One year after their breakup, Kathleen Gonzalez called Paul Astor for the first time and spoke only two sentences.

The first: "Happy wedding."

The second: "You promised you'd carry my coffin when I die."

...

"Your assisted suicide application call got routed to me."

Paul's voice was icy through the phone: "Was this pointless stunt worth it just to reach me?"

In her empty apartment, Kathleen pressed a hand to her nose. Blood dripped between her fingers onto her phone screen, staining it crimson.

Her trembling finger wiped the blood away. She stared at Paul's name for several seconds before rasping, "I'm sorry."

Silence hung briefly before his reply: "Kathleen, we broke up a year ago."

She froze, vision blurring unexpectedly.

He was reminding her—as if she could forget.

That night a year ago, under a torrential downpour, Paul had coldly told her "it's over" out of the blue.

She'd stood outside his doorstep, drenched in rain, waiting all night.

A neighbor finally told her Paul had left the country immediately after ending things.

Not even a reason. Not even a goodbye.

If not for this call, he never would have contacted her again.

Kathleen stared at the chilly rain outside the window, feeling transported back to that day, her throat choked with unspeakable words.

After a long silence, she finally replied, "I know."

"So if you want to die, do it far away. Don't bother telling me."

Paul hung up without mercy after his icy remark.

The dial tone echoed like drumbeats, each pulse hammering against Kathleen's heart.

She remained crouched on the floor for ages before rising to wash the blood from her face.

As cold water splashed her skin, the phone rang again—this time from the Swiss assisted dying clinic.

"Apologies for calling your emergency contact after failing to reach you at noon."

Kathleen answered wearily, "It's fine."

Noon was precisely when she'd been mid-flight to Switzerland.

"For euthanasia approval, we require documented proof of your condition. You'll also need local examinations here."

Studying her pallid reflection, Kathleen murmured, "Understood."

She hailed a cab to the hospital after hanging up.

Through the car window, the silhouette of the towering Alps emerged along Swiss streets.

Years ago, she'd endlessly told Paul about visiting this snow-kissed city.

Never had she imagined it would become her final chapter.

The test results came back quickly: bone-metastasized leukemia, treatment no longer viable.

Kathleen habitually tucked the diagnosis report into her bag under the sympathetic gazes of the doctors.

Just as she turned to leave, her footsteps froze mid-stride, breath catching in her throat.

She never imagined she'd see Paul again.

There he stood at the end of the hallway, still wearing the coat she'd bought him. After a year apart, he seemed even more composed.

That handsome yet aloof face, those deep, detached eyes.

Every feature had haunted her dreams throughout the year, waking her tear-stained night after night.

Kathleen's vision blurred instantly as deliberately buried memories flooded her mind.

From the 1,530 babys-breath stars Paul folded for her, to his unwavering daily "good morning" and "good night" texts throughout their seven-year relationship, to that time he drove four hundred miles through a snowstorm just because she'd whispered "I miss you."

She'd believed their love would last forever—until that day when Paul walked away without looking back, leaving her screaming and pleading in vain as he vanished into his first and final cold silhouette.

All those memories Kathleen thought she could forget if she just forced herself hard enough.

The moment she saw Paul, the bitterness she'd been holding back surged up, threatening to drown her heart.

She bit her lip, thinking, Switzerland is such a small place.

Paul noticed her too. After a slight pause, he frowned and walked over.

Kathleen’s heart trembled. Before she could speak, Paul’s cold voice cut through: "I told you not to show your face around me again."

His expression was icy, his sharp features radiating an unapproachable chill.

Kathleen slowly clenched her hands. "I'm just here for a check-up."

"A check-up?"

Paul didn’t buy it.

"Are lies all you have?

I made myself clear a year ago—I don’t love you. Was hounding me multiple times not enough?

Tracking me down to Switzerland only makes me sick."

The color drained from Kathleen’s face.

