Part 1Loving You Was Dying, Leaving You Is Living

Three years into my cancer battle, I finally couldn't hold on anymore.

Before I found my release, I wanted one last look at the old apartment complex where I'd lived with my parents.

I had intended to come quietly, leave silently.

But unexpectedly, as soon as I reached the complex gates, I ran into my ex-husband, dressed in a sharp suit.

Years had passed, and we had both changed.

He had removed the woven bracelet I made for him, now wearing an expensive gold watch.

I had shaved off the long hair he loved most, now wearing a hat to hide my bald head.

We looked at each other for a moment before exchanging greetings.

As we brushed past, Aaron Hayes suddenly called out to me.

"Fiona Thorne, are you still angry with me?"

I subtly curled my lips, shaking my head.

There's only anger where there's love.

And my love had long since been eroded.

I didn't look back, striding into the apartment complex.

The last moments of my life, I wanted to keep for myself.

For the once infinitely happy little home I had.

* * *

In the South, there is no autumn.

Mid-October had just arrived, and the wind was already quite cold.

I slowly walked to my doorstep.

This was the apartment my parents were allocated before they got married. I was born and grew up here.

Later, when Dad became the factory manager, we still didn't move.

Only because Aaron lived next door.

I knelt down, reaching for the bottom of the flowerpot, but felt nothing.

My heart jolted.

The next second, strong hands lifted me, my back instantly pressed against a solid chest.

Turning my head, Aaron's face was already close to mine.

"Why are your hands so cold?"

I abruptly pulled my hand back, stepping away.

Aaron stared at me, then pulled a pair of wool gloves from his own pocket.

A leaf was embroidered near the cuff of the gloves, the stitching a familiar habit of Olivia's needlework.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, politely declining:

"No trouble, I'm not cold."

"You're usually so afraid of cold hands and chilblains..."

Mid-sentence, he saw the embroidery on the gloves and paused.

He silently put the gloves away, asking if I had forgotten my keys again.

I nodded.

Aaron offered to accompany me to the factory office to get a spare key, just like in high school.

But we were no longer high school students, nor did we have any reason to go together.

Aaron and I should have been strangers.

Seeing an old man riding a bicycle in the same direction, I asked for a ride.

The uncle readily agreed. After a few pedal strokes, he looked back.

He smiled and asked: "Having a lovers' spat?"

"I often see that young man waiting by the door. Look how anxious he is when you get on the bike. Just scare him a bit, okay?"

I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, pulling my coat tighter.

"He's not my boyfriend. We've been divorced for eight years."

"He lives there anyway. He's not waiting for me."

The uncle chuckled awkwardly, then changed the subject.

"Young lady, you used to live here too, right?"

"Why choose to come back in October? It's much warmer earlier in the year, you could've played by the river, it's so refreshing then!"

I looked back; Aaron had become a blurry little dot.

In a blink, he was out of sight.

I rubbed the hem of my coat, smiling bitterly: "I had intended to come back sooner."

"But August was for my mother's funeral, September I was tethered to IV drips... and so it slowly dragged to October."

The uncle apologized, shutting his mouth, his face full of regret.

I smiled, patting the uncle's shoulder, "It's alright, uncle."

"People are meant to die. I've come to terms with it."

After my diagnosis, many people pitied my youth, my lonely, ghost-like existence.

But who cared?

The day I divorced Aaron, I chewed up and swallowed the word 'care'.

The uncle listened quietly, dropping me off smoothly at my destination.

As I thanked him and was about to enter the factory office, the uncle called out to me.

His expression was conflicted, and he asked in a low voice.

"Miss, why did you and your ex-husband divorce?"

"I thought he seemed quite concerned about you. Given your current health, it would be good to have someone caring for you."

I listened calmly, then replied indifferently.

"Divorce is usually for the same few reasons, isn't it?"

"I caught him in bed with my best friend."