Chapter 1

I got my boyfriend by taking advantage of his lowest moment.

Years ago, Lucas Vance shattered his hand just to shield me, giving up his lifelong dream of being a concert pianist.

Yet over the years, all his tenderness evaporated, replaced by cold disgust. He called me calculating, pathetic, and desperate.

On the day I got my terminal diagnosis,

I hid behind a concrete pillar in the parking garage, watching him gently wipe away Vivian’s tears.

In that moment, I crumpled the medical report in my hand and suddenly felt at peace.

It was fine. I was going to die soon anyway. I could afford to be generous.

When Lucas called, I had just walked into the parking garage.

The paper declaring the countdown of my life was already a crumpled ball in my bag.

"I'm not coming home tonight."

His voice was frigid, dripping with ice.

Today was my birthday, but I swallowed the words before they could leave my mouth.

I cut the engine and noticed Lucas’s car parked not far away.

For a foolish second, I hoped he was just messing with me.

Then I stepped out and saw Vivian crying in the passenger seat, while Lucas spoke to her with soft, gentle eyes.

His usually cold, sharp face was bathed in warmth.

I hid behind the pillar for nearly twenty minutes, watching Vivian lean into his chest.

Then, they drove off together.

A violent coughing fit tore through my throat. I stepped out from behind the pillar and numbly made my way back to our apartment.

The last rays of sunset fell across the living room floor. I stared at the diagnosis and suddenly had an overwhelming urge to call Lucas.

The image of him wiping his ex’s tears felt like a blade slicing through my soul. I needed to see him.

I called him again and again, losing count of the rings before he finally picked up.

"It's my birthday today. Can't you come home?" I blurted out before he could speak.

Silence met me on the other end. The unspoken answer couldn't have been clearer.

"If you don't spend it with me now, you might never get another chance," I said, trying to sound playful and teasing.

Lucas let out a dry, mocking chuckle.

"Layla, are you really so sure that day will ever come?"

I had forgotten. I was dying.

I wouldn't live to see another birthday, so no, he would never have to worry about that day coming.

It was almost ten when Lucas finally came home.

He tossed a small bakery box onto the counter like he was tossing scraps to a stray.

"Happy now, drama queen? Let’s see what throwing a tantrum gets you."

I caught the faint scent clinging to his coat. It was a sweet, delicate perfume that didn't belong to him.

While he showered, I stared blankly at the wall. Was he out so late pouring out five years of pent-up longing and love to Vivian?

When Lucas got into bed, he rolled over, turning his back to me out of habit.

Body language never lies.

We had been together for five years, yet he seemed as uncomfortable with me as ever.

In the dark, my mind drifted back to our first time. Even that night, I had only gotten him because I took advantage of his heartbreak.

The day Vivian flew abroad, Lucas raced to the airport after her. He sat on an airport bench for hours before finally dragging his feet toward the exit, his slumped shoulders broadcasting his utter despair.

Worried sick, I trailed behind him the entire time.

When he finally turned around and saw me, all that grief curdled into pure rage. He screamed at me:

"Are you happy now? Teaming up with my parents to push me around, and now you’re here to laugh at me, aren't you?"

I didn't dare get too close. I looked at him timidly. "I was just worried about you."

In the end, he walked all the way home from the airport—hours through the cold night. And I stayed a few paces behind him, walking the entire way in silence.

Over the weeks that followed, Lucas drowned himself in alcohol every night. I was always there, cleaning up after him and taking care of him.

One night, I had a drink too. With trembling hands, I wrapped my arms around him, my knees shaking so badly I could barely stand.

"Do you throw yourself at every guy like this?" he sneered.