I couldn’t forget the cocky look on his face, the way the wind played with his hair, or how just having him by my side gave me the kind of confidence I’d never felt before.
When I was twenty, my mom passed away. The grief hit me so hard that I lost touch with reality for a while. But Darell… he stayed calm, handled everything, and never left my side. Over and over again, he whispered, “I’ll always be here for you. You can rely on me. As long as I’m around, you have nothing to be afraid of.”
He was with me for ten years. The happiest, most peaceful ten years of my life.
So, of course, I wanted to say yes.
But that was the day after I got the diagnosis.
Brain cancer. Terminal. Almost no chance of recovery.
So instead of saying yes, I took the letter from him, and in front of all our friends, I slowly tore it to shreds and threw the pieces in his face.
I forced myself to hold back the tears, to keep my voice from cracking as I said, “Darell, you make me sick! Acting all sweet and noble—what, you think you can feed me just to bleed me dry later? You’re disgusting! My mom would never forgive you, not even in the afterlife.”
“If I’d known you were into incest, I would’ve stayed the hell away from you from the start,” I snapped.
The love letter fell to the ground in pieces. But I wasn’t done—I stomped on it twice, like it was our relationship itself.
Something I had to destroy, abandon, and crush with my own hands.
I still remember the look in his eyes—dark, devastated.
After that, we became strangers under the same roof. Rarely spoke. Rarely saw each other.
I only heard bits and pieces about how he was now openly pursuing a junior from our department. He got her the best mentors, took her on trips around the country and abroad for inspiration, and helped her network at art exhibitions and workshops.
The day his acceptance letter from that prestigious university arrived, I was just getting ready to head to the hospital for chemotherapy.
I stared at the envelope for a long time. I didn’t even notice the tears dripping onto the gold-embossed lettering.
I thought, maybe… if none of this had happened, the person walking into a brilliant future beside him could’ve been me.
Instead, I quietly put the letter back where I found it.
Someone like me doesn’t get to dream about the future anymore.