"Ms. Rhodes, this is Dignitas calling. Did you personally apply for euthanasia on December 25th?"

Sylvia Rhodes's eyelashes fluttered slightly, but her voice remained calm. "Yes."

"Very well. Your application has been approved. You have two weeks to put your affairs in order."

Just after Sylvia hung up, the bedroom door opened.

Her husband, Adrien Farrell, entered, letting in a sharp gust of cold air. Upon seeing her, he smiled and raised a delicately wrapped gift. "Syl, happy birthday."

Sylvia smiled softly. "My birthday was yesterday."

Adrien froze. A flicker of panic and embarrassment crossed his face.

"Sorry, I've been too busy with work lately."

He squatted down and gently massaged her calves, changing the subject. "How are you feeling today? Any discomfort in your legs?"

He pressed too hard, his slender hands turning red. Veins stood out on the backs of his hands, a striking sight.

His skill was undeniable, but Sylvia felt nothing.

When she didn't respond, Adrien looked up to ask, but his phone suddenly chirped in his pocket.

He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. The moment he saw the name, a smile spread across his face.

Whatever he'd been about to say was forgotten. He stood up abruptly.

"Syl, I need to handle something for work. I'll come back to massage you later." Then he headed to the study.

Sylvia stayed silent, watching him leave.

Even after he was gone, his genuine, irrepressible smile replayed in her mind.

He'd smile wholeheartedly over work?

It must have been about someone he liked.

After all, she'd seen him smile like that many times before.

Every morning in high school, she'd hurriedly finish her milk and rush downstairs, and there he'd be, smiling just like that. He'd walk over, take her heavy backpack, and take her to school on his bike.

They were both 18 back then, young and bright, immature yet full of life. They were completely smitten with each other.

Their love story unfolded just like a romance novel—a bond nurtured over years of growing up side by side.

They dated in secret, keeping it hidden from both their parents and teachers. They promised to get into the same university and make their relationship public one day.

They pushed each other to improve. In the end, both scored nearly perfect on their SATs and were admitted to Harvard University.

Everything should have ended perfectly there.

But something unexpected happened.

Just one day before school began, they were in a car crash. When the car was about the hit them, Sylvia pushed Adrien out of the way.

He walked away unharmed, but she was left paralyzed from the waist down.

Misfortune never comes alone. That same year, Sylvia's parents died in a plane crash. She buckled under the weight of the blows and fell into a deep depression.

Adrien was heartbroken. Right after graduation, he proposed.

He vowed he'd never let her down.

He had kept his word throughout their three-year marriage.

But the truth was exposed two weeks ago when Sylvia found his diary.

The man who declared his love every day had been pouring out his pain in that diary.

He wrote that he'd proposed out of a sense of duty, fearing that otherwise, everyone would blame him.

He added that every time he came home, the heavy, suffocating feeling made it hard to breathe; every second he spent with her was a new form of torture.

He noted that if he could have a second chance, he would have chosen the wheelchair. To him, the physical suffering was a far lighter weight than the crushing guilt of her sacrifice.

He admitted that he'd fallen for another girl, Kiersten Tresham. She was vibrant, bright, and lively, just like Sylvia had been before the crash.

The next day, Sylvia got several messages from Kiersten.

"Sylvia, Adrien told me you'll never walk again. You've known each other for so many years. Can't you just let him go?"

"Do you realize he's been trapped in a living hell because of you? He wishes he were dead. But he can't because he has to put on a brave face and take care of you. How miserable."

"If he hadn't met me, he might've lost his mind. Don't you feel guilty at all? I feel terrible for him. Besides, he loves me now. So, please let him go, so we can be together."

Immediately after, Kiersten sent a dozen photos of herself with Adrien.

Smiling as he brewed coffee, he noticed Kiersten taking a selfie, leaned in, and posed playfully for the camera.

He peeled a whole plate of shrimp for Kiersten and wiped sauce from her fingers.

He followed her footprints on the beach, then brought her a handful of seashells, a beaming smile on his face.

By the time she finished looking at all the photos, Sylvia's heart hurt so badly she could barely breathe. It felt like it was shattering.

But her eyes had run dry of tears, a hollow emptiness staring back from them.

She didn't reply, but Kiersten didn't stop.

Every day after, Kiersten sent new photos, each stamped with a date.

On November 21st, Adrien and Kiersten walked together in the park as the sun set.

On November 26th, they went to a pottery studio and made a vase together.

On December 1st, they attended a concert, talking about music and their future.