A year ago, she truly couldn’t accept his sudden breakup and had tried everything to find him.

But this time was different.

She looked at Paul, her throat tightening. Before she could explain, another voice chimed in.

"Paul."

Kathleen froze, turning to see a woman stride over and loop her arm through Paul’s.

The woman glanced at Kathleen, then asked Paul sweetly, "Paul, who’s this?"

She didn’t recognize Kathleen, but Kathleen knew exactly who she was.

She's Paul's girlfriend, or rather, his current girlfriend—Rachel Scott.

Paul parted his lips: "Ex—"

"Neighbors."

Kathleen cut him off, murmuring: "We're just former neighbors."

Paul paused, his gaze darkened, but said nothing.

Rachel stepped forward with a smile, extending her hand: "Hello, I'm Paul's fiancée."

She emphasized "fiancée" deliberately.

Kathleen looked down to see a ring on Rachel's finger.

The pink diamond refracted blinding sunlight, stinging Kathleen's eyes.

She asked instinctively: "You're getting married?"

Rachel beamed: "Yes, Paul proposed last month."

"Oh... congratulations."

Kathleen lifted her eyes to Paul, forcing lightness: "What's the date?"

Paul studied her briefly before stating flatly:

"July 1st."

Kathleen froze as if a knife plunged into her heart.

Her faltering smile shattered completely.

July 1st.

That was the day of her euthanasia.

July 1st was a truly special date.

That day marked Kathleen's birthday.

Three years ago on that very day, Paul had proposed to her.

She might never forget that night.

Candle flames flickered around the cake decorated with her beloved starry sky...

Twenty-three-year-old Paul knelt on the floor, piling all his worldly possessions before her with utmost reverence.

"This is my car, my property deed, and this card holds all my assets."

The dim candlelight cast shadows on his youthful face as he took a deep breath, gathering courage to look up at her.

"I thought the timing and setting mattered most, but later realized only you mattered. I know you've always wanted to visit Switzerland, but I can't wait any longer. We could marry there. Right now, I just need to know..."

"Kathleen, will you marry me?"

Memories flashed before her eyes frame by frame.

Now they stood together on Swiss soil as promised.

Paul walked toward marriage while she walked toward death.

Kathleen gazed at Paul—the same face, yet bearing no trace of the man she once knew.

She drew a sharp breath, tears streaming inside though none fell from her eyes.

Smiling through the pain, she said: "Congratulations. I wish you happiness."

The wind in the hospital corridor wailed, not knowing for whom it cried.

After leaving the hospital, Kathleen went to a medical institution to deliver documents.

A staff member took the documents: "When performing euthanasia, a relative needs to be present..."

As he spoke, he looked behind Kathleen where no one was, his gaze pausing.

Kathleen hummed in agreement.

"I can do it alone."

The staff member said nothing more, sighing softly.

"You have three days left... enjoy your final moments."

After leaving the institution, Kathleen received a call from Paul.

She froze for a few seconds before answering.

There was no speech on the other end, only faint breathing, yet Kathleen's eyes reddened.

She cursed herself inwardly for being useless, took a deep breath, then called out shakily: "Paul..."

The next moment, Rachel's voice came through: "It's not him, it's me."

As if doused with cold water, Kathleen snapped awake: "Sorry, what's up?"

"Tomorrow Paul and I are going to pick a wedding dress. He has bad taste, and I have no female friends around. I want you to help me choose, okay?"

Rachel's voice on the phone was sweet.

Kathleen clenched her phone, instinctively wanting to refuse: "I..."

But before she could finish, Paul's flat tone cut her off: "Ten tomorrow morning. Location texted."

He hung up without giving her any chance to decline.

Moments later, Kathleen received Paul's location pin and five thousand yuan.

Accompanying it was a message: "Payment. Don't want Rachel upset. Please."

She stared at those words, rooted in place for a long moment before replying: "Okay."

