Page 81 of The Last Sunrise

I grab for my phone on the sand next to our blanket, and the screen appears to be moving as I type as fast as I can. I hit send and the screen dances faster, but I know it’s not really moving. My heart begins to race.

Not now.

Not yet.

Please not yet.

My hand jerks involuntarily, and the phone moves out of my reach. I know I only have a few more seconds of consciousness and I don’t know what’s on the other side of it, but I know what I’ve been preparing for, what I thought I was ready for. But please… please… whoever is listening, not yet. I need more time. I need more time with Julián, with my mom, with this island. I look at Julián and almost wake him up, but I can’t let him see this, it will traumatize him beyond repair. I bend down and kiss his parted lips, and lie down, trying to keep theawareness in my body for just a few more seconds. My eyes start to twitch, and I can barely see his face before they close. I want the last thing I see to be his face, the outline of his stubborn jaw, the curve of his neck.

I’ve never been one to think too much about fairness or self-pity. But now that my time has run out, my hourglass empty, I’m livid. I’ve done everything I was supposed to do: I went out of my way to not hurt people, I smiled at babies on the street and ate vegetables. I’ve done it all to the best of my ability, but this is my fate and it’s not fucking fair. I have so much to do. I never got to show Julián my home country, I didn’t get to see my mom get married or meet Julián at the altar as my husband. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted these things: the baby with golden eyes that Julián and I daydreamed of… All of it is being taken away from me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can feel my body spasming as my ears fill with the sound of flushing water.

Images flicker behind my lids like the ending credits of a film as I lose all control of my body. Amara, her bright smile and sunshine soul. I’m so grateful to have had time with her, even briefly, and I hope her grief won’t consume her. I wish she will spend the time thinking about our chats, our laughs, and I pray that she knows how much she taught me in such a short time. My mother’s face flashes, images of her holding me and dancing around the kitchen, her burning brownies and us laughing, her trying her best to do what she could for me. As my body trembles, I send a silent plea to the universe that she will somehow know that I don’t hold any resentment toward her, and maybe… just maybe, the rest of her life will be easier without having to worry about me.

And Julián, my Julián, who is lying on the sand next to me, the love of my life, the one man I’ve ever loved… The pain of knowing I will never see him again is the most devastating and painful part of all this. Even though I know it’s impossible, I try to control the muscles in my body one last time, desperate to crawl away from him, for him not to be the one who finds me.

I always wondered when my clock would run out, when my Cinderella story would be over, and this, the man I love, who I know loves me more than himself, on a beautiful beach in the Mediterranean Sea, gives me the peace I need. This summer was a dream, a whirlwind of finding and losing myself, sharing moments that I never thought I would have. I lived, I was loved, and I loved with all my failing heart. My vision begins to fade, my dream coming to an end, and I desperately hold on to the vision of Julián’s dimply crooked smile, his infectious laugh, and his warmth, and I slip away into the consuming darkness.

Chapter Thirty-FiveJULIÁN

The annoyingly familiar sound of seagulls fills the breezy air. Ry is still asleep in my arms. I’m shocked she hasn’t been woken up by them and their calls. The sun is bright, beaming on our skin. I hug Ry’s body closer to mine and she doesn’t mumble or make that little sigh noise that she usually does. Then again, we did spend most of our day in the sun yesterday, so she must be worn-out. I close my eyes and listen to her breath, planning to fall back asleep until she wakes me up. She is so incredibly, magnificently breathtaking. The sun reflecting off her tanned skin, her beauty is so much more than the surface. Saints, I fucking love this woman. I don’t know what the hell I did in my past lives to deserve someone like her to love me, but I vow to never take it for granted, to never take her for granted. I haven’t imagined loving anyone outside of my bloodline in my life. I lean over and kiss her slightly opened lips.

Her breath is so quiet I can’t hear it over the sound of the sea, and I don’t feel her back moving up and down against myhand. I don’t hear the soft breaths of air escaping her lips like I always do. Something inside me churns. I jump up, putting my hand on her chest, and she still doesn’t move.

“Ry.” I shake her shoulder gently. Her head rocks to the side.

“No, no, no. Ry!” I grab her shoulders and lift her to sit up. I feel for her heartbeat. It gently pumps against my palm. Thank fucking god.

Her head falls back in an unnatural way, and my entire world collapses, folding in on itself, and I pray to the saints that I disappear with it, like the sand does into the sea, with her.

Chapter Thirty-SixJULIÁN

The hospital is mayhem, voices echoing, whispering, screaming. My hands tremble as I beg the woman behind the desk for any information on Ry’s consciousness. Isolde and my pare come rushing in, Isolde collapsing to her knees, while my pare pulls her up, carrying her weight as we all try to understand what’s happening.

“She must get the surgery to remove them. They’ve shifted, and there’s nothing outside of surgery we can do,” the surgeon and his team explain to the three of us.

“She doesn’t want that. She’s never wanted that.” Isolde is hysterical. Her voice pure agony.

“She must. We have to,” I interrupt.

“It’s her choice, Julián, and I can’t take her choice from her. I’ve tried for years. She won’t even hear of it. The surgery is extremely dangerous, even with the best surgeon, and she would never want it. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so many times.” My father wraps his arms around her shaking shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Julián. I know you love my daughter, but I have known and loved her her entire life and I know she will never forgive us if it goes wrong.”

“At least she will be alive to be angry! I made her a promise to keep her here with me, and I refuse to break it! I don’t care if she never speaks to me again, and you can hate me all you want, as long as her heart is still beating! We have to give her a chance!” I shout, slamming my fist against the desk. The nurse behind it jumps in shock.

“Her heart may beat, but her mind could be gone! Do you know what happens when it goes wrong?”

“I know about Audra, yes. But I’ve spent weeks doing research, and there are many cases of success—many of them—and she will be one. I promised her, Isolde. Please, we have to.” I shove my shaking phone with its shitty cracked screen toward her face, scrolling through article after article, post after post.

“But she’s always been so against it. She’s refused more times than I can count. I’ve taken so much from her. I can’t make this choice for her. You may have spent weeks with her, but I’ve spent her entire life with her.”

“That was before! She has so much to live for, so much to do. Please don’t take her away from me.” I feel my knees hit the hard tile floor and I try to stand back up.

“You think you’re the only one who loves her? The only one who wants her to live? I’m her mother, and I’m the reason she has this condition. I passed it to her and she’s the one suffering.” The anguish in Isolde’s guilt-ridden confession pains me.

“No.” I reach for her hands to beg, but she pulls away. “You aren’t the reason. You didn’t know and you spent her entire lifetrying to keep her alive, so don’t stop now! We both need her. I know how much you need her. Who are you without her? Who are any of us? The world needs her. Please, Isolde. Please don’t take her chance at life away.”

Conflict, anguish, absolute devastation, and the tiniest bit of hope flash over her face as she stares at me in silence. “I don’t know…” she finally says, and I stand fully.

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