The photos of them kept coming...

Each timestamp was a silent contradiction to Adrien's claims of working late.

Even on her birthday yesterday, Sylvia waited all day and night for him.

But he never came back because he was enjoying fireworks with Kiersten.

Looking at those photos, Sylvia smiled bitterly until tears spilled out.

Back when they were both 17 years old, Adrien had loved Sylvia with all his heart.

Now that they were 25, he didn't love her anymore.

That night, Sylvia sat by the window all night. The following day, she submitted all the necessary documents to an overseas euthanasia organization, resolved to end her life.

She thought, "Adrien, you're all I have left.

"But you've been running from me.

"Then I will let you go and set myself free."

Sylvia sat alone in the living room for a long time. Only after dark did she wheel herself to the study and knock softly.

Adrien hurriedly ended his call and came out.

"Syl, I forgot your birthday. Since our third anniversary is coming up, let's celebrate both together, okay? Wherever you want to go, I'll take you there."

Sylvia looked at him, then spoke softly, "Let's go to Switzerland. I want to see the first snow."

At her words, a flash of surprise crossed Adrien's eyes.

"The first snow? It'll likely snow here in about a month. Let's just celebrate in town. It's a long trip. It might be too hard on you."

Sylvia shook her head. It was rare for her to turn him down.

She only had fifteen days left. She wouldn't live to see next month's snow.

Seeing her determination, Adrien didn't argue. He booked two tickets to Switzerland for Christmas.

Sylvia knew he'd agree.

She'd read in his diary that every time he came home after seeing Kiersten, his guilt grew stronger. He always tried to make it up to her.

She opened the clock app on her phone and set a countdown timer. She named it: Countdown to the End.

After booking the tickets, Adrien looked over at her tenderly, his voice full of doting.

"I booked the flights. We're going to Switzerland for Christmas."

Sylvia noticed his gaze briefly sweep over her phone before turning away. She nodded slightly.

Relieved that she agreed, he turned and headed toward the bathroom.

Watching as he walked away, Sylvia smiled faintly.

Once, no matter what she was doing, he'd come over and pester her with questions, just to get her attention.

Now her phone displayed the large words "Countdown to the End". He had even glanced over at it, but he didn't notice.

He really didn't care anymore.

Maybe it was better this way since both of them were tired of each other.

Fifteen more days, and all this pain would be over.

The next day, Sylvia got up early.

Adrien didn't stir until ten. When he came out of the bedroom, he found her sitting at the table writing something. Rubbing his eyes, he walked over.

The notebook was densely filled with many words. As he read through line by line, he realized it was a list of things to do.

The first thing to do was to visit her family's house and meet up with friends.

The second was to go to the lake and feed the pigeons.

The third was to get completely drunk at a bar.

"Syl, what's all this for?"

Sylvia paused and looked up. "A wish list."

Hearing that, Adrien seemed to remember something. A smile touched his eyes. "You made one of these when you were seventeen, too..."

He cut himself off, expression tightening with regret.

Sylvia knew he thought he'd misspoken—that bringing up the past would upset her.

But she'd made her peace with it. She picked up where he left off.

"Yeah. I wrote down 100 things to do before turning 18: bungee jumping, skiing, white-water rafting, surfing... Each activity was wild. But you were wilder. You not only documented everything but also joined me in every adventure."

When he heard her nostalgic tone, Adrien's mind flashed with faded memories.

He smiled, "Because I loved you so much. No matter what you did, I wanted to be right there with you. Having you by my side made me fearless. I even jumped off a cliff hundreds of meters high without hesitation."

Sylvia watched his animated expression quietly.

When his eyes finally drifted back to her, she said something out of the blue, "It's been so long since I've seen you smile like that."

Adrien's smile froze.

The atmosphere became awkward briefly before he changed the subject. "Then let me help you with these wishes, too."

Sylvia shook her head. "These are my wishes. They have nothing to do with you. You're busy with work. Don't worry about it."

For some reason, seeing her calm expression made his heart skip a beat.

He wanted to insist, but his phone rang.

The moment he answered, that same smile returned.

"Work," he said briefly, not checking her expression before turning to leave.

Watching him walk away, Sylvia froze.

Once, she'd refused him too, saying she wanted to complete the challenges alone.

But he'd never take no for an answer. He'd wheedle and persist until she gave in.

Now, everything had changed.

He didn't even try to convince her. He didn't bother with empty words like "I'll be worried about you".

People said love couldn't withstand marriage. She hadn't believed it then.

