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When I was younger, before I found out about my sickness, I always thought I had a minor case of asthma. I would have breathing troubles when I played around the yard and would eventually get tired easily. Because of this, I stayed inside the house most of the time, reading books instead of being an active kid who ran around the neighborhood with the other kids. My mother would always push me to move around but I would tell her that I prefer reading instead of playing hide and seek.

 

 

 

That was a lie.

 

 

 

I always wanted to play outside, however I didn’t want to embarrass myself with my breathing problems. Who would like to run around with someone for only one minute and spend the next five resting to even out her breathing? No one. So I prevented that humiliation by just staying inside the house. By the windowsill. Reading. And watching the other kids from afar.

 

 

 

And then one night, when I was eleven, I had a really bad fever and was confined in the hospital.

 

 

 

It was the night I found out about my sickness.

 

 

 

It was Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Yeah, I didn’t know what that was as well. So, basically, I just called it cancer.

 

 

 

It was cancer, anyways.

 

 

 

I had to undergo a lot of tests to figure out what stage it was in. I was fine with them taking my blood numerous times but it was the lumbar puncture I hated the most. I remembered wishing I was just dead instead of going through that intense pain. That was how much it hurt.

 

 

 

We found out I was already in stage two. And in a span of seven years, it had spread and reached stage four. So now, here I was, still breathing but with cancer cells slowly eating my bones and brain away.

 

 

 

Because of this sickness, I was in the hospital constantly. This was probably the reason why I didn’t have any friends. The only person that stood as my comrade was my mother.

 

 

 

There was a time I felt guilty for having this cancer that I would blame myself for giving her a sick daughter. I used to tell her that I hoped she had adopted someone else so she wouldn’t have to go through such trials. However, whenever I did, she would hug me so tight I couldn’t breathe and whispered to my ears with the softest voice, “Never say that, my child. You might not have come from me but you’ve always been the daughter I dreamt of having.”

 

 

 

Sadly, the pain was just too much that I would surrender.

 

 

 

The three scars on each of my wrists were constant reminders of such weakness.

 

 

 

I had no idea why God wouldn’t just let me end it sooner which led me to having a list of reasons why He was unfair.

 

 

 

He took my birth mother. He didn’t give me a father. He took my adopted parents. He imprisoned me in a foster house. He bestowed me cancer and now, he placed Kwon Jiyong in my short-lived life.

 

 

 

I knew why God let me meet the one man I could never have. God hates me.

 

 

 

After Jiyong got his tattoos on his arms, he did take me to a random restaurant that was suggested from a random bystander in the streets. He ordered the most expensive meal on the menu for both of us and paid for it. I was going to pay at least half of it but he stopped me by holding my wrist that was on its way to my wallet. I was scared he could feel the scars but he didn’t mention anything.

 

 

 

He just looked at me, gave me his breathtaking smile and whispered with such power, “Just enjoy the ride, Dara.”

 

 

 

After our expensive meal, Jiyong took my number. When I asked for his reason, he said, “I have to let you know when our bike ride to the beach is.”

 

 

 

“As long as you promise we keep our clothes on the entire time we’re on the beach.”

 

 

 

“Aw, what’s the fun in that?” he grinned. When he saw that I was about to reject the idea, he quickly added, “Okay, okay. I’ll keep my clothes on.”

 

 

 

Jiyong and I didn’t go to the beach until three weeks later. He was too busy getting ready for their debut. He did, however, texted and called me from time to time, making sure I was following the after-care for my tattoo and to just… talk.

 

 

 

It was good that we didn’t see each other during that period because my cancer decided it didn’t like my spontaneous act of getting a tattoo and it showed me by giving me a fever that lasted more than a week.

 

 

 

I thought my end was coming.

 

 

 

I would whisper every night, “This is it,” and every time I would hear Jiyong wishing me a good night, I would curse the higher power and asked him why He was so unfair for giving me someone that would never be within my reach.

 

 

 

I would open my eyes each morning; half expecting I would see the fires of hell.

 

 

 

Yes, hell. God would never let me enter the gates of heaven if He hated me so much.

 

 

 

However, I would see my white ceiling and the first thing I would do was call him and say, “Good morning, Jiyong.”

 

 

 

After a few days of that, I was scared that I was bothering Jiyong with my morning calls. He was a busy person and he had already mentioned how stressed he was. So, I stopped it.

 

 

 

During lunch one day, when I was trying to force my body to accept food, which I found out was futile because I would end up on my knees in front of the toilet after every five bites, Jiyong messaged me, “Hmmm… Are you still sleeping?”

 

 

 

I tilted my head to the side, curious of his question, “Nope. I’ve been awake since 7am. Why?”

 

 

 

“Oh. I didn’t get a call from you this morning, so I thought you were still sleeping.”

 

 

 

“I didn’t know I was to call you every morning.”

 

 

 

“Why wouldn’t you?”

 

 

 

“Why would I?”

 

 

 

“Because I call you to say good night all the time.”

 

 

 

“So in return, I should call you to say good morning all the time?”

 

 

 

“Yes.”

 

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

The conversation didn’t make any sense but I guessed I wasn’t bothering him so eventually; I started and ended my day hearing Jiyong’s voice.

 

 

 

Jiyong asked me for my address one day, he didn’t tell me the reason why but I just mindlessly gave it to him anyways. The next day, I got his package in the mail. It was their group’s first single. He made sure I listened to each song by messaging me that night asking for my favorite track.

 

 

 

“I like A Fool of Tears,” I texted him.

 

 

 

He immediately replied with, “That wasn’t my solo! As my friend, you should like my solo the most.”

 

 

 

I stared at the word ‘friend’ for a good ten minutes.

 

 

 

Jiyong couldn’t be my friend. He wasn’t allowed to be my friend. He didn’t deserve to have a friend like me.

 

 

 

Imagine waking up one morning, finding out that one of your friends had passed away. Just thinking about it already hurt like hell and I didn’t plan on hurting Jiyong like that.

 

 

 

When I didn’t reply to him, he messaged, “Okay fine. You can like A Fool of Tears the most as long as I was your favorite part.”

 

 

 

Oh he was but I didn’t let him know that. I didn’t reply to any of his text for the rest of the night. It was mostly asking me why I hadn’t answered him or if something was wrong.

 

 

 

Yes, something was wrong. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t lead Jiyong into thinking that we could ever have a friendship or my wishful thinking, that there could be more.

 

 

 

So I halted my ‘live your life to the fullest’ plan and that night, I slept without Jiyong’s voice and I begged God to just end it now.

 

 

 

When my eyes, unluckily, saw the white ceiling the next morning, I sighed and called Jiyong because my willpower was just that weak against him.

 

 

 

His greeting suited my doomed fate, “I thought you died on my last night!”

 

 

 

“Oh you have no idea.”

 

 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

 

 

“Nothing important.”

 

 

 

“Well, you can’t die on me yet. I still have to show you the wonders of life and maybe… because I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

 

 

 

I wasn’t scared when I found out about my sickness.

 

I wasn’t scared when none of the treatments worked.

 

I wasn’t scared when I tried to cheat on life during those times of weakness.

 

I wasn’t scared when I was told that my life was ending soon.

 

 

 

However, I was scared that now I had Jiyong in my ill-fated life, I finally had a reason to fear death.

 

 

 

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