The next day, Kathleen arrived at the bridal shop as agreed.

She sat on the sofa watching Rachel flip through a wedding album, asking Paul with a smile if each gown looked nice.

Paul gazed at her tenderly, approving every single one.

Kathleen froze, suddenly remembering long ago.

Paul had once shown her wedding dress pictures too, grinning as he promised she'd be the world's most beautiful bride.

Back then, the warmth in his eyes could drown a person. Lost in that gaze, she truly believed they'd walk down the aisle.

Never imagined that a year later, she'd be the ex-girlfriend intruding on Paul's happiness.

Waves of pain shot through Kathleen's chest. She looked away, unwilling to watch—but Rachel thrust the chosen photos before her eyes.

Kathleen glanced down at the catalog. Rachel had chosen the exact set she once said she loved.

So was that why Paul refused it?

The words slipped out before she could stop them: "You still remember..."

"Remember what?"

Paul arched an eyebrow, tone flat as he cut her off. "I just think the design's outdated."

Kathleen stared at his icy expression.

After a long pause, she nodded. "Yes. It's outdated."

The design was outdated.

And so was the person.

She tried to force a polite smile to brush off the moment, but her lips wouldn't cooperate. She lowered her head to hide her face.

Then her nose suddenly felt warm. Crimson droplets splattered across the catalog pages.

She froze mid-reach for a tissue.

Paul shot to his feet.

"What's wrong with you?"

Kathleen's heart skipped a beat. She quickly turned her face away to hide.

Paul walked up to her and snatched the album from her hand.

She saw him frown at the bloodstains on it.

Only then did Kathleen realize he was actually concerned about the album.

"Sorry... I accidentally dirtied it."

Kathleen said with a trembling voice.

Rachel immediately handed over a tissue and scolded Paul, "Why are you still caring about that?

Kathleen, do you need to go to the hospital?"

Kathleen shook her head, took the tissue and pressed it to her nose. "It's just a cold and some inflammation. It'll stop in a moment."

Saying something like "terminal illness" to her ex-boyfriend who was about to get married would only cause unnecessary trouble.

Paul didn't speak, just frowned and looked at Kathleen's pale face.

Kathleen went to the bathroom and stopped the bleeding.

When she came out, Rachel had already changed into a wedding dress.

She hadn't chosen the one she said she liked before, but had put on another wedding dress and spun around in front of Paul with a smile.

"How do I look?"

Paul gazed at her tenderly. "Beautiful."

His eyes reflected Rachel's image, as if the moment she appeared, his world contained only one person.

Kathleen suddenly felt suffocated. She said in a low voice, "I have something to do. I need to leave now."

"Wait!"

Rachel called out to her: "Paul and I don't have many friends in Switzerland. Since we've bumped into an old friend, would you be my bridesmaid?"

Kathleen's fingers trembled: "Sorry, my visa will expire by then."

She couldn't bring herself to be her ex-boyfriend's bridesmaid.

Rachel sighed, disappointment heavy in her voice: "Oh... what a shame. Let's catch up another time."

Kathleen forced a pale smile: "Sure."

She grabbed her purse and walked out. At the doorway, she glanced back one last time at Paul.

He remained on the sofa, not sparing her a single glance—just as coldly indifferent as when they'd broken up.

The automatic door clunked shut.

It sealed her and Paul into two separate worlds.

Kathleen swallowed her tears and headed toward the hotel.

Swiss streets lay quiet, but passersby wore carefree smiles.

As Kathleen walked, a tavern suddenly caught her eye.

Her steps faltered, then carried her inside.

She'd loved drinking once, but stopped after her diagnosis. Expecting to drown herself in liquor, just one bottle left her nauseous.

Staggering to pay, she noticed the photo-covered wall behind the bartender—filled with couples' photos.

The bearded owner smiled warmly: "Couples get free photos at our tavern."

