The Risk Form I Signed Alone, The Wedding I Called Off Chapter 04

The Risk Form I Signed Alone, The Wedding I Called Off Chapter 04

The nurses rushed in and pinned my hand down. “What were you thinking, pulling your IV out?”

I couldn’t speak. Sasha was crying and cursing at the same time. “For that piece of garbage, you’d hurt yourself?”

I typed. [Last time. Never again.]

Two in the morning. Bryce came back. He was holding the cassette recorder. The case was cracked. The screen was black.

He stood by my bed. “I got it back.”

I reached for it. He didn’t let go right away. “I’ll find someone who can fix it. The stuff on there—it should still be recoverable.”

I watched him. He finally laid the recorder in my palm. I pressed the power button. Nothing.

I typed. [Did she know what was on it?]

Bryce stayed silent. So I had my answer. She knew.

My grandmother had sung half a verse of an old folk song during her last lucid moment. She’d forgotten the words halfway through and laughed.

She’d asked me, “Elara, is your grandma getting old?”

I told her, “No.”

She never woke up after that. I’d kept that recording for six years. Bryce had listened to it with me for six years. He knew it was my lifeline.

And he still gave it to Hazel. Because Hazel said it had storytelling energy.

I handed him the breakup letter. Only a few lines.

[Bryce, I’m not your fiancée anymore. The wedding’s off. We’ll split the condo. You’re not my family. No more visits, no more signatures, no more responsibility. My health, my voice, whether I live or die—none of it is your concern anymore.]

Bryce read it. His hands started shaking. “Life or die?”

He grabbed my wrist. “What exactly did the doctor say?”

I gave him the biopsy report. When he saw the word malignant, his whole body went slack. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked at him. He remembered on his own. I had told him. He hadn’t listened.

Bryce crouched by the bed. Tears dropped onto the sheets. “Elara, I was wrong… I was so wrong!”

“Don’t give me a death sentence.”

I typed. [You gave me one first.]

He was crying so hard his shoulders shook. I’d never seen him break down like that. But I felt no sympathy. Just exhaustion.

I hit the call button. The nurse came in. I typed. [Please escort him out. I need to rest.]

Bryce wouldn’t move. Sasha called security. As they walked him out, he kept saying, “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

The next day, he didn’t get in. I updated the visitor list. Parents and Sasha only.

My mom and dad drove in from Fairview. My mom saw the gauze on my neck and tears rolled down her face. She didn’t make a sound. She was scared I’d start crying too. My dad stood in the doorway and asked Sasha, “Where’s the guy?”

Sasha said, “Downstairs.”

My dad turned and left. Ten minutes later, he came back. His knuckles were raw. Sasha whispered, “Your dad clocked him.”

My dad set down the thermos. “That punch was for her having to go into surgery alone.”

I typed. Dad, does it hurt?

My dad let out a gruff sound. “No.”

He looked at me. “Does it?”

I didn’t nod. I didn’t shake my head. I just buried my face in the blanket. I didn’t want to cry, but the tears came anyway.

The tears came anyway. Not for Bryce. For the girl who ripped out her own IV and begged him to stay. That was humiliating. And it hurt like hell.