Chapter 134 Chapter 134 Death
I went home.
I gave him two days with his family.
Nick hated the idea. He got mad—so mad. He didn’t want me gone, not even for that long. But I told him I would be back today.
Today.
The day I am going to hate for the rest of my life.
He stopped eating altogether. The weight hasn’t dropped yet, not fully, but it’s coming. You can see it in the way his clothes hang, in the way his body moves slower than it should.
I step out of the shower and take a deep breath.
There are too many emotions inside me, too many trying to claw their way out all at once. I can’t deal with them right now. I shove them down, shelf them like something I’ll come back to later.
I spent last night crying.
I’m sure Ivan enjoyed that.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t sleep at all. He just watches me now. Silent. Distant. Like I’m nothing more than another woman passing through his life.
He stopped speaking to me.
Just like that.
I dry my body and start getting dressed. My feet feel heavy, like they’re encased in lead. Every movement is slow, mechanical. I’m on autopilot.
Tights.
Sports bra.
Oversized shirt.
Socks.
Shoes.
I brush my hair once it’s dry. I skip makeup. What’s the point? I’m going to cry anyway.
When I step into the hallway, Ivan is already there, leaning back against the front door. He’s all the way across the apartment, but I can feel his eyes on me before I even look.
He’s going to drive me.
I don’t say anything.
I just walk past him, and he follows. Out the door, down the elevator, into the parking lot. He opens the passenger door of his black Bentley, and I slide in without a word.
The drive takes thirty minutes.
It feels like a lifetime.
Something dark coils inside me the entire way, hollowing me out, draining everything I have left. By the time we pull up to Nick’s house, I feel empty.
Completely empty.
Ivan stays in the car.
On the street, every familiar vehicle is already there. I’m the last one to arrive.
Inside the house, it’s silent.
Too silent.
The kind of silence that presses against your ears until it hurts.
I move through it slowly, until I reach the second floor. Then the quiet shifts—low voices, soft murmurs, grief trying to stay contained.
I stop.
Everyone turns to look at me.
“He said goodbye to everyone already. He is ready for you,” his dad says.
There isn’t a single dry eye in the room.
Vince.
Andreas.
Matt.
Tish.
Erika.
Gemma.
Nick’s grandparents are already heading downstairs, unable to stay. His cousins line the walls, quiet, broken.
I don’t say anything.
My hand reaches for the doorknob. It’s cold.
I turn it and step inside.
“Close the door,” Nick says.
I do.
I move to the side of his bed. His hand lifts, reaching for me.
The room is dim, painted in that deep green he always loved. The only other person there is the hospice nurse, standing quietly near the IV.
Nick is hooked up, the line running into his arm. In his hand is a small remote, a cord trailing from it back to the IV.
I follow it with my eyes.
I understand.
“Get in bed with me,” he says, smiling like this is any other day.
Like this is normal.
I climb in beside him, slipping under the blanket. His arms wrap around me instantly, pulling me close. His warmth surrounds me, familiar, grounding.
I press my face into his chest.
“In this life and in the next, I will be waiting,” he whispers. “Mi amor.”
“You’re going up,” I murmur. “I’ll be going down.”
“I’ll find you,” he says softly, tilting his head down.
His lips brush against mine.
Gentle.
Familiar.
Final.
I hear it then.
A click.
So soft I almost miss it.
Then another.
His heart is beating so fast against my cheek.
And then—
It isn’t.
In a few short moments, everything changes.
His heart stops.
His breathing fades.
His arms loosen around me.
“No,” I whisper, gripping him tighter, like I can hold him here, like I can force him to stay.
But he’s already gone.
I feel it.
His body starts to cool beneath my hands.
I pull back slowly.
The light in his eyes is gone.
His lips are slightly parted, frozen in that last breath.
I reach up and kiss his forehead, pushing his hair back the way he likes it.
Then I slide out of the bed.
My legs carry me to the door without asking permission.
I open it.
“He’s gone,” I say quietly.
His mother collapses to the floor.
The sound of it echoes, but it feels far away.
Tears fall down my face, but no sound comes with them. I can’t cry here. I can’t break here.
Not yet.
My friends surround me, pulling me into hugs, one after another.
I don’t return them.
I just stand there.
Still.
Empty.
Autopilot takes over again.
I move through the house, down the stairs, out the front door, into the street.
Ivan is leaning against the front fender of his car, a cigarette between his fingers.
He sees me.
He puts it out against his hand without flinching, then slips it into his pocket. He opens the door for me.
I get in.
The drive home is a blur.
Everything is a blur.
Until I’m back in my room.
In my closet.
Pulling on Nick’s basketball jersey.
I climb into bed, pulling the covers over me.
And then—
I break.
Completely.
I let everything hit me all at once. Every emotion I held back crashes through me. Grief, anger, love, loss—everything pours out, uncontrollable.
I curl into myself, clutching the fabric like it’s him.
And I fall apart.