Chapter 1
At our engagement party, my fiancé Jacob Conley's phone rang.
He shot to his feet in a panic, eyes flicking to me with mixed emotions. "Silvia is in Vetraland watching the aurora. There was an avalanche. I have to go save her."
All the guests in the room were stunned.
I traced the custom diamond ring he'd slipped onto my finger just minutes ago, right after promising he'd only ever love me.
My heart gradually cooled.
Almost as if I had already expected this, I said, "Go on then."
He squeezed my hand hard. "Lucia, wait for me. I'll make it up to you when I'm back."
And then he ran without looking back.
I watched his figure disappear, my fingers tightening around the medical report in my pocket.
There won't be a next time for him.
*****
The room erupted into chaos.
Some people scoffed, calling me cold-blooded.
Others sneered, saying it was embarrassing that I couldn't even hang onto my own guy.
Everyone present was basically family or close friends.
This wasn't the first time Jacob had left me for Silvia—the girl he just couldn't let go of.
If this had happened before, I would've broken down in tears.
But now, with the death sentence of a diagnosis weighing down my bag, it was almost comforting.
Thank goodness Jacob ditched me again.
Otherwise, I'd have to deal with all the stress and messy feelings if I was the one calling off the engagement.
I didn't blame Jacob anymore.
After all, this engagement was never about love—it was just a business alliance between our families.
Besides, I was the one stupid enough to fall for him first.
Even if this engagement had gone smoothly, there was never going to be a happy ending for us.
So I let Jacob walk away generously.
Let him go play hero and save his precious Cinderella.
It was time for me to finally deal with my own stuff.
*****
Three days later, Hank Bradford, a funeral planner, knocked on my door.
He showed up with a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, a flyer clenched between his teeth.
Through the paper, he mumbled, "Ms. Massey? Mind if we chat about the End-of-Life Care Package you signed up for?"
I stared at his wild chestnut curls and the smear of blueberry jam on his mouth, completely at a loss for words.
Even funeral planners went for the wholesome heartthrob look these days?
"Come on in," I said, stepping aside to let him in.
"Just give me the deluxe package. After all, I want some dignity even in death," I added jokingly.
Hank plopped down on the couch.
He pulled out his iPad and scrolled through a long list of packages.
He explained, "The basic package comes with a spa treatment for the dearly departed, plus a loop of soothing funeral music.
"If you go for the deluxe, you get jumbo-sized teardrop effects and a memorial service live-streamed from eight camera angles..."
I handed him a glass of lemon water. "Is it possible for my urn to shoot out rainbow fireworks?"
His eyes instantly lit up. "You are exactly the kind of client we've been dreaming of," he exclaimed.
Outside, the cicadas were chirping noisily.
He took notes on every one of my ridiculous funeral requests like it was totally normal.
I stated, "I want a bubble machine. As for the playlist? Load it up with every Beyoncé album. All of them.
"And every guest has to try my homemade blueberry tarts. No excuses."
"Too bad," I muttered, rubbing my aching temples. "I still haven't cracked my recipe for the ultimate blueberry tart at my funeral.
"If I had, we could've settled that today."
I've got a serious sweet tooth—especially anything blueberry.
Lately, as my illness has gotten worse, I basically live on those sweet blueberry tarts just to make it through the day.
"If you trust me, I actually am a decent baker," Hank said.
He suddenly looked up, his eyes gleaming so bright it was almost startling.
"How about this—I'll show you how to bake, and you help me boost my numbers. Fair trade?" Hank offered.
The sunset caught his lashes, dusting them with flecks of gold.
Almost without thinking, I held out my hand. "Alright, Mr. Bradford."
Some encounters were destined by God, it seemed.
Just like that, Hank and his blueberry tarts came into my life—one that was desolate and running out of time.
Eighteen hours after Jacob left, his first message from Vetraland popped up on my phone. [Lucia, I made it. Signal here sucks. Silvia's pretty rattled, but she's fine. Thank god.]
Attached was a picture—nothing but endless white snow, and just a sliver of a hospital window in the corner.
I stared at the message, letting it sink in.
I could almost see it: Jacob typing "Lucky," the moment that huge weight finally dropped from his heart.
It was a weight Jacob always carried for Silvia.
Silvia and Jacob had grown up in a small town, practically inseparable since childhood.
Later, the Conley family seized an opportunity, their business flourished, and they moved to this bustling new city.
Teaming up with my family made their business thrive even more.
Their social status just kept rising.
There shouldn't have been anymore connection between Silvia and Jacob but that changed a few years ago.
Silvia turned up, dressed in a washed-out old dress, looking lost and timid—like she didn't quite belong anywhere.
And just like that, she reappeared in Jacob's world.
My thumb hovered over the cold screen for ages.
In the end, I turned off my phone and shoved it down between the couch cushions.
It was as though that would somehow shut out every last message from that icy place.
Hank was still in the kitchen, tinkering with his blueberry jam, humming some off-key tune.
The air was thick with the sweet, tangy scent of blueberries, and a hint of caramel.
"Hey, Ms. Massey, you want to taste-test the first batch?" Hank called out.