Chapter 4: The Cold Goodbye

Natalie left with Caleb. Derek gulped down a big glass of water. "Man, I was so pissed off just now."

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, trying to laugh it off, but his hands were still shaking.

"How will you get admitted without your insurance card?"

I rifled through drawers, tossing aside old receipts and broken pens. Insurance was just another hoop to jump through.

"Pay out of pocket. You can’t take money with you when you die."

He forced a smirk, but I could see the fear behind his eyes.

After thinking it over, I unblocked Aubrey and gave her a call.

My thumb hovered over her name, my heart pounding. We hadn’t spoken in months. Still, desperate times...

Her assistant answered. "Ms. Aubrey is with Mr. Caleb right now. Is there anything you’d like to tell her? I can pass on a message."

That stung more than I expected. Caleb again. He was everywhere, like mold.

I had to laugh. What a messed-up novel world. "Give me five million, or I’ll show up at your office every day and tell everyone Caleb’s a homewrecker."

The threat rolled off my tongue, half-joke, half-dead serious. Blackmail was a last resort, but dignity was a luxury we couldn’t afford.

I’m not like Derek. Aubrey and I are already married. Half her assets are mine. Anyway, Derek and I had already given up on staying in this world. As the saying goes, when you’ve got nothing to lose, you’re not afraid of burning bridges.

I ran a hand through my hair, thinking of all the things I’d done for Aubrey—late-night cramming sessions, holding her after panic attacks, a hundred small sacrifices she’d never notice.

There was a pause on the other end, as if the assistant was consulting Aubrey. A minute later, the assistant’s cold voice came through. "Ms. Aubrey says that’s fine."

No hesitation, no questions. For the main character, she’d hand over the world. For me, just a wire transfer and a dial tone.

See? For the main character, she’ll do anything.

The bitterness tasted like copper. Still, money talked. It always had.

…

Derek and I ended up sharing a hospital room. With nothing to do, we played video games together. We used to spend a fortune on in-game skins, but not anymore. I had to save money for Derek’s morphine.

Our hospital room was cramped, the beds squeaking with every shift. The window overlooked the parking lot, where families came and went, unaware of the drama inside. Our controllers were sticky from too many hands and not enough sanitizing wipes.

In the blink of an eye, months passed. Derek’s illness progressed faster than mine. He used to love listening to Natalie’s concerts, but not anymore—because Caleb now sat in the audience at every show. Natalie’s top fans openly shipped their couple, even the little nurse in our ward shipped them. Seeing Natalie and Caleb together, they screamed with excitement.

The world moved on without us. Posters of Natalie and Caleb papered bus stops. Hashtags trended, fan clubs exploded. Derek stared at the ceiling, earbuds in, but always pulled them out when Natalie’s voice drifted in. Even the staff seemed caught up in the fairy tale, oblivious to the carnage beneath the surface.

Derek’s attacks became more frequent, so painful that even several shots of morphine couldn’t help. Sweat poured down his face. Looking at his arm full of needle marks, I felt bad. "Why don’t you just jump off the roof?"

The words slipped out, a joke to mask the helplessness. But the look in his eyes made my heart crack.

Derek weakly snapped, "Screw you. If I die, who’ll play games with you?"

His lips twisted in a smile, even as his eyes glazed with pain. That was Derek—sarcastic to the end.

I was about to cry when the long-dormant system suddenly came online.

A digital chime rang in my skull, so loud it made my teeth ache. Hope flickered, impossible and wild.

"Ahhhh, sorry host, I finally reconnected! Hosts don’t need to suffer pain. System will send you out now."

A flood of relief washed through the room. I squeezed Derek’s hand, silently promising we’d make it out together.

Derek was already at death’s door. He lifted his head, his lips moving soundlessly. He probably wanted to say, "Screw your dad."

He tried to flip the bird, but his fingers barely twitched. The old fire was still there, even if the body was done.

The system apologized frantically. "You’ll be compensated with thirty million in cash, dear."

Even on his deathbed, Derek managed a ghost of a grin. Money, at last. Maybe it’d make up for all the pain.

After hearing that, Derek closed his eyes peacefully.

The monitor beeped, steady and final. I sat by his side until the nurses came, my mind already drifting somewhere far away.