THE WEIGHT OF LOVING YOU

JESSICA

"Yes, I’ll marry him."

The words slipped out before I could think twice. Before I could blink. They didn’t stumble; they flowed smoothly, like they'd been waiting in the back of my throat for far too long, clawing to be heard.

Mrs. Wilson’s tired eyes, those soft, faded eyes that had seen too much pain for one lifetime…looked up at me from the hospital bed.

They widened first in shock, then softened like I’d just handed her a reason to keep breathing.

“You will?” She asked, barely above a whisper. Frail and hopeful.

“Yes,” I said again, slower now, like maybe if I stretched it out, it would sound more sane. More rational. “I mean it.”

I leaned forward and hugged her. Carefully. Like she might shatter in my arms.

My heart was thudding in my chest… wild, uneven.

Because I didn’t say yes just because I loved him.

I said yes because it felt like the only way to finally make him mine. To go from almost to always.

God, that sounded awful. It was awful.

But it was also true.

She smiled faintly, fingers curling around mine like she was holding onto more than just my hand.

“My daughter,” she whispered.

Her voice wavered at the edges, but the warmth in it remained. “I knew it. I knew you were the one for him.”

My throat tightened.

“I’ll tell Liam tonight,” she added softly. “He’ll be happy. He’s just scared. Boys are slow.”

I nodded, pretending that didn’t terrify me. That I wasn’t already imagining how he’d react. Shocked? Confused? Angry? Or worse—blank. Indifferent.

Then she looked at me again with a spark of who she used to be, who she still was beneath the illness.

For a second, she wasn’t the woman tethered to tubes and machines. She was just my second mom, the one who made the best food and always smelled like warm vanilla when she hugged me.

“Tell your mom to come see me,” she said. Her smile grew a little. “I miss my best friend.”

I laughed softly through the tightness in my chest. “She misses you too. She told me to tell you that last week.”

It wasn’t a lie. My mom really did miss her.

They’d been inseparable since they were fifteen. Even now, with time and life and distance between them, they found their way back to each other. I used to be jealous of that bond, how sure and effortless it was.

I wanted something like that. Someone like that. Maybe that’s what I thought Liam would be for me. Or maybe that’s why I was doing this.

I kissed her cheek and whispered I’d be back soon, then left the room before the lump in my throat could make a scene.

I made it to my car, leaned against the door, and sucked in a breath that wouldn’t come easy.

“You really said it,” I whispered to the sky. “You’re actually doing this.”

The words echoed in my head like I was trying to convince myself it had really happened. I stared at the clouds, hoping they’d give me a sign. Anything.

But nothing happened. Just me, the sun, and a decision I couldn’t take back.

This wasn’t how I wanted it. Not even close.

I wanted him to look at me and know. Just know. No hesitation. No begging. No dying mother pulling strings from her hospital bed.

But if this was the only way to be his… If this was the only door he’d leave open for me, then I’d walk through it.

Even if it was the wrong one.

I pulled my phone out of my bag with fingers that couldn’t stay still and scrolled to Ava’s name. My thumb hovered over the call button. For a second, I thought about texting instead.

But I hit call.

She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey,” I said. I tried to sound normal. I didn’t.

“Jess?” Her voice went sharp. “You sound weird. What’s wrong?”

I looked up again at the sky and let out a little laugh, one of those broken, half-alive ones. “Nothing. Everything.”

“Jessica.”

“I’m coming over.”

And I ended the call before she could say anything else.

Ava was already lighting scented candles and humming to herself when I walked in… vanilla, cinnamon, and that weird lavender thing she always insisted helped with “emotional clarity.”

Honestly, it just smelled like a spa and a bakery had a baby.

The vibe was perfect, warm, safe, cozy.

I ruined it in seconds.

I screamed, “AVAAAAA!”

She jumped so high she almost set her hoodie on fire. “Jesus, Jess! What the actual hell?!”

