Chapter 5

The suffocation was crushing me.

I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands.

The screen lit up.

A push notification from Instagram flashed.

It was Chloe's latest post.

In the photo, Julian was standing in an apartment kitchen,

awkwardly wearing an apron, cooking something for her.

The caption read:

"True love isn't what he says.

It's what he does."

Posted three days ago.

I had a 102-degree fever that day.

I begged him to heat up some soup for me.

Yet he just handed me a room service menu.

"Babe, order the truffle soup from the hotel.

Room service makes it way better than I ever could.

I can barely boil water."

It wasn't that he couldn't cook.

He simply wouldn't do it for me.

My legs finally gave out.

Before everything went black...

I heard the horrified screams of the assistants,

and the distant wailing of an ambulance.