Alexander’s face changed completely.
—Goodbye?
His arms tightened around me.
—Elena, what are you talking about?
I wanted to answer.
Instead, another wave of pain stole my strength.
The last thing I felt before losing consciousness was Alexander lifting me from the snow.
And Clara’s frightened voice behind him.
—Alexander, hurry!
When I woke up, I was in a small hospital room.
Outside the window, Iceland was completely white.
For a few seconds, I didn’t remember where I was.
Then I saw Alexander.
He sat beside the bed.
His coat was gone.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up.
There was dried snow in his hair.
And for the first time in three years, his eyes were fixed entirely on me.
—You’re awake.
I looked toward the other side of the room.
—Where’s Clara?
His expression stiffened.
—At the hotel.
—You should be with her.
—The doctor said you need someone here.
I smiled faintly.
—There are nurses.
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
—Elena.
That tone.
The old tone.
The one he used whenever I refused to eat when I was sick.
My chest hurt for reasons that had nothing to do with cancer.
He leaned closer.
—What illness do you have?
I looked away.
—Nothing important anymore.
—Don’t lie to me.
I almost laughed.
Three years apart, and suddenly he thought he still had the right to demand honesty from me.
—Why do you care?
His face froze.
I continued quietly:
—You didn’t ask when I collapsed on the bus.
—You didn’t ask why I was alone.
—You didn’t even say my name until there was blood on the snow.
Alexander went completely silent.
Then the door opened.
A doctor entered holding my medical records.
—Ms. Bennett, we contacted your oncologist with the information you provided.
Alexander stood.
—Oncologist?
The doctor looked between us.
—Are you family?
—No.
I answered before Alexander could.
Something in his eyes broke.
The doctor nodded.
—Then I can only discuss details with the patient.
Alexander didn’t move.
—Elena.
—Please leave.
His hands clenched.
But eventually he walked out.
For once, he respected my choice.
Twenty minutes later, I found him standing in the hallway.
Clara had arrived.
She was crying.
Apparently, she had discovered enough from the guide and hospital admission forms to understand.
When she saw me, she rushed over.
—Why didn’t you tell us you were this sick?
I smiled.
—We met yesterday.
She stopped.
Then she looked at Alexander.
His face was frighteningly pale.
—How long? he asked.
I didn’t answer.
—Elena, how long have you known?
—Five months.
His breath caught.
—And you came here alone?
—That was the plan.
He stared at me.
Then suddenly:
—Why Iceland?
I laughed softly.
That question hurt more than anything else.
—You really forgot.
His expression changed.
Silence stretched between us.
Then I watched realization arrive.
Slowly.
Cruelly.
The aurora photograph.
Our promise.
Thirty years old.
If you get tired, I’ll carry you to the end of the world.
Alexander stepped backward as if someone had struck him.
—No.
I said nothing.
—You came because of that promise?
—Partly.
His eyes reddened.
—Elena…
—Don’t.
I looked toward Clara.
She deserved better than standing between the ruins of something that ended before she entered it.
—You’re getting married.
Clara suddenly shook her head.
—We’re not married yet.
I looked at her.
She forced a small smile.
—I introduced him as my husband because it’s easier with strangers. Our ceremony is next month.
Alexander closed his eyes.
Somehow that made things worse.
He was one month away from beginning another life.
And I had arrived to finish mine.
That evening, the storm trapped us at the hospital.
Alexander refused to leave.
I didn’t have enough strength to argue.
Near midnight, I woke and found him sitting beside the window.
—Why did we break up?
I stared at him.
—You don’t remember that either?
—Tell me what you remember.
I almost refused.
Then I realized I no longer needed to protect either of us from the truth.
—Your father offered me money.
Alexander’s head snapped toward me.
Three years earlier, Hawthorne Group had been facing an internal battle.
Alexander was supposed to marry the daughter of a powerful investor.
Instead, he had chosen me.
His father came to my apartment.
He placed medical records on the table.
My mother’s.
She needed expensive treatment.
Then he offered a deal.
Leave Alexander.
Disappear.
And he would pay every bill.
I had refused.
Until Alexander’s father showed me documents proving that if Alexander continued fighting his family for me, he would lose control of the company his mother had left him.
So I chose for him.
I lied.
I told Alexander I had met someone richer.
I told him loving him had become exhausting.
I watched his face turn cold.
And I let him hate me.
Alexander stared at me now.
—My father paid for your mother’s treatment?
—Yes.
—And you never took anything for yourself?
I smiled.
—I suppose your investigators never checked that part.
He looked destroyed.
My mother survived another two years.
Then she died.
And shortly afterward, I received my own diagnosis.
Alexander covered his face with both hands.
—Three years.
His voice broke.
—I hated you for three years.
—It was easier that way.
He looked up.
—For whom?
I couldn’t answer.
Because perhaps, in trying to save him, I had been just as arrogant as everyone else who made choices for other people.
The storm cleared two days later.
And that night, the aurora appeared.
Green light moved across the Icelandic sky like silk.
I was too weak to travel far.
So the hospital arranged a wheelchair near a large viewing window.
I sat there wrapped in blankets.
Alexander stood several steps behind me.
Clara stood beside him.
Then she quietly removed her engagement ring.
Alexander looked at her.
—Clara—
—Don’t.
Her eyes were wet, but her voice was gentle.
—You were trying very hard to love me.
She smiled sadly.
—I think I always knew there was someone you were trying not to remember.
She placed the ring in his hand.
Then she came to me.
—He’s an idiot.
I laughed weakly.
—That hasn’t changed.
She hugged me carefully.
Then she left.
Alexander remained silent for a long time.
Finally he sat beside me.
Outside, the aurora brightened.
—We made it, he whispered.
I looked at the sky.
—Three years late.
His eyes filled with tears.
—I’m sorry.
This time, I believed him.
But believing an apology doesn’t mean the past disappears.
I reached for his hand.
Not because everything was forgiven.
Not because we had magically returned to who we were.
Simply because, after all those years, neither of us needed to pretend anymore.
Alexander held my fingers carefully.
—Elena, if there’s anything you still want—
I interrupted him.
—Stay until the lights disappear.
He nodded.
—Okay.
And he did.
No promises about forever.
No desperate vows.
Just one night beneath the aurora we had once promised each other.
For the first time in three years, Alexander didn’t try to fix the past.
He simply stayed beside me while it finally ended.
