Don’t correct her.
And that’s when I feel the shift.
The fear deepening, turning into something raw and paralyzing.
“Chase,” she says again, louder now, stumbling back a step. “Don’t do this. Don’t just stand there and look at me like that. Tell me it’s not true.”
My eyes flutter closed. I exhale like the words are knives in my chest.
“It’s a tumor,” I finally say. “Glioma. Along the optic chiasm.”
And for the first time, I’m grateful I can’t see her clearly.
Because I don’t think I could survive the look in her eyes.
The black storms swirling in crystal-blue seas.
She chokes on a sob.
“It’s low-grade on paper, but aggressive as hell,” I continue. “The kind that usually shows up in kids, not grown men. And when itdoesshow up in adults—especially along the optic pathway—it hits harder, faster. It’s not always fatal, but this one’s pressing on all the wrong nerves in all the wrong places. If it spreads deeper, I’m done.” Tears pool in my eyes and spill over, unchecked. My knees threaten to give out, but I stay standing, if only to prove I still can. “The vision loss is permanent. I don’t see people anymore, Annie. Just shapes. Movement. You’re a silhouette in front of a dying sun. The streaks in your hair are the only thing I recognize. The rest is…gone. Your beautiful face. Your eyes. The way you looked at me like I was worth saving, worth loving. It’s torture. It’s worse than death.”
My legs give out.
I collapse in the middle of the room, elbows on my knees and head in my hands.
Annie buckles in front of me, clutching my face. “Listen to me,” she begs, choking on tears. “Listen. Please. There’s still time. You can see a doctor, you can—”
“Ihave,” I say, sharper. “I sat in a white room with one of the top neurosurgeons in the country. He looked me in the eye and told me to get my affairs in order. That if the vision loss is all I get, I should be grateful.”
She croaks.
Speechless. Wordless. Stewing in disbelief and denial.
“Even though it’s technically low-grade, it’s in the worst possible place. They can’t get near it without cutting through things that control basic functions—speech, memory, movement. One wrong move and I’m not just blind. I’m gone.”
“No…” She shakes her head, squeezing me tighter, trying to evict the trespasser in my head with nothing but love and hope and futile words. “No. That’s not…there are second opinions. Treatments. Trials. We can fly anywhere. I’ll make the calls.”
My forehead drops to hers. “I’m scared,” I admit, just a whisper. “I can’t play. Can’t build. Can’t drive. I miss steps. I hate the dark. And sometimes…sometimes I wonder if it would’ve been easier if I’d never met you. At least you wouldn’t have to carry around this burden of falling in love with a dying man.”
She pulls me to her, wraps me up in warmth and begging, until my face falls against her shoulder. “You don’t get to lie down and wait to die, Chase. Not when I’m right here, telling you to fight. Not when there’s still hope.”
“I don’t want that. I can’t carry the weight of someone else’s hope. I’m barely surviving my own reality, and I refuse to let you be tied to a walking death sentence.”
She grabs my face. “You idiot,” she breathes. “You beautiful, broken idiot. I’m not tying myself to a man. I’m loving him.”
The breath stutters out of me, sharp and broken.
I close my eyes.
My forehead slides against her as I cradle the back of her head. “My sister,” I say, chest heavy. “She didn’t just drown.”
Annie pauses, then pulls back. “What do you mean?”
“It’s what we believed,” I say. “What everyone believed, even though she was a strong swimmer. We thought she was just dehydrated. Sick. Tired. That it was a tragic accident.” I pause, swallowing hard. “But after I left town, my cousin started getting brutal headaches. He got checked out, and they caught it. Same tumor, low-grade, in his optic pathway. His is treatable due to the tumor’s location. He’s still alive.”
Annie doesn’t speak, doesn’t move.
“My parents had Stella’s autopsy reexamined. Brought in someone new. And this time…” My throat tightens. “They found it. A tiny mass. High-grade glioma, buried deep. It was missed the first time, but it was there. And it wasn’t benign. Likely caused a stroke or an aneurysm.”
