The Last Message - Part 3

There was silence. Then his mother whispered: “Maybe less.” The coffee slipped from Maya's hand. The cup hit the floor. Both voices inside went silent. Daniel looked toward the door. And when he saw Maya standing there, everything on his face changed. Fear. Not the kind she'd seen before. Something deeper. Something final. “Maya…” She stepped into the room. “Six months?” He said nothing. She looked at his mother. “Six months until what?” His mother looked away. Maya's eyes returned to Daniel. “Until what?” Daniel swallowed. “Until the treatment stops working.” The room suddenly felt unbearably small. Maya stared at him. “What treatment?” Daniel looked down. “Chemotherapy.” She felt something inside her collapse. “You said it was treatable.” “It is.” “You said you were getting better.” “I was trying to.” “Daniel.” Her voice broke. “Don't lie to me again.” He finally looked at her. “I have cancer.” The words were quiet. Almost painfully ordinary. And somehow that made them worse. Maya sat down. She didn't cry immediately. She simply stared at him as though she was waiting for him to laugh and tell her it was all some horrible misunderstanding. But he didn't. She looked at his hands. The same hands that had held hers in movie theatres. The same hands that had stolen fries from her plate. The same hands that had once reached across the bed at 2 a.m. just to make sure she was still there. They suddenly looked fragile. “You knew,” she whispered. “Yes.” “How long?” “Four months.” “Four months?” He nodded. “And you ended our relationship?” “Yes.” “You didn't tell me?” “No.” “You let me hate you?” His eyes filled with tears. “I thought that would be easier.” Maya laughed bitterly. “Easier for who?” He didn't answer. She stood. “You don't get to call that protecting me.” “I know.” “You don't get to decide that I would rather lose you than love you through this.” “I know.” “You don't get to take away my choice.” His voice became barely audible. “I was scared.” “So was I.” He looked at her. “I was scared of watching you die.” Maya's voice trembled. “And I was scared of losing you without knowing why.” Neither of them spoke. Then Maya asked the question she had been avoiding. “Is there really nothing they can do?” Daniel hesitated. “There is one option.” She waited. “A clinical trial.” “Then why aren't you doing it?” His eyes dropped. “Because it's experimental.” “What does that mean?” “It means they don't know if it will work.” “And?” “And it could make things worse.” Maya stared at him. “So you're giving up?” “No.” “Then what are you doing?” “I was trying to make peace with it.” She shook her head. “No.” “Maya—” “No.” She wiped her tears. “You don't get to make peace with dying while I'm standing here.” For the first time, Daniel smiled. A small, broken smile. “You're still stubborn.” “And you're still an idiot.” They laughed. And then Maya cried. Really cried. The kind of crying that makes your chest hurt. Daniel reached for her. She walked into his arms. And for a few minutes, neither of them tried to fix anything. They simply held each other. The next morning, Maya woke up with a decision. She was going to stay. Not because Daniel was dying. Not because she felt sorry for him. And definitely not because she thought love could magically cure him. She stayed because he was hers to love, and she was hers to choose what that meant. But staying came with a price. The clinical trial was in another country. It required money they didn't have. And Daniel refused to let her pay for it. So Maya did something he never expected. She started fundraising. She contacted organizations. She spoke to doctors. She called people she hadn't spoken to in years. She even posted Daniel's story online. Within days, strangers were sharing it. People she had never met were donating. For the first time, Daniel allowed himself to believe that maybe there was still a future. Then, one afternoon, Maya received a message from an unknown number. “You don't know the whole story.” She stared at it. Another message arrived. “Ask Daniel what happened the night of the accident.” Her heart stopped. There had been no accident. At least, not one Daniel had ever told her about. She typed: “Who is this?” The reply came almost immediately. “Someone who was there.” Then a photograph appeared. Maya opened it. It was Daniel. Standing beside a car. And beside him was another woman. Maya's stomach dropped. She stared at the photograph for a long time. Then another message appeared. “Ask him who she is.” Maya looked through the glass door of Daniel's hospital room. He was sleeping. Peacefully. Completely unaware that the fragile little world they had rebuilt was about to crack open again. She looked down at the photograph. Then back at him. And suddenly, she wasn't wondering whether Daniel would survive. She was wondering whether the man she had decided to stay for was the man she thought Maya stared at the photograph. The woman beside Daniel looked familiar. Not familiar enough to place immediately, but enough to make something in her stomach twist. She zoomed in. Daniel was smiling. The woman had her hand on his shoulder. And the date on the photograph was from five months ago—weeks before Daniel had sent the message ending their relationship. Maya's first instinct was to confront him. Her second was to leave. Instead, she saved the photograph. Then she walked into his room. Daniel woke up when he heard her. “Hey.” Maya said nothing. She placed her phone on the bed between them. The photograph was open. His face changed instantly. “Who is she?”

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