Chapter 2

As soon as we got home and Mom had helped me lie down in bed, Ethan's mother came looking for me.

The moment she entered, she looked at me hesitantly, as if wanting to say something but stopping herself.

"Jenny, I... I have a request."

Looking at her flushed face, even though she hadn't said the rest, I already knew her purpose was probably the same as seven years ago.

After all, seven years ago, the moment she learned I had cancer, she had done exactly this — bursting into my hospital room urgently, with a hint of guilt.

Before I could even accept that I had cancer, while I was still crying hysterically from fear, she had knelt before me.

"Jenny, I'm begging you, don't drag Ethan down. He just got accepted to a school abroad. If he finds out you have cancer, he definitely won't want to go study overseas."

"You and Ethan grew up together and have been dating for so many years. I'm begging you — please don't hold Ethan back. Break up with him, okay?"

"I've already thought of a solution for you. I've arranged for you to meet a guy. You just need to pretend to kiss that guy downstairs, pretend Ethan catches you, then pretend to break up with him."

Because of her words, when I was first diagnosed with cancer, my first priority wasn't going to the hospital for examination and treatment.

Instead, I coldly pretended to cheat, coldly forced Ethan to break up with me, and ruthlessly drove Ethan out of the country.

Sure enough, in just a moment, Ethan's mother said to me guiltily:

"Jenny, don't blame me. I have no choice. Ethan's current girlfriend was his classmate during his graduate and doctoral studies abroad. They match in every way. I really... really don't want to ruin such a good marriage."

"You know Ethan has cared about you since childhood. If... if he finds out the truth from back then, I'm afraid... I'm afraid..."

"So can you please not meet with Ethan for a while? You... you're about to die anyway, right? It's not suitable for you to go out. Don't you think?"

Hearing Ethan's mother mention "die," my mom angrily threw my adult diaper onto the bed.

Seeing that she was about to explode, I quickly acted cute and shook my mom's arm, then looked calmly at Ethan's mother.

"I can agree not to tell Ethan about what happened seven years ago, but I can't promise not to see him."

Yes, I couldn't promise not to see Ethan.

After all, during these seven years of fighting cancer, there wasn't a moment when I didn't think about Ethan.

When I couldn't endure chemotherapy anymore, it was because I clutched the photos Ethan and I had taken together that I could continue holding on.

I went through dozens of surgeries, large and small. Several times I was sent to the emergency room and couldn't wake up.

It was my mom standing by my bed, shouting at me hoarsely:

"Jenny, have you forgotten? You said you wanted to live, to go abroad and personally clear up the misunderstanding with Ethan."

"You said that once you recovered, you'd have me take you abroad to bring Ethan back. If you die, you'll never see Ethan again."

It was because of my mom's shouts, one after another mentioning Ethan, that pulled me back from death's door time and time again.

But in the end, I still failed to beat cancer.

And Ethan had his new life, his new girlfriend, and was about to get married.

But in my final days, being able to spend a simple bit of time with Ethan would be good too.

That's why, after learning Ethan had returned to the country, even when the doctor said that leaving the hospital meant death, I still chose to force myself to check out.