I Loved Both Brothers, Yet Died Alone

On our anniversary, Cyrus left me alone again.

It takes four hours to drive from Springfield to Maplewood, and he made the journey overnight without stopping.

Just before midnight, he sent birthday wishes—not to me, but to Nina Brooks.

In her latest updates, I saw them together, arms entwined, holding a gleaming opal ring.

“Four hours can’t stop love,” the caption read.

But Cyrus seemed to have forgotten that those same four hours marked the time I’d been stranded in the mountains.

Lost in a fog-drenched jungle, my phone battery teetering on the edge of death.

By then, my love for Cyrus felt as fragile as the connection I was desperately searching for.

——

In the fourth hour, I finally stumbled onto a spot with a signal.

Standing on the edge of a barren cliff, the wind howled around me, threatening to hurl me into the abyss.

My fingers trembled as I dialed the police, my body a shivering mess of fear and exhaustion.

“Do you know your exact location?” the officer asked, his voice steady.

I couldn’t answer. My voice stuck in my throat, my mind blank.

I only knew that I was standing at the edge—of the cliff, of my strength, and of whatever love I thought I still had left for Cyrus.

After walking aimlessly for four hours, I couldn’t even tell east from west.

The terrain was so convoluted that even the rescuers would need time to reach me.

For a fleeting moment, I thought, This is it. I’m going to die here.

After much hesitation, I dialed Cyrus.

“Cyrus, I’m scared… I feel like I won’t make it back alive,” I stammered the moment he picked up.

The tears came unbidden, my words broken by sobs.

“Didn’t you call the police? Just stay where you are,” he said, his voice low and composed.

Yet I caught it—the faint edge of impatience.

Ignoring his tone, I blurted out, “If I don’t survive, please scatter my ashes in Lake Willow. And my kitten… take care of her. If you can’t, find her a loving home.”

My words spilled out in a rush, an impromptu list of last wishes.

There was silence on the other end before he finally muttered, “Oh, I see. Anything else?”

His voice was clipped, as if each second on the call was a burden.

Before I could muster the courage to say what I really wanted to—I love you—he interrupted.

“Nothing? Okay, I’ll hang up.”

And just like that, the call ended.

But not before I heard it: a girl’s voice in the background.

"Is it Amara?"

"No, just a harassing call."

Cyrus' tone was soft now, a stark contrast to the cold indifference he'd shown me earlier. His gentleness felt like a dagger twisting in my chest, especially when I recognized the other voice in the background.

My fingers trembled as I opened the message board. Sure enough, Nina had just posted an update:

"Four hours can't stop love. He made it before midnight. I forgive him this time."

The photo beneath the caption sent a wave of bitterness crashing over me. Cyrus had his arm around Nina’s shoulders, his smile radiant with happiness. She extended her right hand toward the camera, the diamond ring on her finger gleaming under the spotlight.

And him? He was still wearing the mountaineering jacket I had bought for him.

My phone battery blinked at 10%, a cruel reminder of how little time I had left to stay connected with the rescuers. I forced myself to focus—there wasn’t time to dwell on Nina’s post.

The mountain air grew colder, biting into my skin with every passing moment. Desperation drove me to take off my only layer of warmth—a pink sweater—and tie it to a branch, hoping it might catch someone’s attention.

I curled into myself, trying to trap what little warmth remained, but the chill was relentless. My limbs grew numb, and my strength faded as the cold seeped into my bones.

As I teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, the image of that photo burned into my mind: Cyrus' joyful smile, the glow of the ring, and the words that cut deeper than the cold.