Last Goodbye in Pieces

I never expected to linger on as a ghost.

I watched Patrick—maybe a cop, maybe a detective—calmly examining my remains as if they were just pieces of trash. He didn’t even spare me a second glance before turning away, completely emotionless.

“Hit me up if anything comes up. Got plans tonight, gotta head out.”

His friend, the forensic medical examiner, was with him. As they walked away, his friend pulled out two boxes of candy, a grin lighting up his face.

“Just tied the knot with my girl, got some sweets for you and Yasmine. Yasmine’s been hounding me for candy, but I haven’t seen her around. Could you pass these on to her? It’s our way of sending good vibes.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Patrick’s expression darkened.

The smile froze on his friend’s face, and he asked awkwardly, “Man, you still haven’t patched things up with Yasmine? It’s been over half a month?”

Patrick stopped in his tracks, his breaths coming out in heavy gasps.

“Don’t talk to me about her.”

It was as if he loathed me, turning away with a scowl etched on his face. Finally, he glanced down at the wedding favors in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, fueled by frustration, he tossed them into the trash can.

I couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste. I stared at the discarded sweets in the bin. Nobody could enjoy them now...

I trailed after him to the hospital, peering through the clear glass. There was a middle-aged woman inside, hooked up to a ventilator. I covered my mouth, tears streaming down my face as I quietly wept.

Deep down, I knew the rift between Patrick and me wasn’t something that a few words could fix. His anger at me stemmed from the fact that I was the reason his mom had ended up in the hospital. She was still there, lying in the ICU.

It had only been half a month, not long after Patrick’s own incident. The police had just brought him and Nancy back home.

His mom, Tracy, had been at the bridal shop, helping me pick out a wedding gown for my upcoming nuptials with Patrick on the eighth of next month—a date his mom had chosen.

On the way home, I didn’t see the car coming from out of nowhere, barreling toward us. I froze, but Patrick’s mom threw her arms around me, shielding me. She took the brunt of the crash and was seriously injured. Clinging to life, she was rushed to the hospital.

Patrick, with Nancy in tow, arrived. Blinded by rage, he grabbed me by the collar and shoved me to the ground.

“Why did you have to drag her into this mess? If you hadn’t been so reckless with her, she would never have ended up in that car crash! Yasmine, if anything—anything at all—happens to my mom, I could never forgive you!”

Yeah, who could forgive someone who hurt their own mother?

Ignoring the pain, I forced myself to stand. I didn’t expect his forgiveness, but Tracy was hurt because of me. All I could do was plead, “Please... let me stay. I’ll leave as soon as I know Mrs. Green is okay...”

Patrick wouldn’t even hear me out. He kicked me out without a second thought.

“Quit your act! You have no right to see my mom!”

That night, I lingered outside the hospital, unable to go anywhere. It wasn’t until I saw Tracy safely in the ICU the next day that I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Before I left, I caught a glimpse of Nancy comforting Patrick. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Green will pull through. I’m here, Patrick. I’ll stick by you no matter what...”

I knew when to step back, so I left the hospital quietly, not wanting to intrude.

The guilt continued to haunt me. Every dream at midnight took me back to the crash. The weight of guilt and grief was crushing. I blamed myself, convinced that I had let Tracy down.

So, I kept to the shadows during her hospital stay, only daring to visit when no one would see me.

That was before I ended up in the hands of the real villain...

I only learned about the time Patrick and Nancy disappeared after the fact. Patrick, out of love for Nancy, had handed over my portrait to a criminal.

I wonder if Patrick ever realized that he had unwittingly helped to hurt his own mother, and whether he could forgive himself.