Chapter 1

I was running a fever of 104 degrees, and my boyfriend had been called into work for overtime. But he forgot his wool scarf, so I dashed downstairs into the snow to catch him, only to hear him leaving a voicemail:

"Overtime? Just a little white lie I told her. She won't be upset.

"She's so clingy, like a puppy that won't let go. No sense of space at all.

"Honestly, it's pretty dull. No thrill whatsoever..."

I stood there, clinging to his wool scarf in shock. He only needed to turn around, and he would have seen me standing right there. But he didn’t. His laughter faded into the night.

I tossed the scarf into a nearby trash bin, along with the image of him in my heart.

After that, I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom, as if a huge weight had been lifted, as if the chains binding my heart had suddenly broken. I felt completely liberated. My body was feverish, my steps unsteady.

I forced myself to pack a few essential clothes and haphazardly stuffed some toiletries into a small suitcase before slumping onto the bed, breathing heavily. My fever was too high, and my heart was pounding like a drum. I could even feel the hot blood racing through my veins, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat. This couldn't go on.

I hailed a car to take me to the nearest hospital. Since rideshares couldn't enter this neighborhood, I had to drag my feverish body out to the main road. The streetlights, casting halos in the snowy night, created beautiful circles.

I staggered towards the gate, letting the icy snowflakes gently fall on my face and neck. It felt soothing, making me tilt my head up to welcome more of them. I had forgotten about the dizziness until I felt lightheaded and remembered again.

Thankfully, I fell into a strong embrace, not onto the hard ground.

Chapter 2

"Cillian was worried about you being alone, so he asked me to drop by and check on you."

Remi, Cillian's classmate and work colleague, was someone I knew but not very well. Right now, he was spinning a harmless story for Cillian's sake, but I wasn't bothered enough to call him out on it.

Legacy, the nurse, came over to take my temperature and glanced at the IV drip while also giving me a lecture. "I can't believe your boyfriend would be so irresponsible, bringing you in with such a high fever. Do you even understand how serious this is?"

Remi looked a bit surprised, and just as I was about to offer him some defense, Legacy turned her attention to me. "And you," she continued, "your health is your own responsibility. If you don't care about it, nobody else will!"

She shot Remi a sharp glance from the corner of her eye. Remi, clearly feeling unjustly accused, mumbled something I didn't catch. It was late, well into the early morning hours.

He pulled a chair to the foot of my bed, positioning himself so he could keep an eye on the IV drip with just a glance. After making sure the drip was flowing correctly, he took out his phone.

"Please don't message him!"

I sat up abruptly to stop him, causing the IV to sway wildly. "Don't tell him where I am. I don't want him to know."

Remi quickly stood up to steady the IV. "You didn't have to panic. I'm not that quick on the keyboard."

His long arm stretched over my head, and it was only then I fully appreciated his height. His expression showed frustration and disbelief. "You're in this condition and still worried about upsetting him? What's he doing working late at a time like this anyway?"

He misunderstood, but there was some truth to his words. I chuckled wryly to myself. "It seems I've been such a pushover that anyone would think I'm foolish."

Remi's expression froze. I pulled out my phone to show him. "It's her birthday today, isn't it? You guys are partying at this late hour?"

The sender's profile picture was that of a pretty girl with the name "Britney." This was Maeve, a new recruit at Cillian's company. The video showed Cillian clinking glasses with her, the timestamp just before I fainted. Remi probably hadn't seen this part.

"And I overheard Cillian's voice message to all of you. He was so absorbed in the moment that he didn't even notice the sound of snow crunching under my feet as I followed him."

"You..."

Facing Remi’s bewilderment, I continued casually, even managing a smile. "I went downstairs to bring him a scarf. It was so bitterly cold, I couldn’t leave him without one."

"With a high fever?" He looked at me in disbelief.

I nodded. "Yes, with a high fever."

Remi stood there, stunned, and then turned his back to me, muttering a quiet curse, "Damn!"

---

"So," he tentatively awaited my response.

"What you know about me is all from within Cillian's orbit, right?"

