You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone

“Mira,” the doctor said gently, yet there was no hiding the weight behind his voice. “The bone marrow therapy has stopped responding. The transfusions are only delaying the inevitable. Without a transplant—and soon—your body won’t be able to hold on.”

I nodded as if I understood, though my thoughts had already drifted somewhere far away. My hands shook as I reached for my phone. I dialed Ethan’s number.

My husband.

The man I’d spent five years of my life loving.

The call rang. Once. Twice. Then again.

No answer.

I tried again. Still nothing.

A third time—straight to voicemail.

The ache in my chest deepened, sharp and suffocating. I stared at my screen, waiting, hoping he’d call back. Instead, my phone vibrated.

An Instagram notification.

I opened it without thinking.

A photo filled my screen. Liora—my cousin. Freshly returned from overseas, always talking about her big dreams, her future in fashion, how she was finally living the life she wanted. In the photo, she was glowing. Smiling brightly. Her fingers were intertwined with a man’s hand.

The watch on his wrist caught the light.

I didn’t need to look twice.

I knew that watch. I had clasped it around his wrist myself.

Ethan’s.

The caption felt like fire against my skin.

The person I’ve loved quietly for so long is finally mine. Even if this is only a dream, I pray it never ends.

My thumb slipped.

I hit “like.”

Less than a minute later, my phone started ringing nonstop. His name flashed across the screen again and again.

I answered.

“Mira—don’t hang up,” Ethan said quickly, his voice tight, almost panicked. “Please. I know what you saw. Just… give me a chance to explain.”

I said nothing.

He rushed to fill the silence. “This isn’t what it looks like. Liora told me she’s willing to be your donor. She really is. But she set a condition.” He inhaled sharply. “She said she’d only do it if I agreed to be with her. Just for a month. One month, Mira. I didn’t have a choice. I did this for you. Everything I did—I did it because I love you.”

My throat burned. “Ethan… are you telling me the truth? Or is this just the version you want me to believe?”

“It is the truth!” he snapped, then immediately softened his tone. “Mira, you’re my whole world. You know that. I’ve said it a thousand times. I can’t lose you. If something happens to you, I won’t survive it.”

“Then why,” I asked quietly, “does it feel like you didn’t hesitate at all when she asked?”

Silence answered me. All I could hear was his breathing.

Memories came rushing in, uninvited.

The boy who once drove across the city in the middle of the night because I mentioned craving dumplings and couldn’t sleep through the pain.

The boy who surprised me with shoes I’d casually admired months earlier.

The boy who knelt beneath glowing lanterns on my twenty-second birthday, holding out a ring with shaking hands and saying, Marry me after you graduate. I want a lifetime with you, Mira.

I had believed him.

Everyone had.

Ethan Marlowe—aloof, distant, untouchable to everyone else. But with me, he had been gentle. Warm. Mine.

When I was diagnosed with aplastic anemia six months ago, he squeezed my hand so tightly it hurt. Tears filled his eyes as he said, “If you leave this world, I’m coming with you. Don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us.”

He searched endlessly for a donor. He called hospitals, pleaded with strangers, volunteered his own blood even when it wasn’t enough. Once, I saw a document on his desk—his will. He was ready to give everything away.

He even paid Liora. I saw the proof myself.

Four hundred million dollars.

Funding for her dreams, in exchange for her bone marrow.

But that wasn’t all she wanted.

For the fourth time in half a year, Liora delayed the procedure again. Every time, there was a new reason. And every time, Ethan stayed beside her—as if she were the one lying in a hospital bed, fading.

The first time, she fainted and claimed her blood sugar had dropped. Ethan stayed in the hospital with her for three nights straight.

The second time, she said her anxiety was overwhelming, that she couldn’t sleep. Ethan attended therapy sessions with her, holding her hand until dawn.

The third time, she developed a sudden fever. Ethan left my bedside—right after I collapsed during treatment—to care for her instead.

And now, she had raised the stakes.

She told him she’d only donate if he agreed to be her boyfriend for one month.

I lay on the hospital bed, gripping the blanket as my hands trembled. When I spoke, my voice was quiet, but it cut deep.

“Ethan… give her more money. I don’t care how much. Pay her whatever she wants. Just don’t do this. Don’t be with her. Please.”

The line went still. I could hear him breathing, but he didn’t answer.

After a long moment, he spoke softly. “Mira… we already owe her so much. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s helping you. We should be thankful.”

I clenched the blanket harder, rage pounding in my chest with nowhere to go.

“Owe her?” I whispered. “For the money? Or… is there something else you owe her?”

Before he could respond, another voice slipped into the call—sweet, delicate, false.

“Ethan,” Liora said lightly, “I burned my hand. It hurts. Come here.”

His tone changed instantly. Concern replaced everything else.

“Mira, I’ll call you back later, okay? Liora needs me.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone until the screen dimmed and went black. My chest felt empty, as though something vital had finally collapsed inside me.

I turned toward my doctor.

“If I don’t get the transplant… how much time do I have?”

He sighed, sympathy heavy in his eyes. “At most, one month. You’re weakening quickly. If the transplant happens before then, there’s still hope. Otherwise—”

“I understand,” I whispered, stopping him. “Then… I won’t be getting it.”

I knew Liora too well. She was never going to save me. She would keep postponing, keep finding reasons—just to keep Ethan tied to her.

And I was done waiting.

That evening, I returned home. The sky glowed in shades of gold and orange, so peaceful it almost felt like a farewell. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was mercy—one last gentle gift before the end.

Then I opened the door.

And everything shattered.