Now, it felt painfully true.

Those in love dream of growing old together. Yet their love ended halfway through that journey.

Nothing was left between them but tiredness now.

Sylvia finished the list alone.

At the top, in the space she'd left blank, she wrote clearly: Bucket List.

As she set down her pen, her phone lit up—another message from Kiersten.

This time, it was a photo of her sitting in the passenger seat of Adrien's car.

Before, messages like these would shatter her.

But now, she felt nothing. She simply opened her laptop, transferred the message, and printed it out.

Then she placed it in the drawer alongside her bucket list.

The drawer was already full of similar provocations she'd been collecting for days.

To her, death was a form of release.

But that didn't mean she was willing to let Adrien and Kiersten be together.

Adrien should have told her the truth when he fell out of love, not emotionally betrayed her.

And Kiersten shouldn't have provoked her again and again.

What Kiersten was doing was nothing like the "good girl" Adrien had described in his diary.

Sylvia would be happy to let Adrien see her true colors.

Over the next few days, Adrien didn't come home. He only sent a message saying he was on a business trip.

But Kiersten kept exposing his whereabouts.

Sylvia still didn't reply. She just printed out each message and stored it away carefully.

Then, she worked through her bucket list alone.

When it came to the tenth item on the list, which was to see flowers in bloom, she checked nearby locations on her phone and decided to visit a popular park renowned for its newly bloomed roses.

On a weekday, the park was quiet. She wheeled herself slowly along the path.

Around four in the afternoon, a few street musicians gathered in the square, playing guitars and singing soft love songs.

Sylvia glanced toward the sound and saw Adrien and Kiersten not far away.

They were sharing a snack, talking, and laughing.

Kiersten fed him a piece of fruit. He ate it without hesitation.

Watching the ease in his smile, Sylvia froze.

She hadn't expected to see them here.

She watched quietly a while longer, until Adrien suddenly walked over to one of the musicians. After a brief exchange, the singer handed him the guitar.

Adrien adjusted the microphone and began to play in front of the curious crowd.

"This song is for Kiersten, the girl I love."

He then began to sing in a clear, gentle voice, accompanied by the melodious strumming of the guitar.

Onlookers listened attentively to the tender, emotional love song.

A few girls nearby whispered to each other, their eyes sparkling.

"He's so handsome. I'm so jealous of her. My boyfriend would never do anything this romantic."

"This song is so moving. Is it an original?"

"Yes," Sylvia answered without thinking.

She wasn't sure if she was replying to the girl or mourning something.

She had heard this song once before, at a New Year's Eve event when she was sixteen.

Adrien had written the music and lyrics himself. He performed it as the finale, smiling under the stage lights as he addressed the entire school with those very words.

Only back then, the girl he sang for was her.

The whole auditorium had erupted in noise. The schoolboys and girls whistled and screamed in excitement.

A few days later, he even signed up for the school radio station.

After that, every lunch break, Sylvia could hear this song playing.

Everything back then had felt so perfect.

But things were different now. That song was no longer meant for her.

She was no longer the one he cared about.

Those girls noticed her tears and looked down with concern, quickly offering tissues. "Miss, why are you crying? Did the song move you that much?"

Only then did Sylvia realize she'd been crying without even knowing it.

She took the tissues, wiped her eyes, and slowly shook her head before wheeling herself away.

The nineteenth item on her list was to visit their old school.

Sylvia entered the familiar campus: the track where Adrien had run with her, the library where they'd studied together, the building where he'd carried her when she sprained her ankle...

Every corner held memories of them together. But now that she couldn't walk, she could only look from a distance.

Finally, she rolled her wheelchair to a corner of the garden. She gazed at a fringe tree that stood about as tall as she was and zoned out.

Adrien had planted this tree himself during a class activity years ago.

All the other trees her classmates had planted had died later, leaving this one alone.

It wasn't because the tree was especially resilient, but because Adrien had come to check on it every day, watering and fertilizing it from time to time.

He'd never missed a day, whether in cold winters or hot summers.

When she'd found out about it, she'd asked him why he cared so much about a single tree.

He'd pulled her over to the tree, brushed away the weeds around it. She'd looked closely and noticed a line of words carved into the base of the trunk.

Eight years later, the tree had grown to reach her waist height, aligning perfectly with her as she sat in her wheelchair.

She took out a small knife she'd brought with her and slowly scraped off every bit of that carved line: "Adrien will always love Sylvia."

She stared at the now-bare patch of bark for a long time, smiling through fresh tears.

