It’s not like you ever wanted to end up in this situation.

Standing still in the rain as you stare blankly up at Yifan’s face, his equally devoid of emotion.

“Why?” he whispers, drops of water clinging to his lashes as he blinks. “Why are you breaking up with me?”

“I have to,” you say, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“Y-yesterday, you just told me you loved me! And we’d get married and have kids and grow old together and everything!”

“Things change, Yifan,” you reply, fighting to keep your voice steady.

“But why so fast? Why?” Yifan’s voice has risen in tone, and he grips your shoulders fiercely, his hands cold as he presses the wet fabric of your shirt into your skin.

“We’re done,” you manage to choke out, pushing his hands away. “Goodbye.”

And you walk away.

He doesn’t need to know that you’re going to die tomorrow.