Kathleen shook her head, about to say she was alone when her gaze suddenly froze.

At the top of the photo wall was a picture of Paul and Rachel together.

Dated: 2024.3.11.

Back then, she and Paul hadn't broken up yet!

A buzzing sound filled Kathleen's mind, leaving her utterly blank.

She stood completely paralyzed, a chill spreading through her veins.

The owner kept talking, but she heard nothing.

Stumbling outside, a man suddenly approached: "Miss, I've noticed you. Care to get acquainted at my place?"

She shook her head, but he grabbed her arm: "Do me a favor, Miss."

He started pulling Kathleen toward his car.

"Let go of me!"

Kathleen struggled violently, nearly dragged inside.

Someone abruptly yanked the man away, then knocked him to the ground with one punch, voice icy.

"Get lost!"

Watching the man slink off, Paul frowned at Kathleen.

Kathleen stared at him blankly. After a long pause, she finally snapped back to reality. "Thanks."

Her voice cracked. "But I'm glad I chose this bar. Otherwise you wouldn't have saved me."

Paul frowned. "Just say what you mean."

A sardonic smile touched her lips. "March 11, 2024. I never knew you were already with Rachel back then."

Her bloodshot eyes locked onto him. "Paul... So even someone like you cheats."

Paul's dark eyes turned inscrutable as silence hung between them.

Tears welling, Kathleen's smile vanished. She shoved him violently. "Say something!"

Her trembling fingertips betrayed her fury, but Paul merely stepped back, watching her calmly. "You saw everything yourself."

That icy statement choked off all her words.

Kathleen gaped at him in disbelief.

Paul lifted his gaze to meet hers, his tone flat.

"I cheated. Before we broke up, I fell for Rachel. That's your answer. Are you happy now?"

A sharp pain stabbed Kathleen's chest, making it hard to breathe. A lump choked her into silence.

She thought she'd made peace with the past. She thought nothing Paul did could hurt her anymore...

Turns out, he could still be crueler.

Kathleen bit her lip hard, tears still escaping.

She wiped them away fiercely. "Alright. Got it."

As she turned to leave, her vision blurred. Then she crumpled to the floor.

In the haze, Paul's voice called her name.

When she woke again, she was in a hospital.

Kathleen stared at the white ceiling before turning her head. Paul stood by her bed.

He held her medical chart, his face stony.

Kathleen's heart seized as Paul looked up at her, his voice icy.

"Stay home if you have a fever."

Swiss doctors valued patient privacy, so they hadn't disclosed her condition to Paul.

Kathleen snapped back to reality, relieved. "Got it. Thanks."

"Sick people need care."

Paul glanced at her. "Your parents aren't answering."

Kathleen froze. After a long pause, she murmured, "They're gone."

Paul stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Kathleen gazed out the window, expression blank.

"Two months after our breakup, they died in a car crash."

Then two months later, her diagnosis came—followed by endless chemo and suffocating darkness.

Paul's face went utterly pale, his eyes locked on hers.

The silence stretched until his clenched fingers finally relaxed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Kathleen scoffed. "We're not together anymore. It's none of your concern."

Paul fell quiet again, lowering his lashes as he set a lunchbox beside her.

"Let's eat."

Kathleen opened it, teeth-chattering. Every dish inside was her favorite.

Her heart jolted violently. She took two slow bites, feeling the tip of her nose tingling with acidity. The more she ate, the more it stung.

She set down her chopsticks and asked Paul, "You still have something to say, don't you?"

Paul's eyes dimmed slightly before he spoke. "Rachel was... thrilled to see you. So I hope you'll reconsider being her bridesmaid. I'll handle the visa issues. Any other requests, just name them."

Kathleen's fingertips tightened gradually. "Do you want me there too?"

"I don't want to disappoint Rachel."

Words failed Kathleen. The delicious food before her now tasted like pure bitterness.

Paul, oh Paul. Since when did you become so cruel?

