A/N: Another plot twist that I wrote myself.
After months of chemotherapy and a scary near-death experience, Augustus Waters had beaten his cancer. The once predetermined war had been tipped on it's head. The government had won. And here's where my story changes. For better or worse, I don't know. I just know he wasn't there when the grenade blew. He had said 'okay', he promised me an always. But he broke his vow, and I was left lying in the shards of a broken love. Augustus Waters had left me. Me, his Hazel Grace. Two weeks after he was given the all-clear, the doctors positive the cancer wouldn't come back a third time, he said it was working. He even had the nerve to use the whole 'It's not you, it's me' speech. He said a whole lot of nothingness but I knew the real reason for his departure. Mum and Dad tried to convince me chemo changes people, but that wasn't it. No, Augustus Waters had finally discovered that he didn't love me. But then again, who could? No one can love a grenade. So he took his chance and ran as far as he could from the explosive that was the girl that once loved him and gave her virginity to him before the time ran out. And the time did run out. The cancer won this war going on inside of me. Phalanxafor stopped working. My lungs failed. I couldn't stop it. I died 16 days after Augustus Waters broke it off. The doctors said it was my cancer that killed me but it was actually a broken heart. As I was fading in my bed, Bluie abandoned beside me, my phone started playing the Hectic Glow's latest single. Augustus Waters' picture lights up the dark as the call comes in. I reached over and pressed the green ANSWER button. His voice, clear and charismatic, echoes out of the speaker. Augustus Waters pleads with me, begs me to forgive him for all that he's done, cries that he loves me and needs me to love him back. He's so busy talking over me that he can't hear my struggled breathing and Dad getting the oxygen tanks and Mum sobbing quietly. I move the cell closer to my face and pant into the microphone. Augustus Waters said my name, asked why I was breathing like a laboured dog. But I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him because I died. I died listening to the soothing voice that I loved, lost, loathed and loved again. My Gus never knew how much I still loved him.
