My Last Breath, His Eternal Regret

Henry’s face was ghost-pale, his chest bandages seeping through when he burst into the room.

“Olivia,” his voice was hoarse, deadly, “why are you talking about a grave?”

I slipped the envelope into my bag, my tone steady. “I went to the lawyer today. I had my will drafted.”

His grip clamped around my hand, desperate, trembling. “Stop it. Don’t talk like that. You’re not dying. As soon as Susan donates, you’ll recover. I’ll marry you. We’ll grow old together. You’ll live a long life—I swear it.”

I studied him in silence. Once, those eyes overflowed with devotion. Now they only reflected a desperation I no longer believed in.

I lowered my gaze. “How did you get hurt?”

He hesitated. “An accident.”

“Then why aren’t you resting in the hospital?”

“You didn’t answer my messages,” he muttered. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“I haven’t been looking at my phone.” My voice was calm, detached. “Your injuries are serious. Go back.”

Something flickered in his expression—unease, maybe—but he quickly smothered it. “Fine. I’ll recover fast. I’ll come back soon to stay with you.”

I only nodded, watching his figure disappear through the door.

That evening, I made a decision. If my days were numbered, I wanted at least one night to live as though I still belonged to the world.

The riverside restaurant shimmered with city lights, crystal glasses chiming like fragile hearts. I ordered more than I could ever finish—an indulgence illness had long denied me.

But the moment I set down the menu, my breath caught.

By the window, Henry sat across from Susan, cutting her steak with careful precision, the kind of tenderness that once belonged only to me.

A bitter laugh rose in my throat. So this was the man who had just sworn eternity at my bedside.

“Olivia?”

Susan spotted me, her eyes lighting up with mock surprise. She waved as if greeting an old friend. “What a coincidence! Come sit with us.”

“No need.” My smile was polite, my voice steady. “Enjoy your date.”

Henry pushed back his chair instantly, striding toward me. “Don’t misunderstand. This is just part of the agreement. Once we’re done, I’ll take you home.”

“Go back,” I replied evenly. “Don’t worry about me.”

My meal arrived, untouched. Against my will, my eyes drifted back to them.

He slid a velvet box across the table. Susan gasped as she opened it, revealing a diamond necklace that glittered like fire.

“Henry! How did you know I wanted this design?” Her voice trembled with joy.

“You paused on it in a magazine,” he said softly, fastening it around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, deliberate and intimate.

Pain ripped through me. Once, every gift he gave me felt like proof he could read my soul—like an open book, every desire laid bare before I ever spoke it. Now, he read only hers.

The restaurant lights dimmed. A three-tiered cake appeared, candles flickering like stars.

“Make a wish,” Henry whispered, voice honeyed, dripping with tenderness.

Susan clasped her hands, eyes closed, her face glowing in the candlelight. He looked at her as if she were the only light left in the world.

I clenched the napkin in my fist, nails biting through the fabric.

So it was true. All the devotion I once thought was mine alone… could so easily be given to someone else.