Chapter 4 — See You in the Next Life

He fell into a profound silence, a fragile vulnerability rarely seen surfacing in the depths of his eyes: "...Then what if I told you... that I am also dying?"

I froze, staring at him in utter bewilderment: "You... what did you say?"

He offered a bitter, self-deprecating chuckle, lowering his head: "When I stood on the street holding that sign offering myself for hire, it wasn't because I lacked money... but because I also have cancer. I do not have much time left either..."

The room plunged into a deathly stillness. I was completely stunned, my lips trembling, unable to utter a single syllable. Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, gently taking my hand with a tenderness that bordered on humility: "Phon Du, I am letting you hire me not because I need the money... but because... before I die, I too wanted to love someone with all my heart."

He smiled ruefully, yet the deep sorrow in his eyes pierced me with a suffocating pain. Tears finally broke free, impossible to hold back. I shook my head repeatedly, my voice choked: "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why would you hide this from me?"

"And what about you? Why did you keep it a secret from me?" he countered gently.

We gazed at each other in quiet resignation for a long moment, before simultaneously letting out a dry, helpless laugh—a laughter laced with bitter irony. So, both of us had known all along that the other was lying, yet we stubbornly pretended as if nothing were wrong.

I closed my eyes, letting the tears stream freely down my face: "But... if we are like this... two people on the brink of death, what else can we possibly give to one another?"

He squeezed my hand tighter, his warm, deep voice washing over me: "The only thing we can give each other... is the courage to walk hand in hand until the very final breath."

My heart felt as though it were being crushed, every emotional defense completely collapsing: "But... what if I die before you?"

He looked at me without blinking, his gaze steadfast yet infinitely tender: "Then I will live on carrying your share, living for both of us."

Tears overflowed once more, blurring everything before my eyes. Unable to hold back any longer, I lunged forward and buried myself in his embrace. He pulled me tightly against him in silence, whispering softly beside my ear: "From today on, stop trying to drive me away... okay?"

I nodded vigorously, pouring all my remaining strength into my reply: "Okay..."

My tears soaked through the fabric of his shoulder, carrying all the pain, despair, and the faint, flickering hope we clung to in the twilight of our lives.

Phon Du and Chap Ngoan both understood all too well that the days remaining to us could be counted on one hand. Yet, we chose to pretend we did not know, acting as though a vast and endless future still lay ahead. We lived peacefully and gently side by side.

On days when our strength permitted, we sat together by the hospital room window, quietly writing down the lines of our bucket list.

"Ride the Ferris wheel once." I paused, chewing on the pen as I looked up at him with a faint smile, "Do you think that sounds too foolish?"

He gently ruffled my hair: "Not at all. Wherever you want to go, I will go with you."

My eyes suddenly stung with red, and I hurriedly looked down to continue writing: "Take a couple's photoshoot, go see the ocean together, raise a cat..."

But... perhaps we shouldn't get a cat. What if we were to leave... who would it depend upon?

The more I wrote, the softer my voice became, and the heavier my heart grew. When I finished the final line, I slowly raised my head to look at him. Chap Ngoan was still smiling, but the depths of his eyes held the exact same sorrow as mine. We both knew full well that we might never live long enough to fulfill a single one of those wishes.

That evening, as I lay in bed, a sudden wave of violent nausea swept through my body. A metallic, fishy taste surged up into my throat. I bolted upright, forcing myself to swallow the burning agony—yet I could not suppress it, and a mouthful of fresh blood burst forth, staining the bedsheets crimson.

"Phon Du!" He rushed over and pulled me into his arms, his face drained of color with terror.

Weakly leaning against his chest, with traces of blood still lingering on my lips, I forced a smile: "It is alright... I can endure it..."

He held me tighter, his voice trembling: "Stop trying so hard... it breaks my heart..."

I whispered softly: "But... I cannot bear to leave you..."

Unable to hold it back any longer, I buried my face in his chest and wept soundlessly. He gently stroked my back, his voice hoarse: "I cannot bear it either... so... let us hold on just a little longer, okay?"

I nodded against his chest, my tears soaking his shirt.

After my condition took a turn for the worse, chemotherapy caused my hair to fall out in clumps. Looking into the mirror and seeing my thinning hair, a lump formed in my throat, and my eyes turned red.

That night, when Chap Ngoan saw me staring blankly at my reflection, he walked up behind me and wrapped his arms gently around my waist: "Once it falls out, it will grow back. Do not be afraid."

I could no longer bear this cruelty, my voice trembling: "Chap Ngoan... I want to shave it all off... I do not want to watch myself slowly turn into a monster..."

He said nothing, simply turning away to fetch the electric clippers. Then, with infinite care, he helped me shave away the remaining strands. As the cold blade glided across my scalp, I felt as though my heart were being scraped away alongside it. When the hair fell like snow onto the floor, I looked down at the scattered locks, my heart contracting in pain: "Do you think I look... terribly ugly?"

