Alder opened the test results, his face void of any emotion. Neither sadness nor relief crossed his features—only a silent tension as his eyes scanned the page. He stared at the result for a long time, not moving, not blinking. Just… staring.
It seemed he really couldn't change her fate.
His chest tightened as he turned toward the doctor, his long-time friend. "What is the cause of this? Why does she have a terminal illness?" Alder asked, clinging to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there had been a mistake.
Dr. Edward adjusted his glasses, his expression careful and heavy with meaning. "Alder, I understand this is hard to hear, but Willow's diagnosis is glioblastoma multiforme. It's an aggressive brain tumor more commonly seen in patients over 45 years old, but unfortunately, it can occur in younger adults as well. Being 28 doesn't rule it out—it's rare, but it does happen."
Alder swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk. "What's the cause?"
Edward sighed, running a hand over his trimmed beard. He paused, clearly choosing his words with care. "Glioblastoma is unpredictable, and its cause is not well understood. There's no clear trigger, though some risk factors like genetics and exposure to certain chemicals have been studied. What's important now is focusing on her treatment and quality of life."
"But she's so young," Alder said, his voice low, almost whispering.
"I know," Edward replied gently, his eyes filled with sympathy.
"Is there really nothing that can be done about it?" Alder's voice cracked with desperation. He refused to just give up on her. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
"A surgery can help," Edward said, keeping his tone honest, "but it's dangerous. And it doesn't mean she still won't die. It can only slow it down—maybe stop it for twelve months at best. Even that isn't guaranteed."
Alder took a shaky breath. "I noticed before she collapsed… it seemed like she couldn't see me." He hesitated, then added, "Is it due to the sickness?"
Edward nodded solemnly. "According to the symptoms of this illness: persistent and worsening headaches, vision problems—like blurry sight or sudden blindness. So yes, at that time, she probably couldn't see. Sometimes she might feel nausea or stomach pain, especially in the morning. Confusion, memory loss, mood swings, depression… even weakness or numbness on one side of the body."
Alder's heart ached. "Are you saying later… she might lose her memories?"
"Very possible," Edward admitted. "And she might start feeling depressed. You need to always make her happy in the little time she has left."
Alder didn't respond. He just sat there—motionless—in the doctor's office, grief consuming him like a silent wave. The weight of Edward's words crashed against his chest, knocking the wind out of him without making a sound.
Eventually, Alder stood from the chair, his movements slow, mechanical.
"Alder, are you okay?" Edward asked, his concern genuine.
"I am," Alder said with a small nod, his voice flat. Then he turned and left the office.
"Take it easy, Alder," Edward called after him. But Alder didn't reply.
He walked to Willow's ward, stopped at the door, and placed his hand on the doorknob. But he didn't open it. He stood still, paralyzed by hesitation. His fingers curled tightly around the handle, but his body refused to move forward.
What should he say if he walks in?
What words could possibly be enough?
He couldn't find any.
So instead, he stepped back and slumped into a seat in the corridor. He sat there for a long time, drained and numb, as if every ounce of emotion had been wrung out of him.
After what felt like hours, he finally pulled out his phone and called Leif.
"Hello, bro," Leif's voice echoed through the speaker, cheerful and unaware.
"Leif," Alder said slowly, his voice shaking.
Leif immediately picked up on the change. "What's wrong, Alder?"
"Leif…" Alder repeated, but this time his voice cracked. He sniffled, his chest tightening until he could barely breathe. "Willow's dying."
"What?" Leif asked, stunned.
"She has a brain tumor," Alder said, trying hard to keep his voice steady, but failing.
"Where are you?" Leif asked quickly.
"At Sonic Hospital."
"I'll be there soon," Leif replied and ended the call.
Alder looked even more lost than before. What was he supposed to do now? What could he possibly say to Willow?
How could she be dying? Why was she dying?
His mind drifted back to the past—to when he was still in Willow's captivity.
"No, no, no, no," she said repeatedly, her voice rising with each word, flailing her arms like she could swat the idea away.
"Stay with me for two months and if you still don't want me you can leave,"
Why hadn't he noticed something was wrong back then?
Why?
Alder's eyes looked empty as he stared into nothing.
---
Meanwhile, at Leif's house that night...
Leif had been about to sleep when Alder called. He immediately got out of bed beside his wife, Iris, and began dressing up in a hurry.
"Where are you going? It's so late at night," Iris asked, confused.
"To the hospital," Leif replied, grabbing his phone and car keys.
Iris followed him out, worried. "Who's sick?" she asked, but Leif didn't answer.
In the hallway, he collided with Sage, who had just returned from an outing.
"Where are you going in such a rush?" Sage asked, surprised.
