Chapter 6: Through the Crack in the Morning Light

Pale morning light seeped through the crack of the window like a strip of silk. I forced myself upright, shoulders weighed down, both hands instinctively pressing my abdomen. The chill from my palms spread into my skin, carrying a sharp ache with it.

The mirror before me reflected a stranger’s face—gaunt, eyes shadowed, lips so pale it felt as if a mere breeze could blow me away. I stared at myself for a long time, a look both curious and afraid.

“Just a few days… and I’ve become like this? Is it the disease eating away at every cell, or the fear inside me doing the same?” The question looped through my head. A wave of disgust and helplessness welled up, rising into my throat, burning and bitter. I pressed my forehead against the glass; my breath fogged the cold surface with a thin haze.

Footsteps suddenly echoed in the corridor. One by one, steady, closer, heavier. My heart stumbled. Instinctively, I lurched back to the bed, pulled the blanket over me and lay on my side, eyelids half-closed. My breathing slowed; I willed each heartbeat quieter, like someone truly asleep, my ears straining.

The door creaked open, hinges sighing, and a draft of cold air slipped inside. Soap and damp wood mixed in the air—familiar yet strange. Shoes shuffled across the tiles, slow but deliberate. A sharp intuition pricked at me—Kael.

I cracked an eye open just enough to see. It was him.

That tall frame, the crisp shirt, those broad shoulders now visibly thinner, his face drawn. His gaze swept over me, unreadable, worried but tightly held in check. He sat on the edge of the bed, his warm, broad hand brushing my hair, a gesture so familiar it hurt.

Kael… don’t do this… don’t be gentle with me anymore… I screamed inside, but outwardly stayed still, eyes shut. My heart twisted as I thought of how little time I had left. I couldn’t let him know the truth, couldn’t drag him down into the pit with me.

Kael bent down, his lips brushing my forehead. The kiss was so tender I almost broke into tears. He tucked the blanket around me, stood and moved toward the door. I drew a deep breath, thinking it was over.

Then his phone rang—a ringtone I had once set for him, a song I used to love. The sound cut straight into my memory. He answered, his voice low but clear:

“She really doesn’t remember anything. It’s time we carried out the plan.”

I froze. He was speaking loud enough for every word to reach me. Each one struck like a blade into my chest. Plan? Remember what? Kael… what are you saying? Questions pounded in my skull—suspicion, fear, fury spiralling. Kael listened to a few words from the other end, ended the call, and left the room as if nothing had happened.

The door clicked shut. Silence swallowed the space. I opened my eyes wide, shot upright, my back against the wall, hands trembling around my phone. Cold sweat slicked my skin.

“Kael, what are you hiding from me? What are you doing? I’ve trusted you all this time… was it all a lie?” I whispered, my voice shaking, as if speaking louder would shatter some terrible secret.

I fumbled for the phone and powered it on. My fingers trembled over each character, searching through messages, calls—anything that could give me a clue. The screen’s glow cast a cold, greenish light on my face. In my mind, fragments collided: Kael’s eyes, his voice, his touch, the kiss, the word plan he had just spoken.

“No… I have to know the truth, however cruel it is…” I told myself, a tiny vow in the dark.

App after app slid past like dark windows. Nothing obvious. No strange texts, no suspicious numbers—only emptiness that deepened my confusion. But inside that emptiness something felt wrong, as though someone had wiped everything clean before I could see.

I dropped the phone onto the bed, slumped down, arms hanging. My heartbeat roared in my ears. Two months left to live… will I even have the strength to uncover the truth? The words clashed in my head like shards of glass.

A gust of cold wind blew in through the window, sending a small paper slip from the shelf to my feet. I bent down and picked it up. It was a handwritten note—Kael’s script, neat yet hurried:

“Don’t be afraid. Just sleep. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

I froze. I had never seen this note before. I had no idea when he had placed it here. The lines felt like both comfort and threat—a hand on my shoulder you couldn’t tell was embracing or gripping.

“Promise… promise what? What are you planning to do to me, Kael?” I murmured. My voice was hoarse, trembling. I looked around the room; everything familiar had turned strange. Even the mirror, even the bed, seemed to be watching me.

I rose, pressed a palm to my chest, trying to steady my breath. I can’t stay blind like this. I have to take control. The thought flashed like a thin blade of light. I grabbed my notebook and jotted down every detail—footsteps, the phone call, the word plan—all of it, like clues in a case file.

Morning light slanted through the window, cutting a sharp stripe across the floor. I lifted my eyes to that band of brightness as if it were an exit. In my head a whisper formed:

“Kael, whatever you’re hiding… I’ll find out. My time may be short, but no one else will decide my fate.”

I closed the notebook, slid it into my pocket. Outside, Kael’s engine started, the sound receding down the street. The room fell silent again—the stillness before a storm.

I sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the closed door, fists clenched. Somewhere, an invisible hand seemed to be drawing back the curtain of truth, inch by inch.