First that heartless breakup, now forcing her to witness you marrying another woman.

Kathleen's vision blurred. She sniffled and looked away. "Fine. As long as you promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"Take a photo with me."

Such a simple request, yet Paul frowned slightly.

Seemed he remembered their past conversation about "cheating."

Back then she'd solemnly warned him:

"If you dare cheat after we marry, I'll take everything—house, car, leave you to starve."

Just a joke back then.

But Paul looked at her dead serious: "If that day ever comes, put our photos at my wedding. Expose me as a scumbag and ruin my reputation."

Neither imagined that day would truly arrive.

Kathleen watched Paul's conflicted expression, her eyes stinging. "Relax, they're just ordinary photos."

—Just ordinary funeral portraits.

She still couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew he cheated. They'd even discussed revenge plans.

Yet seeing Paul again, she remained helpless.

Kathleen wanted her final photo taken by Lake Geneva with the pristine Alps in view.

Paul drove her to the lakeside, where she spotted Rachel.

Startled, Kathleen froze as Rachel beamed at her.

"Paul said you'll be my bridesmaid! I'm thrilled! But he's terrible at photos—let me take them?"

Kathleen stayed silent. Anyone could take the shot, yet last night's bar photo flashed in her mind.

Her words caught in her throat. "I want... Paul to take it."

She felt a bit wicked, wanting just this little bit of revenge...

Paul silently watched her for a moment before turning to Rachel. "I'll be quick."

Kathleen stood by the lakeside, the wind biting cold.

She pressed her lips together, forcing a smile, trying to appear happier.

Just as Paul clicked the shutter, Rachel suddenly clutched her chest. "Paul... I feel unwell..."

Kathleen watched Paul's expression shift instantly. He dropped the camera, rushed to Rachel's side, scooped her up anxiously, and headed for the car.

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

Kathleen stood frozen, staring as Paul carried Rachel into the vehicle.

The car roared away, vanishing from her sight within seconds.

After a long pause, Kathleen picked up the camera and scrolled through the photos.

One blurred image showed indistinguishable silhouettes.

This was her final photograph.

Staring at the picture, icy wind seemed to pierce her bones, chilling her throat until it ached.

Much later, she finally pocketed the camera, hailed a taxi, and went to the euthanasia agency.

"The contract states the deceased may request one final wish."

The staff nodded. "Yes, we'll fulfill it if possible."

Kathleen smiled faintly, veiling the tears in her eyes.

She leaned toward the director and whispered softly.

"I hope Paul will carry the coffin at my funeral."

Kathleen kept Paul's number and stepped out of the building.

The moment she hit the street, Paul's text arrived with a church address.

"Wedding rehearsal. Bridesmaids required."

She hailed a cab to the chapel.

Inside the dressing room, Paul and Rachel were discussing bouquet choices.

Kathleen felt a pang in her chest.

The chapel, doves, floral arrangements—all seemed ordinary at first glance.

Yet every detail revealed meticulous care, painstakingly crafted.

When Paul truly loved someone, he would give his all.

Kathleen approached them from behind.

Rachel turned and beamed. "Look who's here!

Perfect timing—check if my jewelry's on right... Oh!

Forgot the bracelet!"

She smacked her forehead, rummaged through the jewelry box, and produced a chain.

Kathleen froze at the sight.

That was... the couple's bracelet she'd designed for Paul and herself two years ago!

He'd promised to have it crafted for their seventh anniversary.

Her mind went blank. "Where... did this come from?"

"This? Paul gave it to me."

Rachel put on the bracelet and nestled softly against Paul's shoulder: "Last year during a blackout, Paul stayed with me all night. That's when we got together, and he gave me this bracelet."

"What date was that?"

Kathleen managed to ask.

Rachel answered after a moment's thought: "February 17th."

A sharp crack echoed in Kathleen's ears as her heart shattered into pieces.

