As Rex’s question hung in the air, a profound image surfaced in my mind—a face that bore a striking resemblance to Xavier’s but belonged to a little boy. This child’s face, though similar, was marked by an innocence and vulnerability that was distinctly different from Xavier's. It was an evocative reminder of the past and present intertwining in my life.

My parents had passed away when I was still very young, leaving a void that seemed insurmountable. Growing up without their guiding presence, I had found solace in Xavier, who entered my life during junior high. For many years, he had been my anchor, my confidant and my closest companion, filling the gap left by my parents. He was, without a doubt, the most significant person in the first half of my life.

But now, as I faced the reality of my dwindling time, the boy’s face reminded me of someone even more precious—someone who had become the center of my world. This child, who was the embodiment of my love and hope, was my greatest treasure. Despite the devastating news from the doctor, who had given me only three months left to live, my love for this child was boundless and unwavering.

Looking into Xavier’s hopeful eyes, I saw not just the man who had been my rock but also the man who had to share the remaining moments of my life with this boy. I knew the significance of my answer extended beyond the mere words. With a deep breath, I nodded and replied, “Of course.”

The crowd’s response was immediate and vibrant; cheers and laughter erupted around us, filling the room with a celebratory energy. Xavier let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing as his smile broadened, conveying both gratitude and comfort.

In the final round, the bottle pointed to Becca. Before the question could even be asked, Becca swiftly declared, “I’ll go with Dare.”

The dare was to hug someone of the opposite sex sitting next to you. As soon as the dare was announced, Xavier’s expression darkened.

“That’s not appropriate; let’s change it,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“What’s inappropriate about it?” Becca shot a quick glance at Xavier before promptly hugging a male classmate seated beside her.

Amid the cheers, Xavier’s face turned completely black.

After the gathering ended and we returned home, Xavier sat in the living room, staring blankly at his phone.

Curious, I picked up his phone and went to Becca’s X. As expected, she had just posted a minute ago, accompanied by a photo of herself hugging her knees and crying.

[Left out again. Waiting all day for my birthday isn’t worth comparing to the alumni party with his first love.]

The post was filled with grievance, brokenness, but also immense resentment. Watching Xavier stare at his phone for a long time, I felt as if my heart had been punctured by a huge hole. Throughout the time, calls kept coming in, but Xavier ignored them all.

Xavier was distracted all night and as it neared midnight, he couldn't stay put any longer. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Something’s come up at the company. It’s urgent and they need me. Go to sleep. Don’t wait up for me.”

 I gazed at Xavier, the man I had loved for ten years. Even now, my feelings had not wavered. Love, I realized, is like a heartbeat—constant and enduring until it stops.

“Xavier, did you forget what day today is?” I asked softly.

The calendar in the living room clearly displayed the date: May 20th. Ten years ago today, Xavier had confessed his love to me and we had officially become a couple. Every year since then had been our anniversary—except for the three years I had been away.

Xavier’s face fell as he remembered. A look of guilt flashed across his eyes as he reached out to touch my face. “Silvia, I—”

Just then, the phone rang again, snapping Xavier back to reality. “I’ve got to go,” he said abruptly. Without another word, he left. 

An hour later, a new update appeared on Becca’s X feed: [He’s back.]

The post included a photo of Becca wearing a birthday hat, her eyes closed in a wistful, childlike gesture as she made a wish over a small cake. The image was crafted to evoke a sense of innocence and longing. But what struck me most was the background detail—a hand with a distinctive brown mole on the thumb, a feature I recognized all too well.

Those short words shattered all my psychological defenses. I curled up on the sofa, hugging a pair of teddy bear, burying my head in them. These bears, which Xavier and I had bought together seven years ago, were now threadbare and faded, their once-vibrant colors dulled by time.

My mind drifted back to earlier days. I remembered Xavier standing before me, his ears flushed with a deep red, as he nervously yet earnestly declared, “Silvia, I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?” At twenty-two, he was brimming with youthful confidence and an eagerness to share his feelings with the world.

I also recalled the more solemn moment when he was twenty-six, his hands trembling slightly as he placed a ring on my finger. With a look of nervous anticipation, he asked, “Silvia, will you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me?”

It was the seventh New Year's Eve we had spent together. The countdown to midnight was filled with laughter and hope, but the New Year brought an unexpected and devastating blow. Shortly after the celebrations, I received a notification from the hospital that would change everything: I was in the final stage of cancer. To compound the shock, the report also revealed that I was two months pregnant.

