My professor thought three little words would reveal something about our families. She had no idea those words were about to cost me the only family I had left.
Chapter 2
The next day, I woke with no memory of our conversation.
That terrified me more than the cancer.
A reminder on my phone read: TWO DAYS UNTIL ZURICH.
Under it, another said: GARDEN.
So I went downstairs and met the landscapers.
For years, the field behind the house had been filled with lavender because, when I was eleven, I had told Julian I wished we lived somewhere that smelled beautiful all summer. He had planted half an acre.
Now I ordered it removed.
In its place, I had young cherry blossom trees planted because Victoria loved cherry blossoms. It seemed right that the house should change with his life.
That afternoon, I met Tristan at a quiet restaurant near Lake Michigan.
I told him everything.
Not the emotional history with Julian. Just the diagnosis, Switzerland, and the fact that our supposed relationship had been mostly theater.
Tristan listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he leaned back slowly. “Does Julian know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“My memory isn’t reliable anymore.”
His expression softened.
“Please don’t tell him.”
Tristan studied me for a moment, then nodded. “All right.”
I slid a legal envelope across the table.
He opened it and stared.
“Hazel, this transfers your shares in Vance Group.”
“My parents left them to me.”
“I know what they are.”
“I have a separate trust. My treatment is covered.”
He pushed the papers back. “Those shares could be worth tens of millions.”
“They don’t matter where I’m going.”
“And where exactly do you think you’re going?”
I looked out at the gray water beyond the window.
“I don’t know.”
His anger disappeared.
“Give these to Julian after the wedding,” I said. “Not before. I don’t want to ruin anything.”
“You really think your existence ruins things?”
I smiled faintly. “Sometimes people tell you what place you have in their life. Eventually, you should believe them.”
I returned to the estate and found an international envelope waiting for me. Inside was a Swiss SIM card and instructions from the clinic.
For the first time in months, I felt relief.
The night before the wedding, Julian finally came home.
I was coughing so violently in my bedroom that I didn’t hear him approach until the door opened.
My hand flew toward the medicine bottle. I swallowed too quickly, choked, and spat dark red fluid onto the carpet.
Julian froze.
The medicine tablets scattered among the blood.
For one second, terror flashed across his face.
Then it vanished.
His mouth twisted bitterly.
“I thought you’d grown out of this.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Faking an illness now?”
The room went silent except for my breathing.
I had imagined a thousand versions of him discovering the truth.
In none of them had he laughed.
So I forced my mouth into a smile.
“You caught me.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Vitamins,” I whispered. “And tomato juice.”
He looked at my body, thinner than it had been six months earlier.
“Is no one feeding you?”
“I’m fine.”
His gaze moved around the nearly empty room.
“Where is everything?”
I turned away.
“You’re getting married tomorrow. Clearing out old things makes room for new ones.”
Something about that answer angered him.
“You’ve been saying strange things lately.”
“I hope you and Victoria have a wonderful life,” I continued. “A long marriage. Children, if you want them. Everything you’ve worked for.”
His jaw tightened.
“Is that really all you have to say?”
I didn’t understand.
Maybe once I would have studied his face, searching for the correct answer. But illness had stripped me of the energy for guessing games.
“I hope you have a beautiful wedding, Julian.”
I walked past him.
The next morning, the estate looked like a movie set. Black cars lined the circular drive. Reporters waited beyond the gates. Guests arrived in gowns and tailored suits.
I stepped into the hall wearing jeans, a sweater, and my traveling coat.
Julian was already dressed in his tuxedo.
He stared at me.
“That’s what you’re wearing?”
“I—”
“Julian!” someone called from downstairs. “Cars are ready.”
He took one step toward me.
“Change into something decent before you come.”
I nodded because explaining would take too long.
He walked downstairs.
An older guest laughed. “Why does the groom look like he’s heading to court instead of a wedding?”
Everyone laughed except Julian.
I returned to my room and picked up the framed photograph of my parents.
“Mom. Dad.”
My voice broke.
“He’s getting married today.”
I touched my mother’s face through the glass.
“I think you’d like Victoria.”
Then I whispered the truth I had told no one.
“I’m coming with you now. Whatever happens.”
From the window, I watched Julian’s car disappear.
Twenty minutes later, I left for the airport.
As we drove downtown, enormous screens showed live coverage of the Vance wedding.
Then Tristan sent me a photograph.
I nearly dropped my phone.
The ceremony hall was filled with lavender.
Purple flowers cascaded from the ceiling. The tables glowed beneath violet crystal lights. Even Victoria’s ring contained a rare purple diamond.
It looked almost exactly like the wedding I had described to Julian.
For one reckless second, my heart forgot everything.
Then I locked the screen.
Coincidence, I told myself.
Nothing more.
At the gate, a flight attendant handed passengers small boxes of wedding candy stamped with Julian and Victoria’s initials.
“Mr. Vance arranged them for travelers throughout the city,” she said cheerfully.
I opened one.
Strawberry.
The same candy Julian had crossed Chicago in a snowstorm to find when I was eight.
I laughed once, though tears filled my eyes.
Then I typed one final message.
Julian, I was young and confused, and I made things difficult for you. I’m leaving now. Please forget about me. I hope you’re happy.
I sent it.
Then I removed my American SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash.
As the plane rose over Chicago, I pressed my forehead to the window.
I had spent years loving Julian.
Now I intended to learn how to live without him.