February 17th, the night marking their seventh anniversary together.

Kathleen stared blankly at the bracelet, feeling as if a sharp knife were twisting inside her chest—too painful to speak.

Just then, someone called for Rachel outside, and Rachel stepped out.

Only Kathleen and Paul remained in the room.

Amidst the silence, Kathleen whispered, "On our anniversary, you told me you were on emergency duty."

Confusion and disbelief tinged her voice. "So how did you end up at Rachel's place that night?"

Paul stayed quiet for a moment before admitting, "I lied to you."

Kathleen froze. "Oh. So that department dinner story was fake too?"

"It was Rachel's birthday."

Paul's tone remained unnervingly calm.

"We'd just returned from Japan. She proposed marriage, so I broke up with you the next day. Want more details?"

He recounted each betrayal with detached indifference.

Kathleen's throat tightened as if stuffed with cotton. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

Here he stood—serenely stabbing knives into her heart without flinching.

Every cherished memory died in that instant, slaughtered completely by Paul's nonchalance.

Kathleen's heart ached so fiercely she could hardly breathe. She bit her lip hard, but still couldn't control her cry.

"Why?"

Why was he doing this to her?

She clearly hadn't done anything wrong, so why was he treating her like this!

Paul looked at her quietly: "Does the answer matter?"

Kathleen trembled all over, her vision blurring.

If it were a year ago, she would've grabbed Paul by the collar demanding, "How dare you be so self-righteous?"

"Don't you feel any guilt at all?"

But now, she couldn't do it.

Because she was going to die.

In a few days, she would die.

So indeed, the answers to all this no longer mattered.

The door opened again, and Rachel walked in, looking at them strangely: "The rehearsal's started. What were you talking about?"

Kathleen averted her gaze, wiped away her tears, and walked straight out.

During the rehearsal, she stood in the corner, listening to the host arrange the wedding details.

"The bride will enter through this door, then the bridesmaid will place her hand into the groom's."

"After that, the couple stands here for vows. Groom, do you remember your vows?"

Kathleen, who'd been lost in thought, snapped back to reality. She looked up and saw Paul onstage take Rachel's hand, saying with utmost devotion.

“I am willing to take this beautiful woman before me as my wife, to comfort her, protect her, cherish her, and treasure her as a precious jewel, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty, to be steadfast to her forever.”

As he spoke these words, the tenderness in his eyes was like an ocean, deep enough to drown one in its affection and sweetness.

Kathleen stood rigidly, as if even breathing came with pain.

This scene before her was the wedding she had fantasized about countless times.

This very man, just ten minutes ago, had revealed to her such a cruel past.

And now, she had to witness their happy moment with her own eyes.

It was truly, utterly ironic.

Kathleen took a deep breath and turned to leave.

At that moment, she heard the host call out.

"Next, please invite the bridesmaid to the stage to give a speech to the newlyweds!"

The moment the words fell, all eyes instantly locked onto Kathleen.

Kathleen stood rigidly frozen, unable to move an inch.

Just then, her phone rang abruptly. "Excuse me," she said immediately, "something's come up. I need to leave."

With that, she grabbed her phone and fled like escaping.

Only after stepping outside did she answer the call—it was from the medical institution.

"Ms. Kathleen, we offer two passing methods. This call is to confirm whether you prefer injection or medication."

Kathleen closed her eyes briefly, murmuring, "Injection."

Medication tasted too bitter.

Though she'd tasted all the bitterness life has to offer, she still feared bitterness most.

After hanging up, Kathleen turned to leave but found Paul standing behind her.

"Let me drive you back."

Silence hung thick throughout the car ride.

When they reached the hotel entrance, Kathleen moved to exit, but Paul caught her wrist.

"There's a fountain here. Let me retake your photo."

Kathleen wanted to refuse, yet meeting Paul's gaze, the words died in her throat.

