Kimberly’s POV
In my unconscious state, I heard Cedric sobbing, his voice breaking as he pleaded: “Why won’t the fucking bleeding stop? Please, God, make it stop….”
“Kim, baby, please. Don’t do this. Just open your eyes.”
The harsh smell of hospital antiseptic cut through the fog in my mind.
I heard the doctor’s clinical tone explaining to Cedric: “She could have survived until spring, possibly longer with aggressive treatment.”
“But she informed us she couldn’t afford to continue and declined further intervention.”
“Her condition has progressed beyond medical control now. Additional treatment would only prolong her suffering.”
Cedric’s voice turned savage. “So you’re telling me my wife is dying and you’re just going to let it happen?”
Before the doctor could respond, Cedric erupted. “MY WIFE IS NOT DYING! FIX HER, GODDAMNIT! I don’t care what it costs or who you need to call. Either save her or get the fuck out and I’ll find someone who will!”
That day, Cedric tore through the hospital like a hurricane–threatening administrators, throwing furniture, demanding specialists.
He assembled teams of doctors from around the world, screaming that money was no object. He’d empty every account, sell every asset, sacrifice everything to keep me breathing.
But terminal illness doesn’t bow to wealth or threats.
Cedric wouldn’t listen to reason, insisting on flying me to Switzerland, America, anywhere that offered even a whisper of hope.
With his connections and checkbook, the hospital staff were powerless against his desperate rampage.
Until my best friend Olivia burst through the door clutching my living will.
Years earlier, I’d legally designated her as my medical proxy–the only person I trusted to respect my wishes when the time came.
I’d been painfully clear: if I ever became bedridden, unable to eat or drink independently, they should let me go with dignity.
She knew my greatest fear was prolonged suffering.
Olivia didn’t hesitate. She slapped Cedric hard across his right cheek, then immediately delivered another blow to his left.
“The first one is from Kim,” she snarled, jabbing her finger at his chest. “And the second is from her mother who thought you hung the fucking moon!”
“You’ve got millions now? WHERE WERE YOU THREE MONTHS AGO when she couldn’t afford her medication? Too busy with your little plaything while your wife was DYING ALONE?”
“It’s too goddamn late to play the devoted husband, Cedric! She’s leaving us because you FAILED HER!”
“You’re not taking her anywhere. She stays with me until the end.”
Cedric stared at the legal document in Olivia’s trembling hands. He slowly sank to his knees, his facade crumbling completely.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice stripped of all arrogance. “Olivia, I’m begging you. On my knees. Let me try to save her.”
“I’ll do anything. Take everything I own. Just let me try.”
His voice broke completely. “She can’t die. I can’t… I don’t know how to exist in a world without her.”
Olivia looked down at him with disgust. “Men like you don’t deserve women like her. She loved you when you had nothing, and you betrayed her when you had everything.”
“Get up. Your theatrics won’t work on me. You make me sick.”
She stepped around his kneeling form and sat beside my bed, taking my limp hand between both of hers.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” she started with forced brightness that immediately cracked. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“So this is your grand exit strategy, huh? Just checking out without saying goodbye?”
Though I couldn’t move, I could hear every word, My body felt impossibly heavy, like I was sinking into the mattress, being pulled down into comforting darkness.
“You always lectured me about proper goodbyes,” she continued, her attempt at humor dissolving into quiet sobs. “Remember when I ghosted that guy
from accounting and you made me call him back just to officially end things?”
“You haven’t said goodbye to your mom’s grave. You haven’t hugged me one last time.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And you haven’t seen that asshole over there completely fall apart. It’s actually quite satisfying. You should really see it, Kim. Wake up for that, at least?”
Tears escaped from beneath my closed eyelids, trickling down my temples,
The vital signs monitor suddenly beeped with increased activity. The doctor rushed in, urging Olivia to keep talking.
“She can hear you,” he said. “There are signs of response.”
Olivia didn’t leave my side for the next fourteen hours. She refused food and water, talking until her voice grew hoarse. She told stories from our college days, reminded me of promises we’d made, alternated between begging and threatening me to open my eyes.
“If you die without letting me say goodbye properly, I swear I’ll crash your funeral,” she said through tears that contradicted her laugh. “I’ll tell everyone about Barcelona. All of it. Even the part with the Spanish policeman.”
I’d been ready to surrender to the peaceful darkness that promised an end to pain. But her voice became an anchor, tethering me to the world.
Somewhere between her tears and Cedric’s broken pleas from the corner of the room, I found a final reserve of strength.
Near midnight, with tremendous effort, I forced my heavy eyelids open for what might be the last time.
