Dying, I Made a Billionaire's Regret

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My life was already counting down to zero, and I wanted to retrace the Sahara trip Kent and I had once promised each other back when we were in love.

The first day I only wandered the nearby market before my body gave out, and I cut the trip short to go back and rest at the hotel.

Scrolling through my feed, I came across a video of Kent Hughes proposing under the stars to Cynthia Swanson, my best friend from college.

The lit-up sign glowing behind him stabbed at my heart.

*Thank you for standing by me through the hardest three years.*

Back when I made myself leave him, he'd said with red eyes,

"Sylvia Floyd, you have no heart! I'll never forgive myself for this in my whole life."

So it turned out that in the three years after, Cynthia had been the one beside him the entire time.

In the comments, old friends piled on one after another.

*Cynthia deserves it.*

*She stood by Kent from rock bottom to today. They should've gotten married a long time ago.*

*You find out who's real when times are hard. It's about time those ugly people and ugly things got put behind us.*

I turned off my phone.

I was dying soon anyway. Better to stay far away from them, so no one had to hurt.

I pushed myself upright, took out the souvenir I'd bought at the market that day, and studied Aladdin's lamp closely.

The moment I finished wiping it clean, purple smoke suddenly billowed up in the room, and a towering shadow bowed its head before me.

"Master, within three wishes, anything is possible."

I laughed until tears ran down my face.

My body had grown so weak that it was making me see hallucinations.

But still I spoke the wish buried in my heart.

"I… want to live."

......

"As you wish, my master."

The shadow slowly dissolved in front of me, and the purple smoke drew back.

The stomach pain that had haunted me for years actually vanished.

I tried to draw a deep breath. There was no more crushing stab in my lungs.

Could I really… go on living?

If I wasn't going to die, then I'd cancel the expensive international remains-transport service I'd arranged.

A refund would come back to me, just enough to stay at that most famous hotel.

When Kent and I were in love, we'd once come here on a shoestring, and back then he'd said,

"Sylvia, when I've made it, I'll bring you back here for sure. We'll stay at that most expensive Starlight Hotel, where you can lie in bed and see the whole galaxy."

Now I'd come. Alone.

The car stopped in front of a brilliantly lit camp deep in the desert, and an attendant opened my door.

This was the Starlight Hotel we'd once gazed at from far away.

On the electronic screen in the hotel lobby, a set of photos was scrolling past.

I was stunned to see that the man and woman in the photos were Kent Hughes and Cynthia Swanson.

Across the top of the screen ran a huge headline:

*From Having Nothing to Standing Side by Side*.

So he had come back here, booked out the whole camp, to hold Cynthia's engagement thank-you dinner.

"Sylvia? Why are you here?"

A voice came from the crowd. It was Ned Chavez, a friend of us both.

A few familiar faces stood around him, and when they saw it was me, their expressions ran the whole range.

"I booked a room here."

I'd barely finished when another friend spoke up:

"Well, well, come into money, have you? Chased him all the way out here too."

"Today's Kent's big day. Don't go doing anything stupid, now."

"Right. You cut things off so cruelly back then, and now that he and Cynthia have made it work, what exactly are you doing showing up here?"

Ned cut them off and gave me a perfunctory smile.

"All right, that's enough."

"Anyway, you should go on in. Kent's inside seeing to the guests."

I nodded and dragged my suitcase toward the front desk.

"How'd she get so thin? She looks like a ghost."

"Who knows. Probably hasn't been doing well. Sees Kent riding high now and regrets it, that's all."

"Serves her right! How much did Cynthia suffer beside Kent all these years? What makes Sylvia Floyd think she has any right?"

I lowered my eyes and handed my passport to the front desk.

Just then, a hand caught the handle of my suitcase.

I turned, and my eyes met a familiar pair.

It was Kent Hughes.

He wore a suit. He was nothing like the man from three years ago.

"How did you get this thin?"

The concern in his voice left me dazed for a second.

But the next moment, Cynthia Swanson, in a long white dress, came over and hooked her arm through his, happiness practically spilling off her face.

She followed Kent's gaze to me, looked a little surprised, then broke into a smile.

"Sylvia? Long time no see. You've lost so much weight."

"You came all this way to wish Kent and me well. That really makes me happy. Come in and sit for a bit."

Kent snapped back to himself in an instant, and that trace of warmth in his eyes cooled fast.

He pulled his hand back.

"Tonight is an important day for Cynthia and me. What did you come here to make trouble for?"

I looked at him and offered no explanation.

I just held up my phone with the single-room booking details on the screen for the front desk to see.

"I didn't know you'd be here too."

"Not convenient? Then I'll check out."

Once the front desk finished processing it, I turned with my suitcase and walked toward the door.

As I passed Kent, I didn't spare him another glance.

"Tch, acting so high and mighty. Bringing the humiliation on herself…"

With the whispers trailing behind me, I walked out of the lobby.

The hotel manager came hurrying out with a receipt in hand, and, not seeing me in the lobby,

assumed I was with the rest of that party.

Wearing his professional smile, the manager handed the receipt to Kent.

"Mr. Hughes, this is the young lady's refund slip. Please keep it safe."

Kent didn't take it. His eyes went to the document.

Beneath the refund slip was a faxed page.

The front desk had received it on my behalf, a confirmation letter sent by the travel agency.

It stated, plain as day:

*Final Journey Care Package. International remains-transport service successfully canceled.*

Kent's head whipped back toward me.

Cynthia saw the line too, and the smile froze on her face.

"Kent, what does that mean?"