Parting Like Rain

Ethan had spent the past few days looking after Mariah. Each time he tried to visit Cynthia, Mariah would suddenly take a turn for the worse.

So he stayed.

Only when he learned Cynthia had collapsed from heatstroke did he finally go to her.

Seeing her there—pale and motionless on the stretcher—a cold dread settled in his chest.

He told himself he should hate her.

After what she had done, she deserved to pay.

But faced with her like this, he felt no satisfaction—only a sharp, clawing guilt.

Cynthia hated the heat more than anything, yet he had forced her to kneel outside for four whole days. He couldn’t imagine what she had endured.

Just then, Cynthia on the stretcher began shaking her head frantically, her face etched with terror.

“I didn’t abandon you… Ethan, I didn’t. Please don’t hurt me. Don’t lock me in that room again. I’m scared…”

“Really, I didn’t… I swear… Please believe me…”

Ethan froze, thinking she had woken.

But her eyes remained shut, her face even paler than before.

A single tear traced a path down her temple. She looked as fragile as a fading flower.

Something wrenched hard inside Ethan’s chest—a deep, sickening ache.

At that moment, Cynthia’s phone slipped from her pocket.

The screen lit up. A new message from the same doctor.

“Ms Cynthia, while a cure isn’t possible, palliative treatment could help manage your symptoms and extend your comfort. I’d strongly advise inpatient monitoring.”

Ethan remembered—the day he locked her away, a message had come from this same contact. He hadn’t seen it then; Mariah had distracted him.

This time, he saw it clearly. The words struck him like a physical blow, rooting him to the spot.

It took him a long moment to move. Before they wheeled Cynthia into surgery, he used her fingerprint to unlock the phone.

With a sinking heart, he opened the messages. After reading the exchange, he stood there, stunned.

Cynthia had cancer. And he had known nothing.

Through the operating room window, Ethan watched her lying motionless on the bed, surrounded by machines.

His heart lodged in his throat. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

*Cynthia, you have to be okay.*

After the procedure, she was out of immediate danger and moved to a regular ward.

Still uneasy, Ethan insisted they run every test possible.

While waiting for the results, Cynthia woke.

She blinked, surprised to find Ethan beside her. He seized her hand before she could speak, his expression frantic.

“Cynthia, why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

She was taken aback that he already knew.

“I…”

But before she could finish, a doctor entered with the report, addressing Ethan seriously.

“Mr. Ethan, the tests indicate Ms Cynthia is in good health. She has mild anemia, but supplements should resolve it.”

Silence hung in the room for two full seconds.

Ethan’s brow furrowed deeply.

“That’s impossible. I saw it myself—her doctor said her organs were cancerous. How can she be healthy? There must be a mistake in your tests.”