Zayden
They arrested Celeste at dawn.
It wasn't just the elevator incident. Turns out she'd been stalking Elena for months—photos, stolen prescriptions, threatening emails she never sent. The press latched on instantly.
"Billionaire Heir's Ex Fiancee Arrested in Attempted Murder Scandal"
"CEO's Secret Lover Targeted by Jealous Socialite"
"Zayden Wolfe Seen Crying Outside ICU – 'She Flatlined In My Arms'"
Every headline felt like a punch. But none of it mattered—not compared to her.
Elena.
She was finally stable.
Still pale. Still fragile. But alive.
And smiling when she saw me.
"Any jail food updates?" she asked sleepily, fingers curling around mine.
I kissed them. "Apparently, Celeste hates metal toilets. Justice is poetic."
---
Elena
A week later, I convinced him to take me away again.
Back to the lake house.
Back to peace.
The sky shimmered like it was painted just for us. We cooked barefoot in the kitchen, spilled flour everywhere, kissed under sunbeams like we were in some old romantic movie.
That night, I read him a list.
"My bucket list," I whispered. "The things I still want before…"
He hushed me. "You're not going anywhere."
"I might," I said softly. "But I want to live until the very last heartbeat."
He took the list from me, read the top few lines:
Watch the northern lights.
Slow dance in the rain.
Make love by candlelight.
Learn to ride a motorbike.
Write a letter to myself for after I'm gone.
Be held like I'm someone's whole universe.
His throat bobbed.
"You are," he said. "You're my universe. And we're doing every single one of these."
---
Noah
I tried not to be bitter.
Seeing her happy—really happy—should've made everything easier.
But watching her lean into Zayden's chest, giggling as they lit candles, tore something in me I didn't know was still breakable.
She'd never loved me that way. Not really.
But I'd loved her with everything I had.
Maybe that was enough.
Maybe now… I could finally let her go.
---
Celeste
They granted her bail.
But the city was done with her. Her face was everywhere—humiliated, exposed, ruined.
And yet, in her penthouse suite, she sat with a file on her lap.
Medical reports.
A single line circled in red:
"Patient has less than one year to live, if no intervention is done."
She didn't smile.
But the fire in her eyes wasn't gone.
"I may have lost the man," she whispered, "but if I'm going to hell, I'm dragging her with me."
---
Zayden
She fell asleep in my arms that night.
Her bucket list lay between us. We'd crossed out two more today.
She looked so peaceful, wrapped in candlelight, her head on my chest.
But my heart—
It was terrified.
Because loving her meant watching the clock tick louder.
And I wasn't ready to say goodbye.
Not now.
Not ever.
---