Chapter 170 Cancer

Chapter 170 Cancer
The buzzing had dragged me out of the half-sleep I hadn’t meant to fall into.

My neck had ached. My mouth, tasted like old coffee. The laptop screen had gone dark. For a second I didn’t know where I was, only that something sharp and continuous was forcing me back into the room. I groaned, pushed myself upright, and fumbled for the phone.

A news notification glowed on the screen.

University Reports Death of Undergraduate Student

My stomach dropped so hard I felt it in my throat.

No.

No, no, no.

I stared at the headline, thumb hovering, heart already slamming against my ribs. The room felt too small. The air felt too thin. I told myself it couldn’t be her. It was a big campus. Thousands of students. It was someone else. It had to be someone else.

Still, my hand shook when I tapped the alert.

The article loaded slowly. I read the first paragraph with my pulse roaring in my ears.

A student had died after a long battle with cancer. A junior. A name I didn’t recognize. The university was offering counseling services. Classes would be cancelled for a day of mourning.

I let out a breath that sounded like a sob.

It wasn’t her.

Thank God. Thank every version of God I didn’t even believe in. It wasn’t Sophia.

The relief hit so fast it made me dizzy. Then the guilt came right behind it— hot and immediate. Someone was dead. Some family was getting the worst phone call of their lives.

And I was sitting here feeling grateful because the name on the screen wasn’t hers. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and tried to steady my breathing.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the empty room, to the kid I didn’t know, to the universe in general. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t lose her. Not her.”

I sat there until the shaking in my hands slowed.

Sophia.

I needed to hear her voice. I needed to know she was still on the other side of the country, still breathing, still fighting her way through the mess the Fund had dropped on her. I didn’t want to disturb her. She had asked for a little quiet, but the fear from thirty seconds ago was still living in my chest. I couldn’t carry it alone.

I reached for the phone to call her.

That was when I saw the iMessage thread.

Several texts from her, sent while I had been half-asleep over the laptop.

Sophia:
"I FaceTimed my mum to tell her about the scholarship.
You should have seen her face.
If looks could kill, I wouldn't be typing this right now.
She was so disappointed. So hurt. And I don't even blame her. She's already sacrificed so much because of me, Daniel. More than I think I'll ever be able to repay. And somehow, after everything she's done, I've still managed to end up here.
I keep thinking about that. About how tired she sounded. About the look on her face. About how badly I've disappointed her.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
I've been trying to hold everything together for so long, but I don't think I can do it anymore. I feel like I'm drowning, Daniel, and every time I think I've found something to hold on to, it slips through my fingers.
Everything is falling apart. The scholarship. My future. My mum.
Us.
I don't know how much more I can carry.
And I'm sorry for making you carry some of it with me.
You didn't deserve that.
You deserved someone who could give you a life without all this pain attached to it. Someone who could wake up beside you every morning without wondering what disaster was waiting around the corner.
I'm sorry I couldn't be that person.
I need you to know something, though: you were the best thing that ever happened to me.
Even if everything else in my life feels like it has gone wrong, I will never regret finding you. Loving you was never a mistake.
So please, when you remember me, don't remember all of this.
Remember the girl who laughed too loudly when she was nervous. Remember the girl who argued with you over absolutely everything. Remember the girl who loved you enough to believe, for a little while, that maybe things could actually get better.
I love you, Daniel.
I always will.
And I'm sorry for the pain this is going to cause you.
Please don't hate me."

“No, no, no, baby girl,” I said out loud to the empty room. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

I read the messages twice. Then a third time. My stomach did a dive in.

I stared at the final line until the words began to blur. "Please don't hate me." What did she mean?

Why did this sound like a goodbye?

NO. I shook my head, refusing to let the thought finish forming.

I immediately dailed her number on my phone. It rang, but I got no answer. I called again. Still nothing.

My hands had started trembling.

I read the messages again, desperately searching for something I'd missed. Some ordinary explanation. Some sentence that would make all of this sound less final.

There wasn't one. And for the first time, a terrifying thought entered my mind.

My thumb was already moving to text her when the laptop screen lit up again on its own.

Notification after notification began stacking across the top of the display. My phone started buzzing again in my hand. Different news apps. Different local stations. The same red “BREAKING” banners.

I felt the blood leave my face before I even read the words.