I Had to Die for You to Finally Love Me

Then I would finally be able to die with no lingering attachments.

Just as Logan wished, I knelt on the floor and tried shoes for Jillian and her friends, pair after pair.

Yet somehow, the more obedient I acted, the angrier he seemed. But now, I no longer had the strength or the will to care about his emotions.

All I wanted was to finish the task, earn that one thousand dollar tip, and get my dog treated.

Late-stage cancer hurts so much.

So, so much.

I just wanted to gather enough money to save my little Lucky... and then leave this world without regrets.

But there were so many shoes.

To humiliate me further, Jillian's friends deliberately chose the most complicated designs—buckles, straps, laces, all meant to make kneeling harder.

I didn't know how long I had been kneeling. My knees were swollen and red, raw from grinding against the cold floor.

My body, barely held up by painkillers, began to sway.

Finally—just as I felt I might faint—every last pair on the floor had been tried.

I lifted my face with a tired smile at the young man who had promised me one thousand dollars.

"Thank you for your patronage. Please settle the one-thousand-dollar tip."

My smile seemed to stun him. He hesitated, then scrambled awkwardly to grab his wallet. But before he could take out a single bill, Logan snatched the wallet away and slammed it into my face.

"You want money? Did I say you could?"

"And who said you're done? You think trying these few pairs earns you a tip?"

He jabbed a finger toward the shoe shelves. "Go. Bring twenty more pairs for Jillian to try."

"Shirley, I'll make sure you understand—cross me, and you will never have a good day again."

My exhausted body finally collapsed.

As consciousness slipped away, I seemed to see the Logan from six years ago. His eyes were filled with the same icy disdain.

"If you're so stubborn and refuse to apologize to Jillian..."

"Then get out."

"But remember this—offending me, Logan Martin, will never end well for you."

Back then, how naïve I had been. I thought he was just angry, just talking harshly.

What could he really do? Kill me?

Only later did I understand—offending him was a fate worse than death.

Even though I was educated and capable, not a single company dared hire me.

Because of him.

Worse, afraid of crossing Logan—and always biased toward my older sister—my parents announced publicly that they were disowning me.

Just like that, I left Nashville like a wandering ghost. Drifting from place to place, struggling to survive.

In the darkest times, I sold drinks at bars. Stood on the streets handing out flyers, then I finally managed to secure this job at the shoe store.

Life was beginning to stabilize... But then, I was diagnosed with late-stage breast cancer.

The doctor said with proper treatment, I might live another year or two. But I didn't want to.

Living was too hard. Too painful.

It felt like I had never once, in my entire life, been truly loved.

As a child, my parents favored my sister, never me.

After growing up, I fell for Logan—a man everyone said was cold-faced and cold-hearted. But I didn't believe it.

I loved him recklessly, wholeheartedly.

When he casually said he wanted to see snow, I took an overnight flight north, scooped the first snowfall of winter, and brought it back for him—carefully vacuum-sealed.

When he mentioned craving roast duck from an old shop in the north of the city, I tracked down the retired chef and paid a high price to learn how to make it myself.

Later... when he looked at the snow and roast duck I brought him, it felt like the frost in his eyes was slowly, slowly melting.