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Broken Love Story (Love 3) Natasha Madison 2022/8/3 13:53:47

“I’m on my knee asking you to be my wife, asking you to be mine.” I begged her to give me this one thing.

“No,” she said adamantly and then had to walk to the bed to sit down, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

“Why?” I looked at her, taking in her face, knowing I would never forget this moment. There were balloons and a cake ready in the hallway along with all our family members and a priest. I wanted to marry her right away.

“Because you will only get married once in your life. It’s just the way you are; you are loyal to a fault. If you marry me, you will never move on,” she said with tears running down her face. “If you marry me, you will never marry anyone else; you will never have babies. You will die with me, and I won’t do that to you.”

“You think just because I put a ring on you and marry you that I won’t move on? You think a ring is going to stop me from moving on?” I got up, mad that she wasn’t giving me this. “You think regardless of if you marry me or not, that I’ll move on?” I shook my head, the hurt coming from my stomach. “I don’t want anyone but you,” I told her.

“I love you with everything I have,” she told me. “I love you enough not to hold you to the promise that you make me. I love you so much that I won’t let you die with me. You have to promise me,” she said, her breathing getting weaker. “You have to promise me that you’ll live and fall in love.”

The roses fall from her hand. Her hand goes to her chest, and I yell out for help. She closed her eyes and fell into a coma right after that.

The tears run down my face as I come back to now. Looking at the roses move in the breeze, I shake my head. “I can’t believe you never married me.” I try to joke with her, but the hurt is still here seven years later.

I close my eyes, and I’m back to that same day. The balloons were gone, the cake out of my face. We sat by her bed as I held her frail hand in mine, kissing the inside of her wrist where her heart was beating. Faintly. The doctor had just left, and he didn’t have to say what we all knew. There was nothing he could do. Her body was failing. Her parents sat on one side of the bed while I sat on the other, and the tears never stopped. “I love you,” I whispered to her, and her eyes fluttered open.

“I’m tired.” She looked at me. “I can’t do it anymore.” She didn’t have to tell us because we knew. We saw it in her eyes. “Best thing I ever did was join that debate team.” She tried to be funny, but no smile came to her face. “Don’t close yourself off,” she told me. “Live.”

“I love you,” were the only words I could say.

“Then live,” she said. “Do everything we said we would do. Promise me you’ll fall in love.”

“Frankie,” I said as she closed her eyes, and then slowly opened them again.

“Promise,” she whispered, and then closed her eyes. Two hours later, she took her last breath and took my heart with her.

My eyes slowly open as I look at what’s left of her—the cold black stone. “I’m sorry I didn’t do what you told me to.” I lie on my side, resting my head on my arm. I sit here for what seems like forever, then get up and go to my truck. My phone is beeping from calls and messages. My family knows what today is. They give me my space but always call just to check on me and tell me they are here for me.

I see that Samantha has called a couple of times and has also left a couple of messages. Not today, I tell myself, though I’m not sure what that feeling is that creeps in.

I get home, close the door and all the drapes, and take the bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard on my way to the couch. I pour myself a couple of shots, taking them all in a row. The initial burning starts to slowly go away. For two hours, I finish the bottle. The sun’s setting, and I close my eyes, hoping that the darkness takes me until tomorrow. I rest my head, and I’m about to sink into the darkness when a soft knock makes me open my eyes. At first, I think I’ve imagined it, that it’s just in my head, but I hear it again.