𝐀 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞.
Vivian Rae has only a year to live. Instead of spending his remaining time with the woman he swore to love until his last breath, he makes an unexpected request: he asks his doctor to be his f...
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I could feel the adrenaline still coursing through my veins while way back from the tournament.
The victory hadn’t brought the satisfaction I’d hoped for. Instead, a nagging irritation tugged at the back of my mind, refusing to let me savor the win.
The moment my father told me what happened to Amara, everything else blurred into the background. I was livid. How could she not have told me?
I didn’t even bother to knock when I arrived at her cabin. My fist pounded against the door until she opened it, her expression unreadable. But I was too angry to care.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” I demanded, pushing past her and into the small, cozy space I had come to know too well. “You were harassed, Amara! And I had to hear about it from my father?”
Amara’s eyes flashed with anger, her jaw tightening as she closed the door behind me.
“You should’ve told me you were leaving for the tournament,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “But you didn’t, did you?”
“Are you serious right now?” I snapped, turning to face her. “You’re mad because I didn’t tell you about the tournament? You could’ve been hurt, Amara!”
“And you think that’s your business because-?” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re nothing, Vivian. Nothing. So why should you care?”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I masked the hurt with a smirk, a defense mechanism I had perfected over the years. “Nothing, huh? I thought we were friends at least.”
“Friends?” she scoffed, her eyes narrowing as she glared at me. “You’re just a patient, Vivian. A patient who’ll die in a month or so. That’s all this is.”
Her cold, detached tone sliced through me, and for a moment, I couldn’t find the words to respond.
The anger, the frustration, all of it evaporated, leaving only a hollow ache in its place. I stared at her, searching for something in her expression that would soften the blow, but there was nothing. Just that icy resolve.
“Right,” I said finally, my voice low and bitter. “Just a patient.”
I turned on my heel, heading for the door without another word. I could feel her eyes on my back, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
Outside the rain pounded against the pavement, mirroring the turmoil inside me.
"Vivian" I could still hear her voice, faintly calling my name, but I refused to turn back. My fists clenched, knuckles white as I stormed down the street, the cold rain soaking me to the bone.
“Vivian, wait!” Amara’s voice echoed through the downpour, but I couldn’t face her—not after what she said.
The words stung like daggers: just a patient who’ll die in a month or so.
I could feel them twisting in my chest, the hurt deeper than I’d expected. I thought we were more than that.
Friends, maybe even something more, a special bond, but I was wrong. I was nothing to her, just another dead man walking.
The rain made it hard to see, but I kept walking, my mind racing with anger, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal. I knew I wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, but I didn’t expect her to cut me down like that. Not Amara.
Suddenly, I heard her footsteps, quickening as she caught up to me. I could see her figure in the corner of my eye, drenched, her hair plastered to her face. She didn’t care about the rain, she just wanted to reach me.
“Vivian, I’m sorry!” she shouted, her voice almost lost in the storm.
I stopped, the sound of her voice pulling me back. She was right behind me, her hand grabbing my arm. Her touch was warm despite the cold rain, and for a moment, I wanted to pull her close, let her warmth melt away the ice forming around my heart.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally asked, my voice barely audible over the rain.
I was still angry, but there was something else—something vulnerable I didn’t want to show her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice soft, pleading. “And I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it.”
I turned to face her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. She looked so small, so fragile in the rain, and all the anger I felt began to melt away. She was soaked to the bone, shivering slightly, but she didn’t let go of my arm.
“You think I don’t care?” I asked, my voice rough with emotion.
She didn’t answer, but the guilt in her eyes told me everything. I sighed, my heart heavy as I stepped closer to her, my hands finding her shoulders.
“Amara,” I whispered, my voice softer now, “You mean a lot to me. You always have. I'll always be grateful to you”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, we just stood there, the rain washing away everything but the truth between us.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, I pulled her closer, my hands sliding down to her waist. She looked up at me, her eyes full of unspoken words, and I could see the pain and longing mirrored in her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears mixing with the rain. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I shook my head, my thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have left like that.”
She smiled weakly, her hands resting on my chest as she leaned into me. I could feel her heartbeat, quick and erratic, matching the frantic beat of my own.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop, and it was just the two of us, standing in the rain, clinging to each other like we were all that mattered.
But then, just as I opened my mouth to say something—anything—my vision started to blur.
The world spun around me, and before I could make sense of what was happening, everything went dark. The last thing I felt was Amara’s arms tightening around me as I collapsed into her, the rain washing over us both.
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AUTHORS'S NOTE: Who do you like more, Amara or Vani?