She muttered inwardly, "Adrien, you can't always 'love' me as you promised. Why did you tell two lies with one sentence?"

After a while, she left the school, hailed a taxi, and went to the civil registration office.

She wanted to have her official residency status revoked. The clerk frowned. "We only process this for deceased individuals."

Sylvia handed over her euthanasia approval papers and medical records documenting severe depression. Her tone was as calm as if she were talking about the weather.

"All my family members are gone. I'll be getting a divorce soon. There will be no one to handle this after I'm gone, so I'd rather take care of it myself now."

The clerk reviewed the documents, consulted a supervisor, and finally made an exception. They took her paperwork on the condition that the hospital would later mail her death certificate.

Sylvia noted the instruction, thanked them, and turned to leave.

But as she stepped outside and raised her hand to hail a taxi, Adrien stopped her.

He stepped out of a car, looking stunned. "Syl, what are you doing here?"

Sylvia hadn't expected to run into him here either.

She didn't answer his question, but instead asked, "What are you doing here?"

Adrien's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of panic in his eyes.

"I was having lunch with a friend nearby and saw you, so I came over to check on you."

Just then, the car door opened. Kiersten stepped out, smiling as she positioned herself between them.

"Adrien, is this your wife?"

Caught off guard, Adrien grew even more nervous but forced himself to stay calm.

"Syl, this is my friend, Kiersten Tresham."

Kiersten politely extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Sylvia. Did you come all the way out here for something important?"

Sylvia pretended not to see her hand and looked down, her voice soft. "I'm just fulfilling a birthday wish. I came to take some photos."

Kiersten's eyes lit up.

"Photos? Can I join you? I have good taste. I can help you choose outfits."

Sylvia glanced at Adrien. When he didn't object, she didn't refuse.

The three got into the car. Sylvia sat alone in the back, watching the scenery pass by.

At first, the car was quiet. Adrien held back, not daring to say much.

But soon, Kiersten started a conversation about a recently released movie.

Out of courtesy, he responded to her briefly.

It was a topic he enjoyed, so he got carried away, forgetting that Sylvia was in the back.

When they reached the destination, he got out of the car and walked away with Kiersten.

Watching their retreating figures, Sylvia moved her wheelchair out of the car with difficulty and followed them.

As they reached the entrance, a greeter smiled warmly at Adrien and Kiersten.

"Hi, are you two here for wedding photos? You make such a handsome couple. You look perfect together."

Hearing the words "wedding photos", Adrien frowned instinctively. "What are you talking about? My wife is right behind us."

The greeter looked embarrassed and quickly apologized, "You two look so much like a couple, and you were talking the whole time. I made a mistake. I'm so sorry."

Only then did Adrien realize how it looked. He hurried back to Sylvia, guilt written all over his face.

Kiersten also turned back with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, Sylvia, we got so caught up talking that we forgot about you. Why didn't you say something?"

Sylvia watched their performance quietly, feeling nothing but tiredness. She said nothing.

When they were young, she and Adrien had also talked about everything—dreams, the future, anything and everything.

But now, they had nothing to talk about.

The atmosphere grew awkward.

The greeter, trying to smooth things over, stepped in cheerfully.

"What kind of photos were you thinking of taking today?"

Both Adrien and Kiersten looked at Sylvia.

She calmly said, "Just casual photos", and Kiersten's eyes sparkled with something in her mind.

"Why don't you go pick out your outfits first, Sylvia? Since it's hard for you to move around, Adrien and I can try some poses to see how they look. Then you can just copy them. It'll be easy for you."

Without waiting for a response, she pulled Adrien toward the studio.

At first, he seemed reluctant, but as Kiersten guided him through different poses, he gradually relaxed and started playing along.

They took several shots together, seemingly enjoying themselves.

At one point, Kiersten stood on her toes and pinched his cheek playfully, telling him to smile.

Looking at her lively expression, he broke into an indulgent smile.

Sylvia watched their intimate display from outside without a word.

They didn't seem to stop anytime soon, so she called over a photographer.

"Could you take a portrait for me? I want it in black and white."

As the photographer wheeled her into another studio, he tried to talk her out of it, saying black-and-white photos didn't look good.

But Sylvia didn't change her mind.

After all, she was here to take her own funeral portrait.

Eventually, the photographer gave in and took the shot.

Just as the photo was printed, the commotion next door died down.

Kiersten walked over with a stack of freshly printed photos, oozing apology.