His eyes widened with shock, caught somewhere between puzzlement and slow realization. He was smart, able to understand without needing every detail spelled out.

I had left that world behind, and the person I was going to be wouldn’t be the same as before.

He didn’t love me for who I am. He loved the idea of being Cillian's girlfriend. A relationship built on such a foundation could only lead to disappointment and misalignment. It was flawed from the start.

So why even begin?

He suddenly relaxed, his tense shoulders dropping, even his breathing became easier.

"You're really insightful, more than most."

I mocked myself, "If I were truly perceptive, I wouldn't have wasted so many years with the wrong person."

"Rather than wasted, wasn't it more like a journey of self-discovery?"

I wished him goodbye and rolled my luggage towards the airport security. Weighing, checking in—each step was smooth and efficient. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a silhouette.

He hadn’t moved, just stood there watching me like a statue.

I moved forward, not turning back. I didn’t know what would happen if I looked back, but I knew what lay ahead.

This time, I wanted to take control of my destiny, to pursue my light, my hope.

That's where my dreams begin.

Chapter 3

The hospital medication worked wonders; by dawn, my temperature was back to normal. However, the doctor warned that such a high fever might return and suggested I stay for a few more days for observation.

Remi brought breakfast. "Have a bite; I'm not sure if it's your kind of thing."

I'm not typically picky about food, but Cillian always was, sticking to the same few choices repeatedly. Eggs and bacon sandwiches had lost their charm. I much preferred buttery croissants drizzled with honey and accompanied by fresh fruit. After being sick, the hunger hits hard, and I devoured quite a bit.

"Normally, Cillian says you're finicky with food, but today you're eating like there's no tomorrow."

He took a portion for himself and, after polishing off a few croissants, sipped his coffee and looked at me.

"I haven’t told him you’re here. If he asks, what should I say?"

So it's been an entire night, and Cillian hasn’t even bothered to check on his sick girlfriend.

"Just tell him you have no idea."

He frowned slightly, almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Holding on to something pointless is as good as chasing shadows."

"Cillian acts laid-back, but deep down, you’re all he thinks about."

I snorted. "Oh, sure. You've made your point; now, can you back it up with some evidence? Got anything solid?"

"I remember before..." he hesitated.

"Let's not dredge up the past. You can't live in it forever. Tell me what you see now."

Remi fell silent.

My phone buzzed; it was Cillian. I didn’t pick up. Soon, messages came in quick bursts.

[You’re not at home. Why aren’t you answering?

[Where did you go?

[Where are you? Have you vanished?]

I turned off the screen and placed the phone face down on the hospital bed. I thought my heart would race and ache like it used to, but surprisingly—nothing. The relief caught me off guard. So this is what it feels like to release yourself, just a moment, and everything changes.

One moment you love him so much you’d do anything, and the next, you can watch him deal with his own mess. People really are strange creatures.

Remi hesitated to speak. "He’s trying to find you..."

Just then, his phone rang too. He checked the caller ID, glanced at me, and quietly stepped outside to answer.

But I could still overhear.

"I don’t know; I went home last night.

"Couldn't deal with their chaos anymore; your excuse let me escape early.

"Did you all party until dawn again? Madelynn wasn’t at home?

"I’m not trying to side against you, but you've crossed a line. She’s still running a fever..."

He finished the call and came back, releasing a deep sigh. "Well, I’ve fibbed to your friend for you. What's your next move?"

I pointed to a small suitcase. "Could you help me grab the tablet and charger? I've got an illustration to finish."

He obliged without a word, setting up the charger and refraining from further questions.

Cillian called again and sent a text, tossing in a threat.

[Why are you acting stuck-up? I just worked overtime and couldn’t be with you. Get back to me immediately, or don't blame me for the consequences!!!]

Three exclamation marks to emphasize his anger. In the past, I would never have left his messages hanging. No matter how resistant I felt, I believed the silent treatment wasn’t the way to resolve issues. Problems need to be talked through; communication must remain open.

But now, I’ve found that saying no feels incredibly freeing.