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One Kiss for My Last Month
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One Kiss for My Last Month

After choosing his unfaithful father to spare his mother from a life of suffering, the protagonist now works in a grueling fish market. Five years later, his mother returns, offering him a chance at wealth through a marriage to the Cooper family heir if he kneels before her. Despite his stained clothes and the stench of his labor, he refuses to beg. With only one month left to live, he makes a daring proposal: he will go, but only if she grants him a single kiss first.
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Chapter 2

No, it had to be a hallucination or just someone with the same name.

Back when we were together, he as nothing more than an ordinary medical student. There was no way he could be a heir of the Cooper family.

I leaned back against the seat, my mind buzzing.

The car glided smoothly through the gates of a luxurious hillside estate.

By the time my mother led me into the grand hall, quite a crowd had already gathered inside.

The soft melody of a piano drifted through the air.

At a glance, I recognized several familiar faces.

They were the same relatives who mocked my mother when she fell on hard times in my previous life, some of whom had even kicked her while she was down.

Now, every one of them hovered around her with flattering smiles, eager to win her favor.

The moment their eyes landed on my fish-scented hoodie, they made no effort to hide the contempt and ridicule in their expressions.

My eldest aunt pinched her nose and dramatically took two steps back.

“Wendy, is this the daughter who chose to follow that gambling-addict father of hers?

“She smells so bad it’s enough to make someone pass out.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think some homeless kid had wandered in off the street.”

My mother shot me a sidelong glance.

I knew exactly what she wanted to see on my face.

Inferiority.

Shame.

Maybe even tearful regret for not choosing her all those years ago.

Since that was what she wanted, I decided to play along.

I looked around awkwardly, like a country bumpkin completely out of place, then shuffled a little closer to my aunt.

She nearly jumped out of her skin and hurried backward.

“Go away, go away! You’re filthy! Don’t touch my clothes! You can’t afford to pay for them!”

My mother watched my act, and the disgust in her eyes deepened.

She looked away, the corner of her mouth curling upward in satisfaction, as though she had finally gotten her revenge.

“Take her upstairs.”

After giving the order to a nearby maid, my mother turned and rejoined the guests.

I was left alone in a spacious guest room on the second floor.

The maid pointed to a formal dress laid neatly on the bed and said expressionlessly, “Ms. Sharp asked you to clean yourself up and change into fresh clothes.”

Once the door closed behind her, I let out a long breath.

I walked over to the mirror and pulled off my hoodie.

My skin was covered in scars of all shapes and sizes.

They were the marks left behind by five years of hardship, following my worthless father through the lowest corners of life.

Whenever he got drunk, he would hit me, and all I could do was endure it.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Warm water streamed over my exhausted body, washing away the lingering smell of fish.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain stabbed deep inside my head.

I doubled over in agony, gripping the edge of the sink with both hands.

My vision began to blur.

A strong metallic taste rose from the back of my throat.

I opened my mouth, and a mouthful of blood splattered into the basin.

I gasped for air and instinctively turned on the faucet.

The blood was quickly washed away without a trace.

I lifted my head and looked at my pale reflection in the mirror, forcing a strained smile.

There wasn't much time left, but I still had to hold on a little longer.

As long as my mother was doing well, it didn't matter if I rotted in the mud.

Just as I was steadying my breathing, a knock sounded from outside the door.

I quickly wiped the cold sweat from the corners of my mouth.

Then I slipped into the dress, hurried to the door, and pulled it open.

A little girl in a princess dress stood outside.

She looked about seven or eight years old, delicate as a doll.

She tilted her head back and studied me for quite a while.

“Miss, you're really pretty, but you look so weak.”

I crouched down to her eye level and answered with a gentle smile, “I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten yet. Why did you wander over here all by yourself?”

Instead of answering, she tilted her head curiously.

“What’s your relationship with Wendy? I saw her bring you in earlier.”

I lowered my eyes, my voice soft.

“I’m Wendy’s daughter.”

The little girl blinked, then suddenly broke into a smile.

“I’m Wendy’s daughter too!”

My heart skipped a beat.

A dull ache spread through my chest, growing heavier with every passing second.

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