When I notified Simon of Elara's death, he furrowed his brow in disbelief. "Don't joke about that."
"Mr. Taylor, I'm not joking," I said as I handed him Elara's will. "This is for your parents, please pass it on."
He didn't take it, nor did he glance at it. "What is she playing at now?"
I chuckled to myself, "Mr. Taylor, Elara's body has been found by the police. You can go to the morgue to verify it's her."
After saying this, I turned and walked away without looking back at his expression.
Seven days after Elara's death, Simon returned from abroad. His parents, unable to contact Elara, had reported her missing. The police tracked me down through leads, and I recounted the events to them.
At the same time, I received a timed email from Elara. She told me she had gone, not to miss her too much, and gave me the code to her rental, asking me to pass on her will to Mr. and Mrs. Taylors. She mentioned she had written a detailed cookbook for me, so I could cook her recipes whenever I missed her food.
Since she didn't contacted me for a while, I had a premonition that something might happen. She died on such an ordinary day, telling no one, including me.
I was a medical student. I was drawn to her school's cafeteria. I normally ate alone each day. Over time, she noticed me and always looked at me. Once, her bicycle broke, and I happened to fix it as I passed by. That's how we met.
She probably thought my family was poor, that I ate only one meal a day with just one pancake. So she'd deliberately order extra meat, pretending she couldn't finish, asking me to help.
I enjoyed her care for me and pretended to be like that for a long time. Eventually, she started bringing a large bag of fruits, snacks, and daily necessities every week, claiming her dorm mates were dieting and asked for my help.
I couldn't stand it anymore and dressed in brand clothes, carrying a Prada bag to meet her. She must recognize the brand, I thought. She studied me seriously, pointed at my bag, "That looks like …" Her expression changed, probably thinking it was a knockoff. She tried not to offend, she complimented, "It’s quite nice."
I felt an urge to laugh. She always loved such antics.
After her death, she left half her legacy to me. Seeing the figures in her bank account, I couldn't help but laugh. I ended up sitting on the ground, covering my eyes as my laugh turned into tears.
Simon must have confirmed her identity at the morgue. When he came out, his fists were clenched, his expression dazed.
As a doctor, I know what a water-logged body looks like.
It's something he'll probably never forget.
The police handed him a phone they found on a rock, which still had some battery left.
The lock screen password was easy to guess—it was the date her childhood cat died, just like many of her passwords were her mother's birthday.
This girl, sentimental to a puzzling degree.
Perhaps because her mother died early, she told me to cherish every family member.
That little cat was her family.She also said I was her family.
Fool.
When the screen lit up, what appeared was Simon's social media feed.He and Eve were watching fireworks in England, the scene filled with romance and beauty.
The last thing she saw before she died was this scene.
What must she have felt then?Simon turned pale.
A few days later, Simon suddenly came to see me.
He asked me when she found out she was sick.
"The day you proposed to her," I said.
Simon's eyelids twitched, "The day I proposed?"
"Yes," I leaned back in my chair, eyeing him intently, "but what did you say? You didn't really want to marry her, it was just your parents' wish."
He seemed to realize something, his eyes instantly reddened, "No wonder."
"No wonder what?" I scoffed, "No wonder she was so upset then?"
His recent mental state was obviously poor, he had lost a lot of weight, his voice was soft, almost pleading, as if desperately hoping for a denial, "Was she in much pain in her last days?"
I kept my usual smile, "Mr. Taylor, she had brain cancer. Patients in the late stages of brain cancer experience severe headaches, dizziness, frequent nausea, and vomiting. Sometimes she couldn't see clearly, often falling when she was alone. Once the cancer metastasized, she couldn't even pinpoint where it hurt because it hurt everywhere. She couldn't bear it, which is why she chose to end her life."
"She asked me to tell you she didn't want you to suffer much when she goes."
I looked at him maliciously, "But I couldn't bear to keep you in the dark."
Simon, what were you doing at that time?Watching fireworks with Eve?
"Oh, by the way, there was one time you, Eve, and her went out together. She had a headache and a nosebleed then, so she hid in the bathroom until she felt better enough to rejoin you," I said. "She tried to call me then, but I missed it."
Simon suddenly looked up at me, his eyes full of disbelief.
I smiled slightly, "But compared to her, you seemed more concerned about Miss Jones's cold."
Simon's complexion turned ashen, and he struggled to regain his composure.
A nurse gently knocked on the door. "Dr. Damen, a patient's family is looking for you."
I walked past him and stepped outside.
Standing outside were Simon's parents. Mrs. Taylor's eyes were red and swollen from crying; she needed Mr. Taylor's support to stand.
"You were Elara's primary doctor and her friend. Can you tell us if Elara really had cancer?" Mrs. Taylor's hand reached out to me, her voice trembling, "Why didn't she tell us anything?"
I quickly took her arm, "Mr. Taylor, please, accept my condolences."
"During her last days, she was alone and unsupported, bearing it all by herself. It must have been so hard for her," Mrs. Taylor said, tears starting to flow again.
I recited the prepared explanation, "Ms. Taylor, don't be too sad. Today's medical advances meant that Elara didn't suffer much. She chose to jump into the sea because she didn't want to linger on with drugs and devices every day. in her last days. She loved the sea; for her, it was a form of relief to end her life there. She didn't want you to grieve for her, that's why she didn't tell you."
Mr. Taylor, stunned with his eyes red and voice choked, asked, "Is that so?"
I nodded, "She said she wanted to be remembered as she was healthy and beautiful."
Mrs. Taylor murmured, "She was still concerned about my high blood pressure at the end, reminding me to take my medication on time, get regular check-ups.She even asked my husband to make sure I didn't drink."
"Even on the day she left, my Elara still called me to inquire about my well-being," she collapsed into a chair in the hospital corridor, covering her face as she cried, "I didn't notice anything was wrong..."
Simon stood by, aware of the true situation.
Thus, his pain was even harder to suppress.
Just like mine.
