Three Months Left to Unlove You

These days, Wade Cox, who rarely updated his social media, became the one dominating everyone's feeds. He and Cecilia Hart were photographed in all sorts of picturesque cafes, atmospheric streets, cake shops, and artisanal workshops.

For someone who used to be so quiet and private, he now wrote captions that poured his absolute heart and soul out, dripping with raw emotion. "Even though we've already done all 100 things one must do while one's in love before, my baby forgot, so I'll accompany her to relive them once more. Words can't describe how happy I am to get her back. As long as it is her wish, even if it kills me, I will fulfill it for her."

I had wanted to do all of these things with Wade for the longest time. Yet, every time I brought them up, he'd dismiss me as childish, claim he had no time, and reject me without exception. As it turned out, he didn't hate the activities; he just hated me.

A tearing pain ripped through my heart. With trembling hands, I tried to call Wade to demand an explanation, but before I could dial, his call came through. "Cecilia wrote the captions and took the photos. I'm only going along with it for the sake of her condition. Cecilia wouldn't let me hide the posts from anyone, so I had no choice but to let you see them.

"I knew you'd be upset. Please don't be mad at me, Stella. I love you. I always have," he explained.

He claimed it was an act, but the joy etched between his brows and the way he looked at Cecilia as if she were his entire world were all devastatingly real. It couldn't be faked. In contrast, his empty promises of love for me sounded unbelievably cheap.

I gasped for air as the machines connected to my body beeped loudly. The crushing weight of betrayal, fear, and agony had me spiraling toward a breakdown. Sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling down and blending with the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.

"Wade…" I choked out. "My heart hurts. It hurts so much!"

I thought his heart would ache for me, but instead of comfort, I was met with immediate skepticism. "How could that be? Didn't you already have your heart transplant?"

Then, as if something had occurred to him, he chided, "Drop the act, Stella! Now isn't the time to be jealous."

My breath caught for a split second, and I argued, "I'm not jealous! I'm seriously in pain. Can you please just come over?"

Yet, the only response I received was Cecilia's voice. "Get your ass over here, darling! I can't reach my back in the shower. Help me out."

Wade's footsteps sounded, and the sound of running water gradually became clearer.

I nearly broke down. Clutching my chest to keep myself from being consumed by the pain, I demanded, "Are you seriously going to help her bathe? What do you take me for, Wade?"

Wade's tone was calm, yet laced with annoyance. "It's all just an act. Quit being jealous, okay? Three days out of the three months are already behind us. It'll all be over in 89 days. So, just wait for me patiently."

He hung up on me. No matter how many times I dialed, I could no longer get through. Then, a new post appeared on his social media.

Wade's soaking wet shirt clung to his abs, and a delicate, slender hand with red-painted nails had slipped through his shirt, resting firmly against his chest. "My baby girl said I'm soft to the touch."

My breath caught in my throat, triggering a relentless coughing fit. Half a minute later, a sharp metallic taste flooded my mouth. I coughed up a mouthful of blood, spraying it across the white blanket, where it bloomed into a vivid stain.

My hand trembled as I reached out to touch it, but everything before my eyes dissolved into a blur. In the end, darkness closed in, and I sank into unconsciousness.