My Last Gift Was Their Wedding

He turned and led Josephine away to change.

The clerk gave me an awkward look. "Miss Sullivan, that wedding gown just now…"

I remembered the flicker of light in Josephine's eyes. I pulled out my card. "I'll take it."

It was the first wedding gift I gave them.

I arranged the second one soon after.

I handed the new wedding plan over to the planning company.

They looked at me, troubled. "This is a completely different style from before, Miss Sullivan."

Thinking of how they'd pulled all-nighters on the old plan, I felt a pang of guilt. "Would it help if I paid more on my end?"

After I named a figure generous enough to show I meant it, they promised that in a month they'd give me a champagne-rose-themed wedding with no regrets.

I smiled faintly and told them, "The bride's name needs to change too."

The clerk, who'd been all smiles a moment ago, let her mouth fall open.

"I'm going to die soon. I want the two most important people in my life to take good care of each other."

There wasn't a trace of malice in my eyes. So clean, so simple that the clerk thought I was joking.

"It's late-stage cancer. There's no cure. I hope you won't tell them."

I said it word by word, and the clerk stammered, "O… okay."

I stepped out of the shop and slowly let out a breath.

Then a wave of nausea hit, and the pain doubled me over right there on the ground, dry-heaving until I brought up blood.

I dug through my bag for the medicine, only to realize the bottle disguised as stomach tablets had been left behind in Joseph's car by accident.

In a panic I yanked out my phone and called him. "Joseph, my stomach hurts, the pills are in your car, could you…"

The Joseph of before, who'd once heard I'd scraped a finger and bolted half a mile to buy me iodine and bandages.

But today he was strangely silent.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

The pain had cold sweat beading on my forehead.

"W-what?"

I almost wondered if I was hurting badly enough to hallucinate.

"You saw Josephine's post too, didn't you. You know it's dangerous for her to be drunk at a bar right now, and you're still pulling these little stunts to grab my attention, to stop me from going to get her."

"I'm not."

The pain blacked out my vision, and my heart felt like it was being pounded by something blunt.

A dense, crawling wave of hurt climbed into my chest, and my nose stung before I could stop it.

"Enough. You really are getting more and more selfish. Josephine sacrificed herself for you once already. Nothing can happen to her again. Call a courier and buy your own medicine."

I nodded, meaning to say okay.

Only to find the call had long since been cut off.

I stared at the empty street, forcing my collapsing body upright, and went back to the hospital for medicine.

It hurt so much. I'm so afraid of pain. I had booked an assisted death abroad.

Just three days before the wedding.

After taking the medicine, I started writing my will at home.

As I wrote, my eyelids began to droop.

I slumped over the desk in a daze and dreamed of the past.

The eighteen-year-old me, and Josephine, and Joseph.

Back then we were the elite circle trio, all spirit and swagger.

But the day I accepted Joseph's confession and went home.

Everything changed.

The uncle who'd adopted me had been drugged.

He stared at me, eyes bloodshot, and at the roses in my hand, and asked, "Bessie, don't you love me?"

All my life I'd only ever seen him as an elder. I'd never once had any other kind of thought.

He closed in on me step by step and knocked away the phone I tried to call the police with.

He cornered me against the windowsill, and I cried out for help to Josephine and Joseph, who hadn't gone far yet.

They burst in.

Seeing my uncle pinning me to the floor, Joseph's eyes went red.