Chapter 1
I met my ex-boyfriend Cecil Duncan again eight years later.
His bright colorful hair was gone. The tattoos disappeared. He became a noble and cold CEO.
I was still playing the innocent card. All the resources that I had gone down the drain.
"Miss Kendrick, I'm sorry. The cancer spread too far. Any further treatment would only add to your suffering," the doctor spoke gently, as if that softened the unsaid words: wait for death.
I carried my death sentence with me. When I passed the obstetrics department, I collided head-on with Cecil.
Eight years had passed. He looked taller, hotter, more—
Just then, he snapped, "If you aren't using your eyes, donate them to someone who needs them."
Alright. He was even more sharp-tongued than before.
*****
After tossing that cold remark my way, Cecil switched gears in an instant.
He turned to the pregnant woman beside him, his voice softening as he checked on her, all gentle and caring.
Even though I didn't mean to bump into her, she was pregnant. I decided I should earn some good karma before I kick the bucket.
"Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay?" I asked.
The woman gave me a reassuring smile and shook her head.
Then she looked up at Cecil, frowned, and lightly tapped his arm. "She didn't do it on purpose. Why do you have to be so mean?"
I raised an eyebrow in surprise, then kept nodding in agreement. I couldn't agree more.
Man, being a big shot CEO really messed Cecil up. He was way more of a jerk than he used to be.
"Sorry about him, miss. He's just worried and got all flustered. He didn't mean to be rude," the woman said.
She was heavily pregnant, and she had a soft, gentle aura about her.
She looked classy, and standing next to Cecil, they looked like they belonged together.
She clearly had no clue about what went down between me and Cecil, and Cecil was acting like he'd never met me before.
Suddenly, I wanted to get out of there.
"It's fine, as long as you're okay. I'll get going," I said.
With that, I turned and walked away, brushing past Cecil.
The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant, but I could still catch a faint whiff of Cecil's cedar cologne.
When I got home, I felt completely spent, like I'd hit my limit.
I collapsed onto the bed, and painful spasms wracked my stomach.
Cold sweat slid down my forehead, and tears slipped out to join it.
Just then, my phone started ringing like it was trying to drag me back from the dead.
"Cleo, great news. The investors are really into the new project. As soon as you finish the script, we can submit it for approval," Linda said.
It was Linda Newell, the TV producer. We'd met on a project and ended up becoming good friends.
I glanced at myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror by the wall. My face was ghostly pale and tear-stained, with messy hair plastered to my cheeks.
"Linda, I still haven't figured out the ending for the script. Can we hold off for a bit?" I said.
"Cleo, no way. The investors this time are major players. If we flake on them, we'll be blacklisted in this business," Linda replied.
My excuses died in my throat.
I could afford to not care about the fallout, but Linda had her whole life ahead of her.
"Alright, I get it. I'll finish the script as soon as I can," I said.
Once I hung up, I grabbed the painkillers the doctor had given me.
Just thirty pills to last me a month.
The doctor said to take one a day, but hell, I was dying anyway, so why bother suffering?
I shook out three pills and swallowed them all at once.
I sat down at my computer, opened the document, and brought my final story to a close.
Time slipped by as night turned to day, and then day faded back into night.
I finally typed: [The End]
After that, I stretched and let out a long, heavy sigh.
This story had been sitting in my inspiration stash for ages, but I only got around to sketching out a rough outline this year.
I stared at the words on the screen and couldn't help but give a bitter, wry smile.
"Maybe it's all God's will," I murmured.
I'd barely sent the script to Linda when my phone started blowing up.
"Cleo, I love this script. Honestly, I think it's your best work yet," Linda exclaimed.
The investors hadn't even replied, but she was already itching to pop the champagne.
When I was sitting in the booth, I still had no idea how I'd ended up here. Somehow, I'd gone along with Linda's invitation without thinking.
Trying to meet the deadline, I'd only grabbed a couple pieces of bread while writing, barely eating anything.
Now, after having a few drinks, my stomach wasn't too happy about it.
I couldn't take any more painkillers, so I pushed through the pain and got up, holding my glass, planning to ask the waiter for some hot water.
When I turned around, I smacked right into a warm, solid chest.
The instant that cedar scent filled my senses, my brain short-circuited. A second later, I got shoved away, hard.
Cecil frowned, with a look that screamed "gross" as he wiped his chest like I'd contaminated him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," I said sincerely.
"That's twice in two days you've run into me. If it's not on purpose, maybe you've got a screw loose," Cecil snarked.
Maybe it was the pain in my stomach, maybe it was just how exhausted I was.
Right now, my nerves were so raw I couldn't take any more of Cecil's digs.