“Goodbye, Lilly Haan.” And I feel a tear drip down my cheek, but it doesn’t belong to me.
When he’s gone, the tears I’ve been holding back begin to fall. I’m glad I’m on this IV because I’m sure I’ve dehydrated myself with the amount of fluid leaking from my eyes. He may never love me, nor know that I love him, but he sure knew how to say goodbye.
My entire stay at the hospital has feels like it will never end. They say I'm healing fine, but it feels as though my heart will never work the same. I have hope in my unborn child and the joyful life we will live together. Still, I can’t imagine not seeing Vincenzo in their eyes, smile, personality. The thought of being reminded of that every day makes me want to go back to a deep sleep and never wake.
I message Jack to keep me busy, lying about how I’ve gone on a quick business trip to gain crucial intel.
“Why does your cell say you’re in a hospital somewhere, then?”
“I don’t know. Why does yours say you’re at a strip club?”
“Hey, I’m working.” I let out a restrained laugh, imagining his pouty face. As annoying as the guy is, he’s somewhat fun to be around. I take that back. He’s tolerable to be around. I think I’ll just miss his comic relief.
When I start thinking about missing things, my mind inevitably goes to Vince, and pretty soon, I’m teary-eyed watching some animal show where the hosts hunt down poisonous animals to get bitten by them. It’s not an emotional show. In fact, I find it rather disgusting and archaic, but whatever, it’s for science.
The show finishes with a medic on standby who fixes their ailments while describing their pain with strangely specific detail. As stupid as it is, I start crying again because now I feel as though this has been me. I’ve willingly set myself up to be hurt by Vince. He left his mark on me, the poison spread, and then he let me go. I’m all alone, with a permanent reminder of him growing in my stomach by the hour. I can say the hosts of the show are ridiculous all I want. Still, ultimately, I’m just like them— simple-minded and easily swayed by desire.
The biggest mistake I made was believing somewhere deep down that Vince could change, that we both could. And that the mess we’re in would be a romantic story with a light at the end of the tunnel. How wrong I've been about everything, down to the very last detail. Maybe I don't love him. Because I don't think real love is meant to hurt this badly. If it is, I don't think I can bear to experience it ever again. If this time around it almost killed me, I’m sure doing it all over again would most definitely be my quietus.