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I Died The Day He Won The Championship Novel Cover

I Died The Day He Won The Championship

After a decade of devotion to Julian, a world-renowned chess grandmaster, his partner realizes that his career goals will always supersede their relationship. Despite her loyalty, Julian refuses to commit to marriage, strictly adhering to a rigid professional timeline. As he competes for the ultimate Grand Slam title, she quietly prepares for her final departure. While Julian celebrates his global victory, she signs her own euthanasia consent form, ending her suffering in silence.
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Chapter 3

With Julian out of the house, I started to let loose in the apartment.

I turned the stereo up to full volume and opened a bottle of red wine I had been hiding for a long time.

Before, I never dared to be myself, always catering to Julian's preference for quiet.

But now, in the little time I had left, I was going to enjoy my own life.

Before heading to the hospice, I decided to organize this home I had lived in for ten years one last time.

Julian's chess manuals and trophies took up most of the space.

In the corner of the desk lay the half-written diary where I used to record our sweet moments together.

Thinking about why it was abandoned, I gave a bitter smile.

At the time, Julian was climbing the world rankings, training more than fifteen hours a day, leaving no time for me.

Since I had nothing better to do, I started keeping a diary to preserve our memories, writing down every anniversary, every small gesture of affection.

When I showed it to him, full of anticipation, secretly hoping he'd be touched by my efforts to commemorate our relationship.

He just flipped through a few pages and pushed it away coldly.

"Ava, I don't understand why you need to document every trivial moment."

"This kind of sentimental ritual is just a waste of time that could be spent on something productive., like helping me organize my match recordings."

I wanted to argue, to ask him why he would belittle me like that.

But seeing the disdain in his eyes, I couldn't speak.

After holding it in for a long time, a surge of jealousy I didn't know I had rose up in me, and I asked, "Would you say the same thing if Chloe had written it?"

His voice grew even colder, like an arctic wind.

"A game of intellect like chess is elegant and complex."

"She wouldn't waste her time on something so childish."

Yes, only I was so pathetic and childish. Thinking a love diary could move him.

After that, I never picked up the pen again.

So now, when my memory was failing me, I realized I had nothing left to help me remember more of the love we once shared.

Besides that, there was a lot more I needed to deal with.

The house was filled with traces of my life built around Julian.

His tournament schedule was stuck to the refrigerator.

His favorite Blue Mountain coffee beans sat on the coffee table.

The bookshelf was neatly lined with all the chess magazines I had subscribed to for him.

On the wall hung our only photo together, taken at an awards ceremony.

In that photo, Julian was looking at the camera, and I was looking at him.

Just like every single day for the past ten years.

I started throwing these things away, one by one.

The coffee beans went into the trash, the magazines into the recycling bin.

I even tore that photo in half.

I kept Julian's part and threw my own away.

The closet in the bedroom needed to be reorganized.

Most of my clothes were bought to suit Julian's occasions.

An elegant little black dress, suitable for award ceremonies.

A conservative suit, suitable for family gatherings.

And the simple jeans I wore at home, always ready to be at his beck and call.

Every piece of clothing told the story of how my life revolved around his.

Chloe was completely different from me.

She could discuss chess games with Julian, analyze strategies.

She sat in the VIP section at every important match.

The cameras always captured their intimate interactions.

In moments like that, I even had to admit they were a perfect match.

Intellectually matched, kindred spirits.

That seemed more like a real partnership.

After packing everything up, I dragged my suitcase to the door.

I took one last look back, then headed for the hospital.

As the car drove out of the complex, my phone started vibrating.

It was Julian's agent, a man named Leo.

[Ava, did you follow up on the Sports Illustrated interview for tomorrow?]

A message from Julian followed.

[Why is your phone off? My agent can't reach you.]

I didn't know how to tell him that by the time he returned, I would no longer be in this world.

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