"Willow is sick. She's in the hospital with Alder," Leif replied.
Iris stopped in her tracks, hearing this.
"Let's go together," Sage said and followed Leif outside. As she got into the car, she called Reed. "Come to the hospital—Willow's sick."
Back inside, Iris stood still, repeating to herself, "Willow, Willow, Willow… it's always Willow."
"What's going on here?" Juniper came down from her room, clearly just woken up.
"It's Willow," Iris replied. "She's sick and at the hospital."
"So?" Juniper asked coldly.
"The Smith siblings all seem to want to take care of her," Iris muttered bitterly.
"I wonder what that witch gave to my children," Juniper said, voice laced with anger, then turned and walked back to her room.
Iris didn't move. She just stood there, frozen in jealousy and resentment.
When will she actually leave our lives? she wondered.
---
At the hospital...
Leif, Sage, and Reed arrived at the same time—Reed had picked up Sage, making it easier for them to meet.
They found Alder sitting in the same spot, unmoved for hours.
"Alder, what's wrong?" Reed asked, his voice careful.
Alder rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaustion heavy in his eyes. "Willow has a brain tumor… and she's dying. A month or two, that's what the doctor said."
Leif immediately placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's okay."
"Where is she?" Sage asked.
"In her ward," Alder replied and led them there. But just as he reached the door, Sage stopped him.
"Let me talk to her first," she said.
The men nodded in agreement—after all, the two women had always been best friends.
Inside the ward, Willow heard someone come in. Hope bloomed in her voice.
"Alder?"
She had been calling him non-stop. When she asked the nurses, they told her he'd been sitting in the hallway for hours without moving. She figured he needed space, time to absorb the shock.
But it wasn't Alder—it was Sage.
"Sage," Willow whispered as Sage approached.
"It's been a while," Willow said softly.
But before she could say more, Sage raised her hand and slapped her—hard. Willow's head turned with the impact. She clutched her cheek but didn't protest.
"I'm sorry," Willow said, her voice small.
"Sorry? Willow, you're so heartless," Sage snapped. "You left for four years and came back now, only to be diagnosed with a terminal illness?"
"Why did you come back?" Sage asked, her voice cracking. "Did you come back just to put us all in pain again?"
"Tell me—how do you think I'll live without you? Forget about me—what about Alder? He's gone through so much."
"Willow, please don't die," Sage begged, pulling her into a tight hug. "Please don't die."
"Sage…" Willow whimpered into her best friend's arms. "I don't want to die". She whispered "I really don't want to die. I'm too young to die…"
She broke down completely, sobbing bitterly in Sage's embrace. Whether it was the slap or the emotions she'd bottled up, Willow could no longer hold it in. In the face of death, she wasn't as strong as she had thought she was.
The two best friends clung to each other, both crying uncontrollably.
Outside the ward, their voices were audible.
The moment Sage slapped Willow, Alder had wanted to burst in, but Leif and Reed held him back.
Then came the heartbreaking words.
"I don't want to die…"
Alder couldn't take it anymore. Tears fell from his eyes. He turned to walk away but was pulled into a hug by Leif. There, in his brother's arms, he cried bitterly. Reed gently patted his back.
"It's going to be okay," Reed said.
But deep down, none of them knew if it really would be.
---
The next day at the Larkspur house…
The same elderly woman from before was now seated in the living room. Her butler stood by her side, calm but imposing.
Silas and Rachael sat across from them, heads bowed. Silas was visibly shaking—her presence alone enough to make him sweat.
"Silas, how have you been?" the old lady asked, her voice calm but sharp.
"I… I've been fine, Madam Grace," he answered nervously.
"Obviously," Madam Grace replied with a tight-lipped smile full of sarcasm.
Silas forced a chuckle, not daring to meet her gaze.
"We're here for young Miss," the butler said. "Her daughter."
"Why would you come for my daughter?" Silas asked, fear creeping into his voice. If they took Willow and she revealed everything he'd done…
"Because she's my granddaughter," Madam Grace said with a piercing look.
"She isn't around now," Rachael jumped in quickly, trying to ease the tension.
"It isn't your time to speak yet," Madam Grace snapped, silencing her immediately.
"We're not here to fight," the butler added. "We just want to take young Miss back."
Silas's palms turned clammy with cold sweat. So they really are here to take Willow... But he said nothing.
"I heard you have two daughters… Maple and Willow," Madam Grace said, voice thoughtful. "I don't recognize Emerald's daughter because I was told they both look like you. But I heard Maple is more beautiful—she has Emerald's smile."
She said it like she was lost in memory—of her daughter, Emerald.
Rachael and Silas exchanged a nervous glance.
Silas opened his mouth to reply. "You must be mistaken. Actually, Will—"