I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what normal felt like.

It had only been a few days since I'd said goodbye to Will at the airport. Although it wasn't much of a goodbye. It was more like storming away from him and his family, unable to bear their smiling faces, knowing that Will still planned to go through with Dignitas. That felt like a lifetime ago.

The emptiness that settled after that was worse than I'd imagined. There was a hole in my chest, one that no amount of crying or lying still could fill. Each day, the hole grew bigger, swallowing everything around me until nothing was left.

I hadn't left my room much since then. I couldn't face my mum or dad, couldn't deal with the weight of their stares, their unspoken words. Even though I knew they were relieved—relieved that this chapter of my life was over—they didn't say it. They didn't have to.

But for me, it wasn't over. Not really.

The silence in the house was thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards or the distant murmur of the television downstairs. I could hear my mum moving around in the kitchen, pretending everything was normal. But nothing felt normal anymore.

I rolled over onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter as I stared at my phone on the bedside table. It had been quiet all day. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Then, it buzzed.

I didn't move at first; I didn't want to. It was probably Mum texting to ask if I was coming down for dinner or Treena asking how I was doing. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to stay here, in silence, where I didn't have to think about what had happened.

But something in the back of my mind made me reach for it.

I grabbed the phone, squinting at the screen. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the name flash across it.

Nathan.

I sat up, suddenly wide awake, my heart pounding. Nathan never called unless it was something important. My fingers hovered over the answer button for a second too long before I finally pressed it, holding the phone to my ear.

"Nathan?" My voice came out shaky, barely more than a whisper.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear him breathing. That heavy, familiar sound. "Lou... Will didn't make it."

For a second, I didn't understand what he was saying. My brain couldn't process it. "What?"

"He didn't make it to Switzerland."

The words hung there, heavy and thick, and I felt the world tilt beneath me. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself, but it was useless. A gambit of emotions watched over me—relief came easy. Confusion. Then relief again, followed by a slew of questions my mouth couldn't form.

Will didn't make it. He was still here. Still alive.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "But... how?"

"He got sick," Nathan said quietly, his voice softer now. "Really sick. He couldn't travel. They admitted him to the hospital. It was close, Lou."

"Sick?"

"Yeah. A pulmonary embolism—PE. I guess I didn't notice the signs when we returned from Mauritius 'cause he looked good. Healthy."

An image of Will came to mind looking tanned, his skin glowing as if the sun had soaked into each pore and lingered. She'd never seen him look that… well before, making his decision to die even more difficult to accept.

Nathan's voice continued to fill my ear. "The doctors say he must have developed the clot on our trip back, and it traveled to his lungs."

My heart dropped, and I gripped the phone tighter, my mind racing. Will was still here. He was still alive. I didn't know if I should feel relief or terror. Probably both.

"He's stable now," Nathan continued, his voice filling the silence. "But he needs you, Lou. More than ever."

I blinked back the tears that were already starting to spill over, my chest tight with the weight of everything I couldn't say. I bobbed my head vigorously. I didn't have to think about my answer; the words flowed freely. "I'll come. Tell him... tell him I'll come."

Nathan let out a slow breath, one that sounded almost like relief. "I'll let him know."

We hung up, but I couldn't move. I sat there, the phone still clutched in my hand, my mind spinning. Will hadn't gone through with it. He hadn't left. He was still here. Under the relief, I didn't know what else to feel… guilt perhaps. I thought he left, got on some plane to Switzerland, and I hadn't been there with him like he asked.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch the man I love die, helpless to do anything about it. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were unfinished between us—that I should have been there for him no matter how painful.

And now… now I don't have to think about that anymore. By some twist of fate, he couldn't make it to Switzerland, and he was still here.

Before I could fully process the thought, the phone buzzed again, and I glanced down at the screen, my heart sinking when I saw the name this time.

Globe Reporter.

The tears hovering at the edge of my eyes finally spilled over. Patrick.

I recalled our row just days ago. I still couldn't believe that he sold Will's story, sold my story to the papers as if it was just another headline, another scandal for people to gawk at. The Globe had been hounding me ever since. I could bear the shame of it, but I hated knowing that Will's name was out there for public consumption and speculation. They didn't know Will or his family. It wasn't their right to judge any of us.

I ignored the call, tossing the phone aside as I wiped my face, trying to pull myself together.

I couldn't deal with them right now. I couldn't deal with any of it. All I could think about was Will—still alive, still here, waiting for me.

I pulled myself out of bed, wiping my eyes as I grabbed my coat. I couldn't stay here. Not in this house not with the weight of everything pressing down on me.

I had to see him.

I rushed down the stairs, my footsteps heavy as I rushed to the door. I wanted to leave before anyone noticed I was missing; otherwise, I'd never make it out of the house. Knowing my family, they'd have questions that I didn't have the answers to.

"Lou?" Treen looked up from her textbook as I rushed past the living room.

"Can't talk. Will's in the hospital."

She frowned as she unfolded herself from the sofa and placed the book aside. "Right. In Switzerland." Treen stepped closer, concern written on her face. "Have you changed your mind about going?"

I shook my head. I didn't have time to explain everything to her. For once, I was at a loss for words. "He didn't make it—I mean, he got sick. He's here in the hospital."

Treen's eyes widened, and she rushed to me, grabbing my stiff hands. "Oh, Lou! This is good news, right? He didn't go through with it."

"No," I said, unable to believe it until I saw him with my own eyes.

"I'll tell Mum and Dad. They'll want to know."

I grabbed her arm, digging my fingers into her skin without meaning to. "Not yet. I just have to go, Treen. I need to leave now."

She nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "Then let's go," she said, grabbing the keys to Dad's truck from the key hanger on the wall.

The ride to the hospital felt like it lasted hours. The streets blurred past me, but all I could think about was Will. What would he say when he saw me? How was I going to face him after everything we'd been through? I sat in these thoughts as Treena navigated the familiar streets of our small town. Left. Right. Left. Right. She didn't try to talk to me, sensing I couldn't engage in conversation.

When we finally pulled up to the hospital, she parked the car and sat there momentarily as I tried to catch my breath. I hadn't been here in so long. The smell of antiseptic and the cold, sterile walls always made me feel small like I was shrinking in on myself. But Will was in there, just through those doors, waiting for me.

"Call me if you need me?" Treena grabbed my hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"I will," I said, sliding out of the passenger side and closing the door behind me.

I walked inside, my heart pounding as I went to room 505. When I reached it, I paused outside the door, taking a deep breath.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be, yet here he was, alive and waiting for me.