As she stood by the fountain, Paul pulled out his phone. Just before clicking the shutter, he admitted:

"Truth is, Rachel specifically asked me to retake this for you.

She still blames herself for interrupting your last photo session."

Kathleen froze: "What are you trying to say?"

Paul paused, his gaze turning profound: "She doesn't know about us. Don't hold any hostility toward her."

So, him escorting her back to the hotel was also for Rachel's sake.

He feared she'd resent or retaliate against Rachel.

Kathleen felt suffocated. She lowered her head, speaking numbly: "I won't. Don't worry."

Paul neither agreed nor disagreed. After taking photos, he walked Kathleen into the hotel.

Waiting for the elevator,

Paul added: "When we came to Switzerland before, we stayed at this same hotel. Rachel has health issues... this place has a dedicated medical wing—"

His voice carried a tinge of heartache.

"Ding—" The elevator doors slid open.

"It's here."

Kathleen cut him off, refusing to meet his eyes as she strode inside.

The doors closed swiftly, crimson numbers flickering upward floor by floor.

At that moment, Kathleen could no longer maintain composure. She staggered.

Warm liquid dripped onto her hand. Looking down, she confirmed it was blood.

Back in her room, Kathleen opened the medicine bottle, tipping out the last two pills.

Only after thirty minutes did they stop the nosebleed.

Fresh from washing her face, her phone chimed with a cloud storage notification.

"Tomorrow is my birthday again. What has happened in these past two years?"

Kathleen froze for a moment, then opened the photo album.

The first thing she saw was a photo from her birthday two years ago.

In the dim candlelight, her dad was there, her mom was there, and Paul was there too...

She stood among them, beaming like she owned the whole world.

Kathleen stared blankly at the photo until tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

She wiped her eyes and opened the door to find Paul standing outside.

The dim hallway light caught the edges of his eyes and brows, making him look as coolly handsome as in the photo.

Kathleen's heart lurched. She was about to speak when she spotted Rachel beside him.

She snapped back to reality and tightened her grip on the doorknob.

"What brings you here?"

Rachel lifted a small cake, leaning against Paul's shoulder as she walked in.

"We just found out your birthday's tomorrow. So awful of us to make you attend our wedding! We brought cake to celebrate early."

Kathleen eyed the cream cake in her hand and felt queasy.

Greasy food had been impossible for her to stomach since chemotherapy began.

Kathleen hesitated, "I'm sorry, I—"

Before she could refuse, Paul took the cake and shoved it into her hands.

"Rachel bought this personally. Don't waste it."

Kathleen froze under Paul's unyielding gaze and reluctantly accepted it.

She took a bite, the greasy cream coating her tongue. Gripping her fork, she forced a smile.

"It's delicious. Thank you."

"Right? Paul took me to every bakery in town to find the best one," Rachel beamed. "He seems dull, but he's so romantic! He reserved all the baby's breath flowers in the city for our wedding cake, even designed the ring himself. Who taught a doctor all this..."

Each word made the sweet cake taste increasingly bitter in Kathleen's mouth.

The cake... the baby's breath... the designs...

Everything she'd personally taught Paul. Now she watched him give it all to another woman.

Kathleen stared at Paul's expressionless face, her knuckles whitening.

She strained to keep her voice flat. "Probably picked it up from a friend."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, about to speak, when Paul took her hand and led her away.

Kathleen asked one more question.

Paul glanced at her: "Ten in the morning."

Kathleen froze, then glanced down at her phone. Ten minutes ago, the medical institution had texted:

"You have scheduled assisted dying for tomorrow at 10:00 AM"

Kathleen pursed her lips, unsure what she was feeling at that moment.

Paul asked, puzzled, "What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, forcing a calm smile. "Nothing."

Paul studied her intently before bending down to whisper something to Rachel. Rachel nodded and walked away.

Only after Rachel had gone did Paul approach Kathleen, handing her a plane ticket.

