Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Timothy sat in his black Tesla with his head pressed against the steering wheel, his whole body shaking.
After what felt like hours, he finally looked up and dialed his captain.
"Director Fury? Your brother's that cancer specialist at Sloan Kettering, right? I need a favor."
Fury sounded concerned: "Goldstein, everything okay? Someone in your family sick?"
Timothy's grip on the phone turned his knuckles white: "Not family. Just... someone who used to matter."
*Used to matter?* Even as he said it, Timothy knew it was bullshit. Skylar had never stopped mattering, and that terrified him.
Katherine's call came through the second he hung up.
"Timothy! Where the hell are you? The guests are seated, my dad's about to have a stroke, and I'm standing here in a wedding dress with no groom!"
Her voice was pure panic. Timothy felt like he was drowning: "I'm coming. Just... give me five minutes."
**Bridal Suite**
Katherine looked like a fairy tale—flowing silk gown, perfect makeup, the works.
The moment Timothy walked in, she shoved his tux at him: "Timothy Goldstein, what could possibly be more important than marrying me? Get dressed NOW!"
But Timothy just stood there, frozen, seeing Skylar's face instead of Katherine's.
*What would Skylar look like walking down the aisle?*
The thought hit him like a truck. He couldn't take the suit from Katherine's hands.
"Katherine, we need to talk."
Katherine's face went white. She tried pushing him toward the dressing room: "No. Whatever it is, it can wait. Get dressed first."
Every instinct she had was screaming that once he said whatever was on his mind, this wedding was over.
Timothy's voice cracked: "I can't do this, Katherine. I can't marry you."
The tuxedo hit the floor like a dead weight.
Katherine's voice came out as a whisper: "Why?"
The silence felt like it could suffocate them both.
Timothy closed his eyes, hating himself: "Skylar's dying, Katherine. End-stage cancer. I can't just... I can't pretend that doesn't matter."
Katherine staggered backward like he'd slapped her.
"What is she to you?" Her voice was barely audible.
"She was my first love."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Katherine's face crumpled: "So she's the one. The girl you never talk about but never forgot."
She pressed her hand to her chest, her voice breaking completely: "Timothy, please. Go see her, make sure she's okay, and then come back to me. I'll wait. I can wait."
"Don't." Timothy's voice was rough with pain. "Don't wait for me."
He started toward the door, but Mrs. Farrell blocked his path, her face twisted with rage.
"Timothy Goldstein, if you walk out on my daughter, I will destroy you. Do you hear me?"
Timothy looked straight through her: "Is that what you said to Skylar when you threw her out five years ago?"
The image of Skylar—sick, alone, being forced to leave everything behind—made his chest feel like it was caving in.
"I respected your choice then," he said quietly. "Respect mine now."
Mrs. Farrell looked ready to explode, but Katherine stepped between them.
"Mom, stop." Tears were streaming down her perfect makeup. "Let him go."
She looked at Timothy with desperate hope: "I love you. I'll wait as long as you need."
Timothy felt something die inside his chest: "Katherine, don't. Please don't wait for me."
He walked out, leaving his entire future behind.
**Hospice Ward**
When Timothy pushed open the door, I was trying to play checkers with Rachel, my skeletal hands barely able to hold the pieces.
Timothy approached my bed, his voice carefully controlled: "I brought in some specialists from Memorial Sloan Kettering. They're the best in the city."
"There's an experimental treatment for your type of leukemia. If you qualify, there might be a real chance."
The game piece slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
I stared at him in absolute horror: "What are you doing here? Today's your wedding day!"
Timothy's jaw tightened: "Wedding got postponed. Weather."
*Liar,* my heart screamed, but I didn't call him on it.
The specialists ran every test imaginable, then left with my medical files, their faces telling me everything I needed to know.
When Timothy came back fifteen minutes later, his eyes were red and his hands were shaking.
He didn't say a word about the doctors.
Rachel grabbed the water pitcher: "I'll give you two some privacy."
The room fell into crushing silence.
Finally, Timothy looked at me with something that might have been hatred: "Tell me something, Skylar. Do you get off on playing the martyr?"
His voice was vicious: "You found out you were dying, so you decided to 'nobly' break my heart to save me from watching you suffer. Is that it?"
Every word felt like a physical blow. I twisted the blanket in my hands until my knuckles went white.
My throat felt like sandpaper: "You're giving me way too much credit, Timothy."
I forced myself to look him in the eye and delivered the lie that would finally set him free: "I broke up with you because I stopped loving you. End of story."