At last, she took my hand, her fingers weakly combing through my hair in the same gentle way she had when I was a child. "My Amara… Amara, who always looks forward to life's beauty… You will look so lovely on your wedding day, but it's such a pity…"
Her words grew softer, fading like a waning light, until finally, she murmured, "It's a pity that Grandma won't be there to see it."
"Amara, don't blame Rowan… It's just that my time has come."
And then, in my arms, she passed away. I fell to the floor, utterly shattered, unable to find my own voice.
My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, dialing Rowan's number, tears blurring my vision and sticking to my face. My voice cracked as I choked out the words, "Rowan, please… can you come and stay with me?"
Unfortunately, the phone did not dial. Instead, a notification popped up. It was a new update from Madeline's Treatment Diary.
My heart lurched as I opened it.
"The fifteen thousand dollars given by my beloved Rowan gave me the courage to keep on living."
"He said I deserve the best."
Madeline kissed his forehead affectionately and murmured in a low voice. "You don't know how much I love you, so much that I want to live for you. It's just a pity you don't belong to me."
I scrolled down, my vision dimming and saw the flood of supportive comments in the thread below. [To know if a man loves you, just see if he's willing to spend money on you!]
[Go for it! The way he looks at you is anything but innocent!]
With a blank expression, I confirmed many times that the person lying beside the hospital bed was my fiancé, Rowan Price.
I had memorized every detail of that delicate profile over the years. I knew that face all too well.
Tears streamed down my own face, each one bringing a numbness more intense than the last.
Rowan had refused to pay for my grandmother's treatment, but he had sent fifteen thousand dollars to a woman he met online.
I understood now. He was not with me, after all. He was with her.
Madeline's voice was barely more than a whisper, filled with a wistful nostalgia that stung. "But I don't need money. I need you. It would be wonderful if this fifteen thousand dollars were your dowry for marrying me…"
As she spoke, her hand reached up to gently caress his face, a delicate, almost reverent gesture. On her finger was a six-pointed star diamond ring, sparkling in the soft light.