Death Is Where You’re Missing

Roman held Blake’s hand and turned to leave. She was still pleading on my behalf.

But when she glanced back, I caught the look in her eyes. The pity was just an act. Beneath it was nothing but gloating and malice.

I picked up the crumpled medical report from the floor. A sharp pain suddenly shot through my lower back.

Dizziness washed over me. I pressed against the wall and inched toward the bed. By the time I reached it, I had no strength left.

I stared at the words “kidney disease” on the paper, then instinctively placed my hand over the source of my pain.

Beneath my fingertips, I felt a jagged, uneven scar. Underneath it, a healthy kidney was missing.

Roman had a scar just like mine.

Five years ago, he had grown weaker by the day as he waited endlessly for a donor. He had grown so thin that he was nothing but skin and bones.

Death loomed closer each day. In the end, I gave him my kidney.

Losing one kidney had not killed me. But the complications that followed were a different story.

Without money, I could not afford my medication. I kept running out and missing doses, which caused me to miss my best chance at recovery.

Over time, my body weakened. My immune system became so fragile that even a gust of wind could make me sick.

The stabbing pain in my lower back kept me awake night after night. Weakness and fatigue had long become my everyday reality.

I was facing the same fate Roman once did, only mine was even worse.

There was no kidney donor for me. I had no money for treatment. And there would never be someone who would do for me what I had done for him.

I knew it then. My time was almost up.

After leaving the hospital, I returned to the basement I had rented.

It was dark and damp. The air was heavy and stale with no windows to let in even the smallest breeze. However, this was all I could afford.

This was where Roman and I had lived back then. No matter how terrible the conditions were, they could not take away the sweetness of our love.

When the doctor told me my kidney was a match for his, I felt relieved.

As long as he lived, nothing else mattered.

So, I found an excuse to start a fight. I said things so cruel that even I was shaken by my own words.

Roman and I had been together for so long that we knew each other better than anyone else. That also meant I knew exactly what would break him. I knew how to make him lose all hope in me.

Otherwise, with the way he loved me, he would never have agreed to take my kidney.

I believed he was just like me. He would rather die than see me suffer.

To save him, I had no choice but to harden my heart and make him believe I had had enough of him.

I told him he was a useless cripple who could never give me the life I wanted.

I could still picture that day as if it had just happened.

He had always been strong and optimistic. No matter how close he came to his death, he never lost hope. But that day, for the first time, he broke down.

He covered his face and sobbed uncontrollably. He fell to his knees and begged me. With his shaky voice, he swore he would recover. I just needed to give him more time.

I could not say a word. I knew if I did, I would break down too.

That day, I picked up my small suitcase and left without looking back. I kept walking faster, as if speeding up could drown out the sound of his agonized cries.

I became the woman who abandoned the man I loved for money. I gave up on the one person I cherished most in exchange for his chance to live.

After the surgery, I returned to the tiny basement that held every memory of us.

I sat there in silence while waiting for death to come for me once again.

I never thought I would see Roman again.