In the end, I never said a proper goodbye. Perhaps that was for the best. I'd never been fond of partings.

After more than twenty hours on the train, I returned to the dilapidated brick house I once called home. The neighbors had long since moved away, leaving the once-bustling alley silent and desolate.

I had just sunk into the sofa to rest when I realized my phone had been dead since the train ride, shut off for over ten hours.

The moment I powered it back on, a call came through.

It was Sean.

"Why was your phone off? Where did you go?"

I forced a smile. "The battery died. Sean, take care of yourself. I'm fine. But… I'm not coming back."

Nor could I.

Silence stretched on the other end. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and husky.

"You want to leave me forever."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. And of course, he would know—someone as meticulous as him must have already noticed that all my things were gone.

I didn't answer him. Instead, I asked, "It's been ten years. Do you still resent me for sending your father to prison?"

He said nothing.

"I'll come get you," he replied at last, then ended the call without another word.

Huge tears splattered across my phone screen, fracturing into a spray of tiny droplets. I kept wiping them away with a bitter smile, but no matter how hard I tried, they wouldn't stop falling.

The truth is, he had always been quiet.

After I testified and sent his father to prison—where his father was eventually executed—Sean became even more sparing with words.

Back then, I didn't understand. He had endured so much abuse. I was only helping him, so why did he still carry resentment toward me?

It was only now, back in this house, alone within its walls, that I finally saw the reason.

I was a child raised with my parents' love.

But for him, even within a violent home, he still longed to earn the smallest scrap of affection through his own endurance.

And I severed that last fragile hope.

No matter how many years I stayed by his side afterward, loneliness had already rooted deep inside him.

I was exhausted. Soon, I drifted into sleep and dreamt of the first time I saw Ginny standing beside him.

It had been at a dinner with friends after he'd started his business.

I was about to walk in when the room erupted with laughter and teasing, "Sean, you two look so perfect together! I've never seen such a fitting pair. Be together! Be together!"

I looked down at my plain clothes, then quietly turned and left without entering.

That night, Sean suddenly asked me, "What makes two people truly a good match?"

I smiled. "A good match is when you stand together, and everyone who sees you thinks you belong as a pair."

Back then, rumors spread quickly through the school that we were living under the same roof. A group of classmates cornered me in the alley, mocking me, flicking cigarette butts at my body.

They tore my clothes, burned my skin with glowing embers, and sneered that this was exactly what his father used to do to his mother—that only someone as ruined as me could attract Sean.

Everyone said I was an old woman preying on a younger man, that we didn't belong together.

And in truth, they weren't wrong. Someone as rough and ordinary as I was never worthy of standing at his side.

Later that night, he asked me again, "To stay together for a lifetime, both sides have to give a lot, don't they?"

I shook my head. "Not always. Sometimes one person's love alone is enough. It depends on how deeply they love you."

When he was accepted into university, I sold my blood on the black market three days in a row to cover his tuition. My body grew pale and weak, but as soon as I recovered a little, I went to pick up more part-time jobs.

A sudden, urgent pounding at the door yanked me from sleep.

Morning light had already filled the room.

I hurried to answer, and when I opened the door, disappointment crashed over me like a wave.

Standing there was a stranger. Deep down, some part of me had still been hoping it would be Sean. But it wasn't.

"Hello," the man said politely. "I'm from the property company. My name's Jordan Kaylen. This area is scheduled for demolition soon, and I've come to discuss compensation."

I let him inside. He got straight to the point, but the offer he gave was insultingly low.

"I don't agree," I said firmly. "You'll have to raise the price."

In the past, I wouldn't have pressed so hard. But now, with little time left, all I wanted was to leave more money behind for Sean.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a message.

It was from Sean.

Sean: [Sorry. I have to travel for work. I'll come get you in a few days.]

Immediately after, another message popped up—it was from Ginny.

Ginny: [Cass, you're not angry, are you? I was too scared to travel alone, so I asked Sean to come with me.]

Me: [That's good.]

Jordan and I bargained back and forth for a very long time until my stomach growled, betraying me.

He grinned, flashing perfect white teeth. "Let me buy you breakfast. I haven't eaten either."

I didn't refuse. Every coin I could save now was another coin left behind for Sean.

At the bakery, Jordan sighed. "I'm just an employee. New to the company, actually. I wish I could get everyone a fair deal. By the way, shouldn't you tell your boyfriend about this?"

I gave a dry laugh. "Trying to trick me into talking? I don't have a boyfriend. Satisfied now?"

He scratched his head awkwardly. "That's not what I meant. I've just… heard a lot of stories about you from the neighbors. I was curious, honestly. Mostly, I admire how optimistic you are."