"Return home after the wedding."

Kathleen froze, then uttered in disbelief, "You're worried I'll ruin things for you?"

Paul's eyes darkened, neither confirming nor denying. "I won't risk any complications between Rachel and me."

A sharp pain stabbed Kathleen's heart.

She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears that still welled up despite her efforts.

She couldn't possibly ruin anything—her time had already run out.

Kathleen exhaled heavily, meeting Paul's gaze as she spoke deliberately, "Paul..."

He looked down at her, his eyes shadowed.

His intense stare seemed to choke Kathleen's chest, and she remained silent for a long, long moment.

Finally, with a teary-eyed smile, she whispered, "Paul... I wish you a joyful wedding."

After Paul left, Kathleen returned to her room, staring at the uneaten cake on the table.

The cream on the cake had long melted and collapsed, chocolate crumbs scattering across the table.

Kathleen stood frozen for a moment before walking over and sitting down to eat it bite by bite.

The clock had struck midnight – today was her birthday.

Happy birthday to you, Kathleen.

You're about to die on your very birthday.

Staring at the empty hotel suite, Kathleen finished the last bite of cake, tears having long streaked her face.

Her twenty-seventh year. Her mere twenty-seven years.

The next morning, Kathleen checked out early.

Switzerland was indeed small; stepping outside revealed rows of wedding cars.

Gold-lettered characters adorned the vehicles: "Congratulations Paul & Rachel on your wedding!"

Kathleen studied the procession briefly before turning away to hail a taxi to the medical facility.

Medical staff stood ready.

Kathleen chose a room with windows framing the distant Alps in sharp relief.

Lying on the bed, she received a controller after final preparations.

"Push the switch forward," instructed the clinician. "You'll fall asleep within thirty seconds."

"Permanent departure occurs around four minutes. Pull the switch back to abort anytime before."

"Any final words or letters? We'll ensure delivery."

Kathleen froze, wanting to say no one would care to hear her last words.

But as the words reached her lips, they took a detour.

"Then wait for the pallbearer. Tell him to bury me beside my parents."

Let her return to Mom and Dad, reuniting the family.

After speaking, Kathleen took one last look at the distant azure sky before resolutely flipping the switch.

Cool liquid flowed into her veins. She felt no pain, only cold. Bone-chilling cold.

In her daze, distant church bells seemed to toll.

Melodic echoes reverberated in her ears. She knew Paul's wedding had begun.

On her birthday. On her death day.

Twin tears trailed from the corners of her eyes as Kathleen slowly closed them, never to open again.

Meanwhile, at the church.

"I can't reach Kathleen! What now?"

Rachel fidgeted anxiously. "The ceremony starts in minutes! She wouldn't bail on being my maid of honor, would she?"

Paul stared at his unresponsive phone, pressing his lips tight as he turned toward the exit. "I'll find her."

"Just forget it!"

Rachel called after him. "We don't need a maid of honor. Don't delay your own wedding."

Paul paused in silence, an inexplicable unease coiling in his chest.

He glanced out the window, still anxious: "I'll be right back, won't take long."

He stepped toward the door, but Rachel suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Paul!

What are you trying to do?

Don't forget what you promised me!"

Rachel clutched Paul's hand desperately: "My parents and brother died because of you!

Are you trying to abandon me now?

!"

Paul froze, his feet suddenly feeling like lead, impossible to lift.

He pressed his lips tight, and after a long pause, stiffly retracted his leg.

Just then, deafening church bells shattered the silence, startling a flock of birds from the trees.

Everyone jolted in surprise.

Paul counted thirteen solemn tolls—distinctly funeral bells!

An inexplicable dread coiled around his heart.

The next instant, a church announcement echoed through the air:

"Today, a visitor from distant US has chosen to peacefully depart this world within our walls. Let us pray for her, that the Lord may welcome her soul into heaven."

"Her name is Kathleen."