Love Lost to Illness and Lies

That day, when I had my ninth drink, Armani decided it was time to end the party. He carried me home, just like he used to when I was sick, and made me a pot of hangover soup, feeding it to me one spoonful at a time.

As night fell and sleep started to take over, I heard Armani break the silence. "Mikayla, why didn't you answer today's question?"

His words startled me awake. I turned to look at him, but he was facing the other way. Even though we lay on the same bed, close enough to reach out and touch, it felt like our hearts were miles apart.

Gently, I asked, "Armani, do you really want to know the answer?"

He was quiet for a long time. "It's late. You should get some sleep," he eventually said.

Tears rolled quietly down my face. I suddenly remembered when he first arrived in this city, his eyes so genuine, as if the person in front of him was his whole world. "Mikayla, I promise I'll give you a wonderful life," he had vowed then, his eyes shining with love every time they met mine.

Nineteen-year-old Mikayla was overflowing with love and filled with the intense affection of nineteen-year-old Armani. I was a lively and optimistic young woman.

But now, at twenty-six, Mikayla Morrison is all alone, with my parents gone and a cancer diagnosis looming over me.

Armani, is this the wonderful life you once promised me?

I watched his sleeping profile, still able to see glimpses of the rebellious spirit in his brow. Tears slipped silently down my cheeks.

You once loved me so deeply. How can you now bear to make me so miserable?