I was grinning like a maniac, cheeks flushed, heart racing, my whole body buzzing like I’d just swallowed lightning. “Guess why I’m smiling right now.”

Ava narrowed her eyes like I’d become a science experiment. “You finally got laid?”

I let the suspense hang there for dramatic effect, then dropped it with all the grace of a bomb. “I’m getting married.”

Her soda nearly took flight. She choked, spluttered, and stared like I’d just told her I was moving to Mars.

“To who?”

I didn’t blink. “To Liam.”

Her jaw did something unholy. “Girl… are you drunk?”

I laughed so hard. I had to sit down before I keeled over. “No! I’m stone-cold sober. Like, uncomfortably sober. I said yes. To his mom. She asked me, and I… I just said it. It happened so fast. But also not fast? I don’t know. My brain short-circuited, Ava. But I meant it.”

She blinked at me like I was speaking a whole new language. “You said yes… to his mom?”

“Okay, wait, before you judge me into the grave, let me explain.” I waved a hand and took a deep breath. “The hospital room was quiet. She looked so fragile, Ava. And she just asked, out of nowhere. Like she knew. Like she’s known this whole time. And I just… I wanted to give her something. I don’t know. I wanted to give myself something too.”

Ava didn’t say a word. She just stared, processing, holding her drink like it might anchor her to the couch.

I kept talking. I told her everything, how Mrs. Wilson looked lying in that bed, how her voice sounded like goodbye, how she still called me her daughter, and how she asked for my mom. How Liam’s name was the only thing holding her together.

And then I broke a little. Right there between candlelight and pepperoni.

“She’s not just Liam’s mom,” I said, and my voice cracked. “She’s mine too. She’s been mine for years. I don’t want to lose her.”

Ava moved without hesitation. She sat next to me and pulled me into her arms, just like she had the night I found out Liam liked Samantha.

“She won’t go anywhere yet,” she whispered. “Not if the universe has any decency. And you…you’re marrying Liam. That’s completely wild. But also… kind of beautiful. In that chaotic Jessica way you do everything.”

I let out a watery laugh and wiped my face with my sleeve. “Is it possible to be selfish and sincere at the same time?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “You’re human. You love him. And she loves you. So even if the timeline’s a mess and the logic’s questionable, the heart of it is real. That’s all that matters.”

I sat there for a while with her, head resting on her shoulder, just letting the world slow down. Letting it feel less like a tidal wave.

Then my phone buzzed.

Once.

Then stopped.

I picked it up.

Five missed calls from Liam.

Ava leaned in, reading my face. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“You should go.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But he’s probably even more scared. Just go. Say what you need to say.”

I hugged her hard, like she was my last safe place. “Wish me luck.”

She pulled back, cupped my face. “You don’t need it. You’ve already got his heart. He just doesn’t realize it yet.”

The drive was chaos. Every red light felt like fate trying to stall me. Every second of silence in the car made my chest tighter. My thoughts were screaming.

I gripped the wheel so hard I thought it might snap in half. I didn’t breathe until I parked, and even then, it was just a gasp.

I barely shut the door before I was sprinting, didn’t even wait for the elevator. I took the stairs like my life depended on it. Two at a time. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. Knees wobbly.

The key shook in the lock. The one his mom gave me months ago, back when he was sick.

I opened the door.

Silence.

Too much of it.

I stepped into the apartment and everything looked… untouched. But something was off.

And then I saw him.

Liam.

He was on the floor, back against the couch, head bowed, an empty bottle of tequila beside him. His shirt was wrinkled. His eyes were red. He looked like the ghost of the boy I loved.

“Liam?” I whispered. My voice cracked, scared to be real.

No response.

I moved closer. One step. Another. Every inch made my heart crumble.

“Oh my Liam…”

I sank to my knees, not caring about the hardwood floor or the ache in my chest. I wrapped my arms around him. Slowly. Gently. Like I was holding broken glass.