Goodbye to the Love I Lost Eight Years Ago

When chemotherapy became too much to bear, I would clutch the old photo of Liam and me until my fingers cramped. Some nights, that picture was the only thing that kept me from giving up.

I went through more surgeries than I could count, some minor, some so dangerous Mom signed the consent forms with shaking hands. More than once, I was rushed into the ICU and almost did not wake up again.

Every time, Mom stood beside my bed and shouted herself hoarse.

“Claire, have you forgotten? You said you were going to survive. You said you’d get better, go overseas, and explain everything to Liam yourself.

“You promised me. When you were well enough, you said you’d let me take you to find him. If you die now, you’ll never see him again.”

It was my mother’s voice, calling Liam’s name again and again, that pulled me back from the edge more times than I could count.

In the end, I still lost.

And Liam had a new life now. He was about to get married.

But in the last stretch of time I had left, I still wanted to be near him, even if only for a little while.

That was why, after I heard he had come home, I forced myself to leave the hospital, even though the doctor had already made it clear. Going home no longer meant recovering. It only meant waiting for what came next.

I did not expect Liam to show up at my house right after his mother left.

When I woke from a shallow, exhausted sleep, I heard his voice outside my bedroom.

For a moment, I thought I had imagined it.

Eight years ago, Liam hated me to the bone.

He had once stood outside my house for three days and three nights, waiting for me to come out so he could grab me by the throat and ask why I had betrayed him.

When I cried and told him I did not love him anymore, he punched through the glass window in the stairwell.

He never laid a hand on me that day.

But from then on, he despised me completely.

If he saw me in the hallway, he turned around and walked the other way. Even passing my front door made his expression darken with disgust.

He stopped going to the little corner store we used to visit together. He hated me so much that whenever someone mentioned my name, his face would go cold.

“Why are you bringing up Claire?” he would snap. “Maybe you can stand her. I can’t.”

On the day he left for the airport, I stood in the pouring rain just to see him one last time.

When he saw me, he only sneered.

Then he threw the matching rings we had bought together at my feet, along with the phone that held every photo of us.

The screen shattered against the pavement.

He left without looking back.

Yet now, eight years later, he had come to my house on his own.

A moment later, through the crack in the bedroom door, I understood why.

Liam was holding his fiancée’s hand.

“Mrs. Winters,” he said, his voice flat and controlled, “are you still angry about what happened eight years ago? Is that why you don’t want Claire to help us choose a wedding planner and pick out rings?

“I stopped loving Claire a long time ago. I’m over it. Besides, we grew up together. Even if we couldn’t be lovers, there’s no reason we can’t be friends.”

As soon as he finished, the woman beside him spoke with a gentle smile.

“Mrs. Winters, Liam has already told me everything about him and Claire. Yes, Claire cheated eight years ago, but they were young. Things like that never happen for only one reason. I’m sure Liam had his flaws too.

“And honestly, I should thank Claire. If she hadn’t let Liam go, I never would have met such a wonderful man.

“So there’s really no need to hold on to what happened back then. Besides, I was the one who suggested asking Claire to help with the wedding planner. Liam and I haven’t been back in eight years, so we don’t really know how things are done here anymore. And if we leave it to the older generation…”

She paused, then smiled as if she had said something charming.

“The taste level might be a little hard for me to handle.”