He let out a gentle, comforting laugh, then unexpectedly picked up the clippers and, without a moment's hesitation, shaved his own head clean.

I stared in shock: "What are you doing?!"

He looked straight into my eyes, a tender smile blooming on his face: "There, now we match. Do you still think you look ugly?"

My tears gushed forth once more, blurring my vision completely. I lunged into his arms, holding onto him with all the life I had left: "Why are you such a fool..."

He only smiled. To him, losing his hair meant nothing at all.

The disease grew worse by the day, but we pretended not to notice. Every single day, hand in hand, we strolled through the hospital courtyard.

One ordinary afternoon, we sat quietly on a bench, watching the sunset bleed across the sky. Suddenly, a cruel, piercing pain stabbed through my heart—

An unprecedented panic struck, swallowing my entire being...

I abruptly gripped his hand, tears streaming down my face as I trembled: "Chap Ngoan... I do not want to die!"

He immediately pulled me into his tight embrace, soothing me: "You will not die. You are going to be fine."

Yet I screamed, verging on hysteria: "We have never even argued, never broken up and made up, never raised a cat together, never watched those old movies together! I have not done any of it yet! I do not want to die! I truly do not want to!"

His eyes turned red, but he held me fast, his voice hoarse yet unwavering: "Phon Du... then we will not die. Tonight we will have a massive fight, and tomorrow we will go adopt a cat, alright?"

I stared at him, caught between a sob and a watery laugh: "What is so great about fighting?"

He looked at me with absolute seriousness: "Because only then... will our love feel complete."

Tears rolled down my cheeks, but for the first time in days, a genuine smile touched my lips. I buried my face in his chest, whispering: "Alright... we will fight tonight."

That night, however, we did not fight. We simply lay side by side, holding each other tightly. His fingers brushed softly across my scalp, a tenderness that ached. That gentleness was brimming with both profound love and the shadow of parting.

"Chap Ngoan... will you forget me one day?" I asked in a sudden whisper.

He remained silent for a long time before lowering his head to press a kiss to my forehead: "No."

"Really?" I stubbornly tilted my head up to look at him, my eyes filled with eager longing.

He smiled, his voice as soft as a breeze, yet every word etched itself onto my heart: "Really. I will carry your share... and keep living."

My heart ached, yet it settled into a quiet peace. I rested my head against his chest, closing my eyes to absorb the gentle rhythm of his breathing beside my ear.

That night, we gave ourselves to one another—perhaps for the very first time, and the very last. We both knew full well that our journey had reached its final stretch. But at least... in that fleeting moment, I had him in my life. Even if it was short-lived... it was more than enough.

I closed my eyes, offering a silent prayer: If it is possible, let me be selfish just this once... Let me stay by his side a little longer... just a little longer...

Every story must eventually reach its end.

The doctor told me I had at most one to two months left. I did not cry, nor did I throw a tantrum. I simply listened quietly to every word, then turned my head to look out past the hospital room door. Chap Ngoan stood there, his gaze profound and steady.

I forced a smile, sticking out my tongue to make a silly face at him. He said nothing, simply walking over to pull me into his arms. His body trembled slightly as he held me, sending sharp, twisting pains through my heart.

The day... had finally arrived.

Days flew by in a blur. My body grew weaker with each passing moment, yet our days together remained just as gentle and serene.

Until one fateful night—

I felt an exhaustion unlike anything I had ever known. Yet, I felt deeply happy. Most of the items on my bucket list had already been fulfilled.

It was just that... we never did get that cat. Because we both knew... When we could not even hold onto ourselves, how could we possibly offer a helpless little life a future? We were too unfortunate. We were unworthy of being the masters of another living soul. We had no right to love a cat if we could not guarantee it a full life until the end.

That evening, leaning against his shoulder and looking out at the yellow streetlights glowing beyond the hospital window, I whispered softly: "Chap Ngoan, will you hold me to sleep tonight?"

He paused for a fraction of a second, then gently nodded: "Alright, I will."

He pulled me close as we lay down together on the hospital bed. His embrace remained as warm as ever, but my heart could no longer gather any warmth of its own. I buried my face in his chest, fighting to steady my trembling voice: "Chap Ngoan... if I do not wake up tomorrow morning... please do not be sad for too long, okay?"

His body stiffened, his voice turning rough: "Phon Du... do not scare me like that..."

I let out another soft laugh, hugging him tighter: "I am not scaring you, it is just... I am tired. I simply want to sleep a very, very long sleep..."

He remained silent for a long time before leaning down to press the lightest of kisses to my brow: "Go to sleep, then... I will stay right here with you."

I closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart against my ear, and drifted off into a dream.

In the quiet depths of my heart, I whispered one final thought: "I am sorry, Chap Ngoan. This time... I truly have to go first."