That night, Julian put on the shirt I had given him. I don’t know when he dug it out; it looked so new, as if the shirt itself never imagined it would see the light of day again. Julian took down the framed love letters, picked a bunch of sunflowers, and quietly stayed in the house. He had thought about going to the cave to replicate my death, but the place had long been sealed off and was inaccessible.
I even took a moment to check it out. At the foot of the mountain, beyond the caution tape, lay many
white chrysanthemums.
When I returned, I found Julian lying peacefully on the floor, his expression calm. I quickly realized what had happened. Sure enough, I found an empty pill bottle under the sofa. Though I didn’t love Julian anymore, I couldn’t bear to watch someone die right in front of me. I moved my lips, trying to touch him, but my attempts to help were futile.
1:35 pm
<
But after several tries, I quickly realized I could slightly touch Julian. I grabbed his hand with all my might and tried to reach his phone, which lay nearby. One of his friends was calling. If there was still time, Julian could wake up.
Just as I was struggling to touch the phone, the door suddenly burst open, and light flooded in. A large group of people stood outside, led by those who were always around Julian. They probably hadn’t seen anything like this before; they were all pale with fright, not daring to utter a word. I don’t know who called the police, or who found the first–aid kit. The house was full of people, and my ears
ere filled with chaotic, hurried footsteps.
were
I didn’t get closer. Instead, I found a clear spot to stand, quietly watching it all unfold. Compared to me, Julian was lucky. Someone remembered him, someone loved him, someone would choose to save him in times of crisis.
Until the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics methodically placed Julian on a stretcher, this whole chaotic scene finally came to an end. No one saw that I stood nearby the entire time, watching it
all.
It seemed I could feel again. I felt the cool night air, the gentle breeze. And finally, an empty hunger, and thirst. I don’t know how long I stood there, until a light rain began to fall, and the streetlights turned on. Memories of Julian flashed through my mind like a reel, and in a daze, I saw my eighteen–year–old self. My face was innocent and youthful, smiling brightly, bathed in sunshine.
I had fantasized about death, about dying peacefully of old age, about accidental demise. Julian taught me how to love. But we both underestimated how much time could change things, turning intense emotions into a forgotten chapter.
I cared too much about that fleeting moment of happiness, so I cried but wouldn’t let go. Seasons changed; our love had long since vanished, leaving only mutual torment.
If only we hadn’t gone to that mountain that day. If only we had never met. In my last moments of life, I had thought this, too.
But there are no “what ifs.”
This was the ending I chose for myself, with my own hands.
The night was misty, there wasn’t a single star in the sky, and even the moon was hidden behind the clouds. The streets were quiet at night. The streetlights went dark at some point, and I was plunged into darkness again. I suddenly remembered the despair I felt during those countless days and nights trapped in that mountain cave.
4:35 pm
<
A gust of wind blew, the rain stopped, and finally, I saw the moon peeking through the clouds. As that single beam of pure white light shone down, I, too, dissipated from the world.
10
