Part 2My Last 100 Sunsets

By the next morning, the replay of my livestream had spread throughout Rimevale. Locals, former guests, even bus drivers at the station were all talking about Eric and Denise.

Denise went live, this time from behind the inn's wooden counter. She laid out four months of messages in chronological order for everyone to see. She faced the camera with no makeup on, looking pale.

"I admit I was the one who went after him. And I admit I kept pushing him to set a wedding date. Every time I asked about Alice, he told me she'd never really leave him."

Denise lowered her head, picking at the edge of the counter. "I thought Alice's silence meant she was okay with it. And every time Eric stalled, I convinced myself he was getting everything in order for us."

My phone buzzed. Eric was calling me on video.

I answered without turning on my camera. His voice was tired, but there was an unmistakable note of blame in it.

"Alice, why did you have to let a bunch of strangers watch our private business play out online? What about Veylune Inn? How are we supposed to keep the place running after this?"

He never asked about the pain in my bones. He never asked if I was scared of being alone in Varenia. All he cared about was the inn that once belonged to both of us.

I watched the snowcapped peaks outside my window brighten in the morning light.

"The inn is your problem now. Yours and hers. I already handed it over," I said.

"Alice, enough."

Eric took a deep breath, and his tone softened. "I know I handled things badly, but I never wanted to leave you. I've already set aside the money for your chemo. Send me your location, and I'll come get you."

On my computer screen, Denise played a voice message from Eric on her livestream.

"Denise, cover the front desk for me tomorrow night. Alice has chemo in the city tomorrow, and she won't be back at the inn tonight. I'll come over and keep you company."

The chat erupted the moment the recording ended. One of the inn's regular guests posted a long comment.

"I remember that day! Ms. Graham was in so much pain that her face had gone white, and she asked Mr. Jones to go to the hospital with her. He said a large group was checking in and he couldn't get away.

"In the end, Denise brought Ms. Graham her medication and walked her to the bus!"

My stomach clenched as I read the comment.

I clicked away from the livestream and sent Denise a private message. "You knew I was his fiancée. You knew I was sick. Why did you stay?"

Denise didn't dodge the question. She read my message aloud on the livestream. Her eyes grew red as she looked into the camera.

"Because I wanted to see if he would actually leave you. I wanted to see whether he'd choose responsibility or the excitement of someone new."

Another message from Eric popped up.

This time, it was a photo. It was from six years ago, when a blizzard had trapped us in the mountains and knocked out the power and water at the inn.

In the photo, I was bundled up in a heavy winter coat, handing him that same enamel mug filled with hot spiced cider I'd just made.

He'd sent a long message along with it.

"Alice, do you remember that day? We promised we'd run Veylune Inn together for the rest of our lives. Stop livestreaming. We still have an inn to run. Come back, and we'll start over."

I stared at that last sentence and couldn't help laughing. The laugh pulled at my ribs, and the pain doubled me over.

I reopened my livestream and posted a highlighted comment in the chat. "When did you find out I was sick?"

With more than 100,000 people watching, the chat went dead silent for five full seconds.

Eric's online indicator flickered once, then went gray. He logged off.

On her livestream, Denise looked up at the camera.

"Alice, I have one more piece of evidence. It proves he didn't just know you were sick. He even asked someone if you'd make it through this round of treatment. I'll post it before the next sunset."