That night, Paris got hit with a downpour.
I stood at the hospital window, looking down at the blurry figure.
Noah was still out there, on his knees. The rain was drenching him, but he just wouldn’t budge.
Ethan stood behind me. He held out a hot coffee.
“He’s still there.”
I took the coffee, the warmth seeping through the cup into my palm.
“Let him be.”
“Should I call security?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He’ll leave eventually.”
That’s how it is. People only appreciate things once they’re gone.
But some things, once they’re gone, they’re gone.
The next morning, hospital security finally had to drag Noah out.
But he didn’t give up.
He started showing up at the hospital entrance every day, holding a sign.
Even drew in the media.
Online, things started to get ugly.
Noah: STILL WAITING. Ella: SO COLD–HEARTED!
EIGHT YEARS?! GONE JUST LIKE THAT?
Ethan handed me his tablet, his brow furrowed.
“He’s using the internet to strong–arm you.”
I scoffed.
“I gave him too much credit. Thought he’d actually remember what I told him that day.”
“But now? Just to get me back, he’s pulling these low–blow stunts. Over and over again.
Sure enough, that afternoon, my social accounts were getting absolutely flooded.
So many people were commenting, calling me a cold, heartless bitch.
Some even dug up my hospital address in France, threatening to ‘get justice for Noah.‘”
Ethan’s face darkened.
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“Need me to call a lawyer?”
I shook my head.
“Eight years together, I wanted to give us both some dignity.”
“Looks like he doesn’t even want that now.”
“Fine then, I don’t have to hold back anymore.”
I logged into my old Twitter account and posted a video.
In the video, I looked calmly into the camera:
Noah, stop your act.”
“You forgot?”
You were the one who said, ‘Ella can’t live without me. She’ll always revolve around me.”
Now that I’m not revolving around you, you’re panicking?”
“You’re not coming to me because you love me.”
“It’s because your career is tanking, no one’s writing your new songs,
and your fans bailed.”
“You just can’t accept that the person who once saw you as her whole world doesn’t want you anymore.”
After the video dropped, public opinion instantly flipped.
Holy shit! Noah is this disgusting?
He used her and now he’s trying to guilt–trip her?
Ella, well played!
Noah finally went quiet.
He wiped out every single post about me, even unfollowing my account.
A week later, the entertainment news dropped.
Headline: Noah and Lily Official!
The photo? Them making out in a restaurant.
The entire internet blew up, trashing them as a pathetic couple, calling Noah a heartless snake.
Ethan showed me the news while I was tweaking my new song’s lyrics. Didn’t even glance up.
“Fine by me. Hope they’re locked in for life.”
Ethan quirked an eyebrow.
“Not sad?”
I just smiled.
“Why would I be? Trash belongs in the dumpster.”
10.10
Noah thought I’d be furious, completely lose it, maybe even crawl back to him.
But he was wrong.
I’d been over him for ages.
Three months later, Mom was doing way better, even able to get around a little in her wheelchair.
My lyrics got picked up by an international diva, and the new song dropped straight to #1 on global charts the day it was released.
Ethan showed up with champagne to celebrate:
“Congrats. You’re one step closer to your dream.”
I smiled, clinking his glass.
Thanks. Great working together.”
He looked at me, then, out of nowhere, asked:
“What’s next for you?”
My eyes went to the Paris skyline outside the window. I spoke softly:
“Keep writing songs. Help my mom recover. Live my own life.”
“No plans for… a new relationship?”
I turned to him, smiling.
“Whatever happens, happens.”
Some people are just passing through.
My future isn’t stopping for anyone.
Decades passed.
I lay peacefully in a hospital bed, awaiting death.
Sounds faded; my breathing grew shallow.
The grand life–and–death adventures I once went through seemed to gradually fade into history with time.
Both my painful withdrawal after leaving my ex–fiancé and my “Half–sister” entanglements with him have worn off over time.
The sun was shining and I felt warm.
Sounds faded; my breathing grew shallow.
A mechanical voice echoed,
“Welcome back to the Time Management Bureau.”
A warm energy enveloped me. Memories from centuries flooded my mind.
I opened my eyes.
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I remembered.
I’d been traveling through parallel universes, saving myself from suffering.
Each successful rewriting of my fate restored a piece of my soul.
A transparent screen appeared–the next timeline.
1 touched the “Travel” button.
The screen glowed softly, its information shifting.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.