Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

I stared at the elegant invitation, my chest tightening until I could barely breathe.
"Well... congratulations then." I had to force the words out. "I won't make it to the ceremony, though."
I tried to sound casual, but my voice was shaking: "Maybe save me some wedding cake?"
Timothy turned away sharply, and I saw his shoulders tense: "Skylar, I... I hope you..."
His voice cracked completely. He couldn't even say the words.
Finally: "I hope you get well."
As he walked toward the door, I couldn't tear my eyes away from his retreating form. The moment the door closed, I pressed my pillow against my face and sobbed until the fabric was soaked through.
*This is it. This is really the end.*
I remembered the shy teenage boy who used to slip his hand into mine at the top of the Ferris wheel, his ears turning bright red.
The same boy who'd keep a roasted sweet potato warm inside his jacket for me, then grumble adorably while cleaning up the mess when someone bumped into him and it burst all over his shirt.
I couldn't watch him leave through the window. I couldn't even open the invitation.
Five years ago, I'd done the same thing—watched him stand in the rain while I bit my own wrist bloody to keep from running to him.
Now I couldn't even look at his back as he walked away.
I was terrified I'd give in, grab him, and desperately cling to whatever warmth he had left.
That's when Jayden came in carrying a container that smelled like heaven—cheesy sweet potato fries.
"Still hiding under blankets when you cry, just like when we were seven."
Jayden set the warm container in my trembling hands and yanked open the curtains, watching Timothy's figure disappear into the parking garage.
His voice was raw with protective fury: "I fucking knew Timothy Goldstein was a piece of shit. Moves on two seconds after you break up, then picks the worst possible moment to get married? While you're literally dying?"
"Those three years you wasted on that asshole... If I'd known he'd pull this shit, I would've beaten him at basketball a hundred times before letting you date him."
The sweet potato was soft and warm at first, then cloying, then somehow bitter as ash.
I managed two small bites before my throat refused to swallow.
"Jay, Timothy and I have been over for five years. He shouldn't have to put his life on hold because of me."
Every word felt like lifting weights: "That's... that's not what I want."
Jayden watched me push the food around, his medical training kicking in: "Sky, what's wrong? Pain getting worse?"
I sank deeper into the pillows, cold sweat mixing with tears on my face despite the maxed-out morphine drip.
I tried to lift the spoon one more time, but my hand collapsed before it reached my mouth.
Jayden's composure finally shattered. Tears hit my hand as he leaned close, his voice breaking:
"Skylar, baby, is there anything—anything at all—you still want to do? Anyone you want to talk to?"
Using every atom of strength left in my body, I whispered:
"That... that spicy chicken place near campus... the one with the jalapeños that made us cry..."
Rachel was suddenly in the doorway, mascara streaming down her face: "I know exactly which one! I'll get it right now!"
Her voice was completely destroyed: "Just... just don't go anywhere while I'm gone, okay? Promise me!"
After Rachel sprinted out, I turned to Jayden with desperate urgency: "There's something I need you to do. Something important. Promise me you'll—"
Once Rachel left, my consciousness started fragmenting. It felt like my soul was being slowly extracted, leaving me aware but unable to respond.
But the panic was gone. I had no regrets left. Only Jayden remained, holding my secrets, his face twisted with whatever burden I'd just given him.
Time became meaningless until the smell of spicy chicken cut through my haze, jalapeños burning my sinuses even from across the room.
Rachel was shaking so violently she could barely hold the container: "Skylar! I got it—extra spicy just like you always ordered..."
Her hands trembled so badly the container slipped, spilling hot chicken and sauce all over my blankets. She frantically tried to save each piece, burning her fingers on the scalding liquid.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry! I'm such a disaster! I can't even—Skylar, I'm sorry!"
I wanted to reach up and comfort her, tell her it was okay, but my arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
Through the window, someone was running—stumbling desperately toward the hospital entrance.
My vision blurred, and suddenly I was seventeen again, watching a boy in a pressed uniform stand at attention during morning assembly, and my heart had stuttered with first love.
Then spring returned—sunflower fields stretching forever, and he was running toward me in that white shirt that made him look like an angel, holding a single wildflower he'd picked from the roadside.
"When you smile like that," he'd whispered, tucking it behind my ear, "it feels like the whole world is waking up."
I closed my eyes and felt one last tear slide down my cheek.
Spring was over.
Winter was here to stay.