As I sat in disbelief, a torrent of sweet memories from the past three years washed over me. The love we had shared, once so vibrant and full of promise, now seemed cruelly separated by fate’s merciless hand.

Suddenly, a sharp, agonizing pain gripped my body. It was accompanied by severe coughing fits that left me gasping for breath. I stumbled to the bathroom, doubled over the toilet as I coughed up large amounts of blood. The physical pain mirrored the emotional turmoil inside me and I doubted whether I could endure the three months that were left. Yet, despite the overwhelming sense of dread, there were still things I needed to address and resolve.

Just as I was sinking into despair, my phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts. It was Dr. Theron Watts, the specialist overseeing my treatment.

“Hi, I just wanna hear from you. Kaden and I are doing well here. How about you? do you feel any discomfort or new symptoms?” He started. “I also want to tell you that test results will be out soon. Once we have them, I’ll bring Kaden back to you.”

Theron had been following a research project abroad that specialized in my illness and the results would be out soon. As expected, I would be the first test subject. If the experiment succeeded, I could survive and offer hope to many others with the same condition. If it fails, it will provide valuable data for medical research. It would be benefited either way.

“I’m fine. I can last another two months,” I said, wiping the blood from my mouth.

“And how are things between you and him?” Theron’s tone shifted, becoming more serious.

I fell silent. I wanted to say things were bad—very bad—but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. After a moment of observing my silence, Theron spoke again.

“Silvia, just let me come get you. Whether the treatment succeeds or not, at least Kaden and I will stay with you.”

I sighed. “Theron, you’re already taking care of Kaden and that’s more than I could ask for. I don’t want to add to your burdens. I’ll make my way back once I’ve said my goodbyes to Xavier.”

If I had known that Becca was with Xavier, I might not have come back. It was useless to regret my decision now, but it wasn’t just about the ten years of feelings between Xavier and me. We also had a child I had kept from him. As they say, regret only comes after loss. Understanding my refusal, Theron fell silent. With no further response from the other end, I ended the call and eventually fell asleep.

I’m not sure how long I slept, but I woke up to the sound of Xavier. He appeared to have been drinking; he was disheveled and drunk, collapsing onto the sofa as soon as he entered. His clothes were rumpled and his shoes were strewn haphazardly.

I was puzzled. Just last night, Xavier left the house impeccably dressed, looking every bit the composed professional. How could he have turned into such a mess in a single night?  Xavier kept his eyes closed, mumbling my name repeatedly and eventually, this grown man started to cry.

I didn’t know what was wrong with Xavier, but seeing him like this broke my heart. He was a mess, disheveled and drunk, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a vulnerable, pitiful state. My instincts urged me to move closer and comfort him, to hold him and tell him everything would be okay. But as I reached out, my hands passed right through his body, as though he were nothing more than a mirage. I stared in disbelief, my fingers meeting only the cold, empty air where his solid form should have been.

I tried again, desperately, but the same sensation of emptiness greeted me. It wasn’t just Xavier who felt intangible; everything around me seemed to have lost its physical presence. I reached out to touch the sofa, the walls, the scattered shoes on the floor, but each time, my hands passed through them as if they were mere illusions. Panic surged through me. My mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. Was this some sort of cruel trick?

My cries went unheard. Xavier, lost in his own world of despair, remained oblivious to my presence. His eyes were tightly shut, his body trembling as he wept, completely unaware of my desperate attempts to reach him.

Then, something caught my eye. The calendar on the living room wall, which had been clearly marked as May 20th just hours before, now showed June 20th. A full month had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. How could this be? How had time slipped away so quickly while I was asleep for a night?

The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, causing a sharp pain to erupt in my head. My head was spinning as if it had been smashed by a thousand pounds of bricks. Unanswered questions emerged one by one, each one more confusing than the last. I couldn't make sense of it. My world had shifted in ways I couldn't comprehend and I was left grappling with a sense of helplessness and disorientation.

Xavier suddenly got up, frenziedly smashing things until the house was in ruins. His eyes were bloodshot as he shouted, “Silvia, you thought you could get away? You eloped with another man and caused Becca so much suffering. Even if you're dead, I'll get you back!”

Xavier's words struck like a lightning bolt in my mind. Who did I elope with? How did I cause Becca so much suffering? Why would he say that? Am I really dead?