"Sorry, Sylvia, we got carried away and forgot about you. Why don't you two take some photos now?"

Sylvia glanced at Adrien, who was avoiding her eyes behind Kiersten.

She smiled faintly, "No need."

Adrien had realized how inappropriate his behavior had been.

Guilt washed over him. He quickly stepped forward to push her wheelchair, offering to buy her a necklace to make up for it.

Kiersten insisted on tagging along, saying she wanted earrings and could help Sylvia choose.

They wandered around the mall for a while before Adrien got a call from work. The noise was too loud, so he headed back to the parking garage to take it.

Sylvia had lost interest in shopping and said she wanted to leave. Kiersten began pushing her toward the elevator.

After just a few steps, the fire alarm blared. A panicked crowd surged forward.

The surging crowd knocked over the wheelchair. Sylvia fell hard to the floor and was stepped on countless times by the rushing crowd.

Gripping a railing, she struggled to lift her head and saw Adrien fighting his way toward them against the flow of people.

His face was filled with panic. He pushed through the people, pulled Kiersten into his arms. His voice trembled with relief.

"Kiki, I'm glad you're okay! I was so worried."

Kiersten glanced at Sylvia on the ground, and upon noticing Sylvia's gaze, she put on an awkward look.

"Adrien, Sylvia fell. It was so crowded."

Adrien followed her gaze and froze when he saw Sylvia covered in bruises.

He immediately let go of Kiersten and helped Sylvia up, his eyes full of guilt.

"There were too many people. I didn't see you. I'm sorry, Syl."

Sylvia said nothing. Her expression was calm, as if nothing had happened.

The three of them headed out in silence.

As they passed a young couple, Sylvia overheard the girl complaining quietly, "It was so dangerous. Everyone was running out, but that guy ran in because someone he loved was inside. Can you be that brave for me?"

When she recalled what she'd just witnessed, Sylvia's hand trembled inside her sleeve.

She thought back to high school, when a group of thugs with metal pipes had cornered her in an alley. It was Adrien who'd charged in with a knife, reckless and desperate, to save her.

Some things remained unchanged. He was still brave, still willing to risk everything.

But the person he was rushing to save wasn't her anymore.

After they returned home, Adrien carefully cleaned and bandaged Sylvia's wounds. Guilt and regret weighed heavily on him.

Over the next few days, he didn't go out. He stayed by her side almost constantly.

Sylvia remained indifferent to his action.

When the house fell quiet at night, she wheeled herself into the study and found the diary he thought he'd hidden well.

When she opened it, she saw the page filled with words: "Adrien, you're such a piece of shit." She closed it without reading further.

Just as she left the study, the bedroom door flew open. Adrien rushed out, disheveled and barefoot.

When he saw she was unharmed, he let out a long sigh of relief. "Syl, it's so late. What are you doing out here yourself?"

Sylvia avoided his gaze and lied calmly, "I was thirsty. Just getting some water."

He hurried to the kitchen and brought her a glass of water. His voice held a tinge of panic.

"Next time, just ask me to help you. If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself."

Sylvia looked directly at him. "Adrien, is there anything you want to tell me?"

He paused, then shook his head. "No."

If he had been honest, Sylvia would have let him go without a fight.

But even now, he still couldn't tell her the truth.

She closed her eyes and smiled, hiding the disappointment in her gaze.

The next day, Sylvia took out their photo album. Without hesitation, she cut every picture into pieces.

Adrien stared at the fragments covering the floor, stunned. "Why did you cut up all our photos?"

Sylvia didn't bother making up an excuse. She simply stated that the photos had become blurry from dampness and weren't worth keeping. We could take new ones later.

Her calm tone made him uneasy. He didn't know whether to believe her.

On the third day, she asked the housekeeper to clear out all the matching couple items: mugs, scarves, clothes, and keychains from the cabinets, then throw them all away.

When Adrien asked, she simply said they'd gotten moldy to brush him off.

A few days later, she donated every gift from him to charity, saying the styles were outdated and he could buy her new ones later.

As the days went by, more and more things were cleared out.

Sylvia's belongings once filled the room. Now they were removed one after another until nothing was left.

Yet, Adrien noticed none of it.

On the anniversary of her parents' passing, Adrien went with her to the cemetery.

When he listened to her speak at their graves, a strange unease settled over him.

"Mom, Dad, I hope you're doing well in paradise. Don't worry about me. We'll probably see each other again soon."

He remembered how she used to talk about missing them. He felt something was off.

