I Died The Day He Won The Championship

My boyfriend Julian is a chess grandmaster, a genius.

At sixteen, he became the youngest grandmaster in North American history.

I gave him ten years of my life, but a ring was never on the table.

But when he reached the pinnacle of his career and won the Grand Slam, he still refused to break the pact he'd made with his family about his career.

"According to my plan, I'm not considering marriage or any other form of long-term commitment until all my goals are achieved."

I didn't argue with him.

I quietly packed his luggage for the World Championship and wished him the best.

He had no idea that at the very moment he was lifting the championship trophy with the world watching,

I was dragging my failing body to sign my own name on a euthanasia consent form.

Before every tournament, Julian would turn his study upside down.

He was the type to forget everything once he was focused on a chess game.

He'd put on a jacket but forget his watch, or put on a shirt and forget to button it.

Forgetting to eat or drink was even more common.

And I was the one who followed behind him, picking up the pieces.

His flight today was scheduled to depart at four in the afternoon.

After packing Julian's essentials, I spent the rest of my time reorganizing the cluttered chess manuals and tournament materials on his bookshelves.

The top shelf was covered in a thick layer of dust.

As I gently swept it with a duster, I accidentally knocked a dark brown folder off the shelf.

I had never seen it before.

Knowing Julian's scatterbrained nature, I worried it might be something important he'd misplaced, so I opened it instead of putting it back.

Eventually, I opened it.

Inside was a neatly folded piece of paper, as thin as the medical report in my pocket.

Julian's family was a chess dynasty that didn't allow personal relationships to interfere with a player's career.

What I held in my hand was the pact Julian had written for his family seven years ago.

If his goals were met, he would finally be free to settle down and start a family, as his parents expected.

If his goals remained unfulfilled, he would never be sidetracked by romantic relationships.

And Julian was his family's greatest prodigy, carrying the weight of their legacy.

I suddenly understood why, after being with him since I was eighteen, a full decade, I had never received a promise of marriage.

I used to think that if I could just immerse myself in his complex world of chess, I could finally understand him.

Unfortunately, my own talents were limited. No matter how many times I replayed his games on the board late at night, I could never grasp the brilliance of his strategies.

But now, seeing this slightly yellowed pact, I realized all my efforts had been for nothing.

Julian always made meticulous notes on important documents.

And on the last page of this pact, his entire life plan was written in black and white.

Every single word had nothing to do with me.

The date he signed this career pact was the spring we first met.

It turned out the promise I had waited a decade for was never part of his plan to begin with.

Now, I was dying.

I no longer cared about a commitment of marriage or the title of a wife.

The answer didn't matter anymore.

I smiled to myself and got up to leave for the airport.

When I arrived at the departure lounge, Julian was sitting alone on a sofa, reading a collection of chess games.

He hadn't noticed me at all.

I had seen this scene countless times over the past decade.

I would always watch quietly as he immersed himself in the world of those chess pieces.

He could remain completely focused even in a noisy public place.

Most of the time, he would be scribbling dense notes in the margins.

Whenever I saw that look of detached concentration on his face, I knew.

I knew I wouldn't be able to say what was on my mind today, either.

Not wanting to disturb him had become the norm in our relationship.

I walked over quietly and sat down beside him.

I placed an unwrapped wrist brace by his left hand and a protein bar by his right.

When he looked up at me, I reached out and straightened his shirt collar.

"The climate there is drier than here. Your skin is sensitive, so remember to turn on the humidifier at night."

"And don't forget to eat. You have a bad stomach, you can't go hungry…"

He finally looked up from his silence and cut me off.

"Why are you so talkative all of a sudden?"

I avoided his gaze. "So you won't have to call me in the middle of the night when you can't find something."

"I signed up for a health retreat. I might be outdoors for a few days."

Of course, that was a lie.

This time, I wasn't sure if I would even be able to answer his call.

Yesterday, I received the final treatment plan from the hospital.

There were two paths before me. One was to live the rest of my life on a ventilator after surgery.

The other was euthanasia.

In that moment, I silently thanked my lucky stars for Julian's personality. He was the type who would never press for details as long as I gave him an explanation.

He took his luggage and walked toward the boarding gate.

His figure grew smaller and smaller in my sight until he was almost gone.

I couldn't stop myself from rushing after him.

Through the clear glass partition, I asked Julian.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

He froze for a few seconds. "What do you want to hear?"

I waved my hand weakly, forcing a smile.

"Nothing. I'll miss you."

"Good luck with the tournament."

Julian looked at me a little longer than usual, his expression puzzled, but his tone was as flat as ever. "Ava, you're acting a little strange today."

My fingertips dug deep into my palm. I didn't answer.

This was very likely the last time I would ever see Julian.

But I said nothing, and I heard nothing.

I replied to my doctor's message.

[I've made my decision. Euthanasia.]

I set the date for the day of Julian's final match.