That word—optimistic—stunned me. I said nothing, simply stood and walked home.

The moment the door shut behind me, I broke. Tears crashed down in a flood I couldn't stop.

He was right. Once, I had been so optimistic.

When my parents died, I didn't give up. I forced myself to live each day with hope, with a smile.

Through ten years of Sean's cold indifference, I stayed cheerful, trying every trick I could think of to make him laugh.

I always believed the world was already cracked and broken, but if you could stitch it together with a smile, it could still be beautiful.

But somewhere along the way, my optimism died.

Maybe it was the day I first saw Ginny standing beside him.

Maybe it was the day I held the cancer diagnosis in my hands.

Or maybe… it was simply that I no longer had a reason to keep smiling.

The sobs wracked me until pain tore through my abdomen. I doubled over, choking up a mouthful of blood.

Only then did I remember… I had forgotten to take my medicine that morning.

I crawled across the floor, dragged myself to the table, and swallowed the pills with trembling hands.

It took a long time before I could finally sit up again, leaning against a chair, gasping for air.

Then my phone began to buzz nonstop.

A stream of messages from Sean filled the screen.

Sean: [These listings look good. Check them out and pick one.]

Sean: [In seven days, I'll take you to see them in person.]

Staring at his texts, I couldn't help but smile through my tears. I typed back: [How are you going to pick me up if you don't even know where I am?]

His reply came instantly.

Sean: [Our old home.]

And just like that, the tears fell again.

It was the first time he had ever called this place home.

Every time I used to say, "Come home for dinner with me", he would always retort, "That's not my home."

But now, he finally acknowledged it.

And yet, this home would vanish soon—disappearing along with me.

Though I never looked at those houses, I couldn't stop myself from picturing what it might be like—seven days later, Sean arriving to take me away.

But almost immediately, a new message appeared.

It was from Ginny. Photos of her clinging to Sean's arm as they toured scenic spots together.

Her smile was sweet, her eyes brimming with happiness. And though his face remained its usual stoic mask, zooming in revealed the faintest upward curve at the corner of his lips.

Ginny: [Cass, this place is gorgeous. Don't worry, Sean is having so much fun with me.]

My fingers trembled against the screen. That was when I realized that in all the ten years we had lived together, we didn't even have a single photo.

Perhaps it was better this way. When I was gone, he would forget me all the faster.

Me: [That's great. I'm happy that you're happy.]

Pathetic as it was, I still cried myself to sleep that night.

The next morning, someone knocked on my door again.

It was Jordan. This time, he wasn't in his work uniform. He stood there smiling, holding some sandwiches.

"There are still a few households here I haven't settled with," he explained cheerfully. "To make work easier, I moved in next door. I made these myself. Let's share a meal."

I nodded and let him in.

Afterward, while helping me clear the dishes, he noticed the medicine on my table. He picked it up curiously. "What's this for?"

I snatched it back. "Sleepwalking pills. Since you're living next door, better be careful. I might get up at night and mistake you for a watermelon. I've been craving them recently."

He raised his hands quickly. "No, no, please don't. I'm not ripe yet."

Our eyes met, and suddenly we both burst into laughter. I laughed so hard I bent double, tears streaming down my face.

For the next few days, he became my regular meal companion.

It wasn't just about saving money. At the end of my life, I wanted to know what it felt like to be friends with a man other than Sean.

During those days, Sean never stopped sending me messages.

Sean: [Your hair dryer's too old. I bought you a new one, use it when I'm back.]

Sean: [Passed by the mall. Got you a bag. Yours is already worn through. Toss it.]

Sean: [A client gave me some hand cream. They say it works for frostbite. I'll bring it back for you.]

…

Meanwhile, Ginny's social feed was flooded with updates every day—dozens of photos of her and him.

Drinking with clients. Shopping together. Watching fireworks side by side.

Each image stabbed at me, but pain dulled with repetition. Eventually, I almost grew used to it.

At last, the seventh day came. A message from him lit up my screen.

Sean: [Just landed. Heading to the train station now to buy a ticket and pick you up.]

A smile tugged at my lips. I had no intention of going back with him, but I did want to see him one last time.

So I stood, went to a salon, and asked to have my hair done. I wanted to look a little more presentable when I faced him again.

But halfway through, a wave of sickness hit me. I doubled over and suddenly vomited blood.

For reasons I couldn't explain, though my cancer was already advanced, my body seemed to be deteriorating faster than ever in these past few days.

The salon owner panicked. "Miss, call your family right now!"

Instinctively, I dialed Sean's number.

On the other end came a burst of chaotic noise—then a deafening crash.

Ginny's frantic voice cut through the line, "Cass! Sean's been in a car accident! His face is covered in blood! You have to come back now!"