He was about to ask what she meant when a familiar voice interrupted from behind, "Adrien, Sylvia, what a coincidence."

Distracted, he forgot what he was going to say.

Kiersten stood a few steps away, looking pale and hurt.

Adrien saw her unsteady left foot, and a look of concern and distress crossed his face. "What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"

"I came to visit my grandmother. I tripped in the rain and sprained my ankle."

Hearing her distressed tone, Adrien instinctively stepped forward to support her.

Tears glistened in Kiersten's eyes. "Adrien, could you take me to the hospital?"

His heart went out to her. He agreed immediately, turning briefly to Sylvia.

"Syl, stay and talk with your parents. I'll be right back after I take her to the hospital."

Without asking Sylvia's opinion, he and Kiersten left her alone in the cemetery.

Sylvia waited three hours, but Adrien never came back.

In the afternoon, a light rain began to fall. Losing patience, she decided to wheel herself down the mountain.

Although the cemetery had accessible pathways, the slope was steep. She misjudged her strength, and the wheelchair hit a railing and tipped over.

She tumbled all the way down the path, scraping her hands and face. A cut on her forehead bled steadily, the blood washed away by the rain.

Lying alone on the ground, unnoticed, she could do nothing but watch the raindrops fall.

The cold made her shiver uncontrollably. She bit her lip to hold back the pain spreading across her body.

But time dragged on painfully slow.

She didn't know how long she'd been lying there. Just when she thought she would freeze to death, Adrien finally came rushing back, holding an umbrella. He scooped her up and apologized with deep remorse.

Sylvia stared at him, her eyes hollow and lifeless.

"If my legs were still healthy, I might have been able to leave this place today."

By the age of 18, Sylvia had changed entirely from the bright, lively girl she once was into someone unrecognizable.

Adrien's heart sank. Shame and guilt washed over him. He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

He slapped himself hard across the face.

"I'm sorry, Syl. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again."

Over the next few days, Adrien's guilt flared up again. He stayed by her side constantly.

Whether she was sunbathing or lost in thought, he was there. He brought her coffee, attended to her every need, and responded to every random thought she mentioned.

It almost felt like how things were seven years ago, before the accident.

But Sylvia knew better. Life didn't offer second chances.

And all he was doing now was just temporary. It wouldn't last.

Thus, she just watched silently, counting the days, waiting for the final day to come.

On Christmas Eve, their plane landed in Switzerland.

They had just reached the hotel when Adrien took a phone call.

Half an hour later, he came out, grabbed his luggage, and turned to go. He mentioned only that he had an urgent matter to attend to at the company.

Seeing how rushed he was, Sylvia asked softly, "Do you really have to go?"

Without hesitation, his voice firm, Adrien replied, "It's urgent, Syl. Enjoy the snow by yourself for now. I'll come back for you tomorrow."

Sylvia didn't try to stop him.

She also didn't tell him that she'd be gone tomorrow.

She sat alone by the hotel's floor-to-ceiling window all night, but the forecasted first snow never came.

At dawn, she received a message from Kiersten—a photo taken in a hospital room.

Adrien was sitting beside her, patiently peeling an orange for her, a tender smile in his eyes.

Sylvia stared at the photo for a long time.

When the sun rose, she rolled her wheelchair out of the hotel and made her way to Dignitas.

Before entering, she took one last look at the sky. Still, there was no sign of the snow she'd been waiting for.

Was everything a lie? Not just Adrien, but even the weather forecast proved untrustworthy.

On the last day of her life, she still didn't get to see the first snow.

A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. Then she turned and slowly wheeled herself inside, toward her death.

Soon, the staff gently helped her onto the bed.

As part of the procedure, they asked her a few final questions.

"Ms. Rhodes, is there anyone you would like to see?"

"No."

"Do you have any last words you would like us to pass on?"

"No."

"Is there any unfulfilled wish we can help you with?"

"No."

She answered every question calmly. She had no final words for Adrien.

As the staff prepared the medication, she spoke softly, "After I'm gone, please have me cremated immediately. You don't need to bury the ashes. When the first snow finally falls, just scatter my ashes somewhere. Thank you."

They agreed. The room fell silent.

A slight sting spread from her hand, then faded quickly.

Her consciousness began to fade.

Countless images flashed through her mind: a running teenager, childhood games, the scorching afternoon sun, a noisy classroom...

Gradually, all sounds and images dissolved into a hazy, endless mist that wrapped around her.

She drifted in that quiet, weightless mist.

Then, gently, she closed her eyes. And everything went still.