His Last Chance, My Last Goodbye
Chapter 1
Seven years with my boyfriend Ethan, and somehow I'd ended up raising him for my stepsister Chloe.
After a patient's family member slapped me across the face during a confrontation at the hospital, I texted Ethan, my eyes stinging:
I got hit. I really need you right now. If you don't come within twenty-four hours, we're done.
He didn't reply.
The next second, a message popped up in our three-person group chat—from Chloe.
Claire! Are you off work yet? Ethan brought me cake and coffee again—even got some for my roommates!
If this keeps up, he's gonna turn me into a little pig. You'd better not dump me for it.
In the photo, she held a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, her shoulder pressed snugly against Ethan's. He leaned in slightly, a smile softening his usual languid gaze.
Ever since Chloe had gone to college in his city, Ethan had taken over the job of looking after her for me.
While I pulled all-nighters at work, they watched fireworks along the riverbank.
While I chewed on cold sandwiches, they sampled every stall at a street food market.
He took such good care of her.
So well that he'd forgotten I was his girlfriend.
My gaze drifted back to their shoulders touching in the photo.
And suddenly, I thought: I didn't really need to wait twenty-four hours.
I turned off my phone, walked out of the stairwell, and knocked on the department head's door.
"Dr. Brooks. That overseas medical volunteer program the hospital partners with—I'd like to go."
…
Dr. Rachel Brooks looked up at me skeptically.
"Claire, are you serious? Uruk isn't exactly a vacation destination."
I shook my head gently.
"I've made up my mind."
Seeing that I wouldn't be talked out of it, she handed me a form.
"All right. The flight leaves in three days. Get everything in order."
Form in hand, I sat back down at my desk.
My pinned chat with Ethan now showed one unread message.
Ethan: ?
A single cold question mark. Nothing else.
Meanwhile, the group chat's unread count had reached 99+.
Ethan: Don't be silly. No matter what you turn into, Claire and I will always want you.
Chloe: Yay! Ethan, you're literally the best person in the world!
Chloe: There are soooo many new movies out. Be a saint and take this lonely little soul to see one?
Ethan: I'll pick you up tomorrow.
Five minutes. That was all it took.
They'd gone from iced lattes and cake to movies, then on to home décor plans and holiday schedules—so seamlessly, so effortlessly, that no one else could get a word in.
I blinked my dry eyes.
And I realized I couldn't remember the last time Ethan Walker and I had talked like that.
A month ago?
Six months?
It didn't matter anymore.
I put my phone back in the drawer and started filling out the application.
Before long, Sophie Miller walked in carrying a stack of files.
She let out a gasp.
"God—Dr. Bennett, let me put something on that."
I glanced up at the mirror. The left side of my face was swollen and red.
"Thanks."
As she dabbed on the ointment, she fumed on my behalf.
"That family was completely out of line. It wasn't even our fault—how could they put their hands on you?"
Then something else seemed to cross her mind, and she let out a little laugh.
"Still, though—you and Ethan are so solid. You're lucky, you know that?"
I froze.
Seeing my confusion, Sophie pulled out her phone to show me.
Because he couldn't always be there with me, Ethan had connected on social media with every colleague I was close to.
His Instagram post was from five minutes ago.
My tough little rose. You've worked so hard.
Attached was a photo of a bouquet—pale pink roses, delicate and lovely.
Sophie waved her phone, eyes sparkling.
"Ethan got these for you because he feels bad, didn't he? I bet he's coming to pick you up after your shift!"
I stared at the caption.
My lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. A bitterness I couldn't name spread through my chest.
Tough.
Little rose.
You've worked so hard.
Every word tracked.
None of them were about me.
Because that bouquet was to celebrate Chloe winning a competition.