Chapter 2

Honestly, I never really cared if I got sick.

We're born, then we wait around to die. Dying early just meant leaving this world sooner.

Maybe the universe heard me.

Because I really got diagnosed.

Late-stage cancer.

Three months left. Max.

Three months.

Johan couldn't even finish one project that fast.

But that was all I had left.

***

I walked out of the hospital building with the diagnosis in my hand.

Like any other day, I walked at my usual pace. When I passed a trash can, I tossed the report in.

The second I stepped outside the gate, my phone rang.

Johan.

He had a private thing today, the kind where a secretary didn't belong. If he was calling now, there was only one reason.

Sure enough, the second I picked up, he proved me right.

I went to the club he texted me.

The second I opened the door, two women were draped all over Johan, totally into him.

I stopped in the doorway, frowning.

All I wanted was to turn around and leave.

Then Johan noticed me.

He shoved them off, stood, and walked over.

My hands curled into fists.

Like I had a thousand times over the last seven years, I braced myself and went blank.

Without a word, Johan took my hand and led me upstairs.

I knew what he wanted.

I'd known the second he called.

I followed him into the room.

Then, like always, I let him pull me into his arms.

***

When I woke up, Johan was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and smoking.

He heard me move and looked back.

A check landed on the bed in front of me.

I stared at it.

He only said a few words.

"I'm bored with you."

Something inside me cracked.

Like porcelain shattering, sharp pieces cut across my heart.

Still, my voice came out calm.

I even smiled.

"I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?"

Johan frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place."

My smile froze.

The crack inside me split wider. I couldn't say a word.

We'd been together for seven years.

And Johan still didn't know.

I never joked about things like that.

***

I quit.

With only three months left, I wanted that time for myself.

Besides, near the end, cancer can wreck you beyond recognition.

I didn't want anyone seeing me like that.

I didn't need their pity.

Johan called while I sat staring at a table full of food.

All my favorites.

But the smell made me sick.

Pain slammed through my upper stomach like a hammer, hitting the same nerves again and again.

The ringtone cut through the silence.

I stared at the screen before answering.

"Hello?"

"Yara, I don't like women who play games."

Johan's voice had its usual chill. Even a simple sentence from him could make people shiver.

Normally, I'd apologize right away and do whatever it took to make him feel better.