gotten together.

Initially, I had just wanted to protect him. I would have been happy just to see his heart thumping.

The bracelet incident had been the turning point.

At the time, I had heard that a bracelet that the church had blessed would bring safety and peace to the wearer. Thus, I'd traversed the mountains numerous times and finally managed to beg the church to give me one for Oliver.

However, it began to rain on my way down from the mountain that day. I ended up with a high fever at the end of the descent.

Oliver scolded me in the hospital room for being so stupid. Meanwhile, I handed him the bracelet, my face pale.

His eyes reddened. I thought that he'd been moved by what I did, but I later found out that it was because Ivy had announced her relationship with the foreign teacher on Instagram that day, complete with an intimate photo of her and her new beau.

However, because of that, Oliver and I had started dating.

Coming to think of it, I had to thank Ivy.

In the dark, I stared at the blurry outline of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Perhaps, when one was on the brink of death, they felt more calm instead.

When I woke up the next day, my stomach was killing me. My insides churned like there was a big hand inside twisting my organs into knots.

While I was curled into a ball on the bed, the ringtone that I had specifically set for Oliver rang. Enduring the pain, I answered the phone.

Oliver's impatient voice sounded. "Sienna, where the hell are you?"

"Oh, I moved out," I said, trying my hardest to sound normal.

"What the hell are you playing at? Did you move out just because I slapped you once?" he asked in disbelief.

It was as if that wasn't even worth mentioning to him.

"Yes, we're over," I said, my voice turning cold.

Oliver flew into a rage. "Fine. You'd better not regret this and come begging for my forgiveness."

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to speak slowly through the agony. "I won't."

Before waiting for his reaction, I hung up.

Afterward, I spent a long time holed up at home. Oliver and I hadn't bothered each other since that phone call. That heartbeat that I'd thought about day and night also began to fade.

In the beginning, I relied on those beautiful memories to keep going. However, I frequently found myself rudely awoken from my dreams as time passed. The piercing agony in my stomach was pure torture, making me wish that I was dead.

However, at moments like this, one's survival instinct came through.

When the painkillers could no longer stop the pain, I dragged myself to the hospital. I promised the doctor that I would come back the following week for inpatient treatment.

However, when I returned the next week, I bumped into Oliver at the hospital. He was here to accompany Ivy to get a consultation.

I looked up at the board. It was an obstetrics and gynecology examination.

Hm, they didn't waste any time getting pregnant.

Oliver suddenly whipped around, which made me turn around and flee in fear. I was afraid that he'd see me in this sorry state.

Thinking about it, it was rather ridiculous, like I was the one who had done something wrong.

Nonetheless, I never imagined that Oliver still saw me.