Chapter 2

Without glancing back, I braced myself against the wall and shuffled toward my bed.

But no footsteps followed. No sound at all.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around.

A man stood just outside the door. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp.

I couldn't tell if it was the faint light or my dizziness screwing with my eyes, but even after staring for what felt like forever, I couldn't make out his face.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the fog in my head.

He was still standing there, not moving an inch.

His eyes, though—damn, they were cold. Maybe disgust, maybe just indifference, but they were locked on me.

I started to think this illness had really messed me up.

Because I could've sworn it was Daniel Brooks.

He looked at me just like he did five years ago. Calm. Cold as ice.

Back then, I'd said, "We're done."

And he'd just said, "Fine."

His voice was flat, not a hint of emotion in it.

The room was so quiet it felt suffocating.

I didn't say a word. Neither did he.

It took a minute for it to hit me that this wasn't just my mind playing tricks.

I wasn't alone in this room.

My palms got clammy, and for some reason, guilt started creeping in.

I forced a shaky smile and stammered, "Well… small world, huh? You here to see someone?"

The second the words came out, my eyes started to burn.

Thank God the room was dark. He probably couldn't see me tearing up, right?

Five years ago, when we split, it hurt like hell, but I never imagined we'd cross paths again like this—me on my last legs, barely holding on.

The distant look on Daniel's face softened, settling into quiet calm.

When he stepped inside, his voice was flat, like we were total strangers meeting for the first time.

Daniel said, "Someone booked me to handle funeral arrangements. Told me to meet here to sign the contract."

I froze, my brain slowly piecing it together. Then it clicked—Olivia had sent me that WhatsApp contact earlier that day.

"You're... Daniel, right?" I stammered, my voice barely steady.

Daniel just looked at me without a word.

He didn't say a word, just gave me a look that screamed, "Really? You're gonna act like you didn't know?"

I must've been sicker than I thought, because my brain was moving like it was stuck in mud.

Daniel hadn't even changed his WhatsApp profile pic—it was still that silly Patrick Star I'd set for him years ago.

Olivia had told me straight-up, "This is Daniel, the funeral guy."

And yet, it only hit me now that it was him.

The air turned thick with awkward silence.

After what felt like forever, I tried to explain, "Sorry, my bad. I'm the one who set this up. Just… forgot for a sec.

"And, uh, I swear I didn't know it was you."

Daniel let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Well, aren't you sweet for not holding it against me."

He turned to leave.

I didn't know why, but I propped myself against the wall and stumbled after him. "Hey, you're here already. Let's just sign the contract."

I had maybe a month left. Finding someone else now? Too much trouble, and I didn't have the energy for it.

He stopped at the door, and when he turned back, the resentment in his eyes was impossible to miss.

"Ms. Collins, you must think I'm a real catch," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He paused, then added slowly, "I'll handle anyone's funeral. Just not yours."

That hit like a punch to the gut.

Getting rejected when I was staring death in the face? Yeah, it stung.

I couldn't even look at him. My eyes dropped to the contract in his hand.

My head was a mess, and I blurted out something dumb. "Come on, a job's a job. You don't get to pick your clients, right?"

I couldn't meet his gaze, but his voice was like ice. "Anyone but you."

He started to walk away.

In that moment, it hit me—if he left now, that was it. We'd never see each other again.

I took a deep breath and stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

His words—"Anyone but you"—kept echoing in my head.

My nose burned, but I forced myself to speak. "You've got it all wrong. I set this up for my family, not me."

I kept my head down, no clue what he was thinking.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, he took the bank card I held out.

But before I could feel any relief, he added, his voice cold, "Don't contact me unless it's about the funeral. Nothing else."

He turned and walked away.

I remembered he still hadn't added me on WhatsApp. I opened my mouth to call after him.