CHAPTER1
843 Words
Salomi pushed open the front door, the weight of a long day at Emerald University clinging to her. In the living room, her mother sat cross-legged on the rug, folding a small mountain of laundry.
“Oh, you’re already here,” her mother said, glancing up. “Go eat. I cooked dumplings.”
“All right. Later,” Salomi murmured, kicking off her shoes.
“When’s your next class?”
“Not until the day after tomorrow. Why?” she asked, frowning slightly.
“I can’t go to your father's tomorrow. You’ll have to watch over him at the hospital. I need to go to work.”
“All right.” Salomi’s voice softened. “When is Dad supposed to have surgery?”
“Next week. We’re still waiting for the test results.”
Salomi nodded and slipped upstairs. Her father had been suffering from acute liver failure for months. The yellowing of his skin, the pain in his upper abdomen—she’d noticed it all long before he agreed to see a doctor. By then it was already worse than any of them had hoped.
Later, she changed clothes and went down to eat.
“Who’s with Dad now at the hospital?” she asked as she poured herself a glass of juice.
“Your grandmother. I might go there later,” her mother said. “If I do, I’ll leave the house to you. Watch over it.”
“Okay.”
Salomi carried her snack to the living room and sank onto the sofa beside her mother, flipping to her favorite kids’ channel.
“You’re always watching children’s shows,” her mother teased. “If you wanted kids so much, why take engineering? You should have been an elementary school teacher.”
“I don’t plan to be a teacher, Mom. That’s a lifetime of studying,” Salomi laughed.
“Then why always the kids’ channel?”
“It reminds me of my childhood,” she whispered. “Every time I watch this show… I remember my first love.”
“Oh my!” her mother laughed. “Is that boy with the handkerchief on your mind again?”
“Yes.” Salomi hugged a pillow, eyes fixed on the screen. “I wonder when I’ll see him again.”
“You can’t even recognize him by his face now. He’s grown up, like you said—your age. Maybe he looks different.”
“I’ll know. He has a scar on his leg.”
“You’ll never get married if you keep looking for him,” her mother muttered.
“It’s fine. He’s the only one I want to marry.”
“Crazy girl! I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!” Her mother shook her head and walked away.
Salomi only laughed and turned back to the TV.
The next day, she woke early, prepared food for her father, hailed a taxi and arrived at Hawkins Hospital. In the elevator, a group of nurses gossiped.
“Professor Luna’s patient is so annoying,” one nurse groaned. “Always calling me for things she can do herself. ‘Get me my book,’ ‘Buy me chocolate’…”
“Paula Dela Torre?” another asked.
“Yeah, the Congressional representative's daughter. Spoiled brat.”
Salomi kept silent, waiting for her floor. When the doors opened, she squeezed past them with a polite, “Excuse me.”
Her father greeted her with open arms. “Aigoo, my princess! I missed you!”
“I cooked for you,” she said, unpacking containers. “Please eat, Dad. The house is boring without you.”
“It’s not so bad here,” he chuckled. “And there’s a young man from the next room who keeps me company. You’re about the same age. You two would be compatible.”
“Dad! Stop,” she said, laughing in embarrassment.
“That’s right—you still have that first love in your heart.”
As she set the food on the table, her eyes caught a black notebook left on the sofa. Out of curiosity she opened it:
THEODORE PROPERTY
10 THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE
1. See the city lights.
2. Go to the sea and swim.
3. Ride a hot-air balloon.
4. Read thirty books.
5. Go on a road trip.
6. Watch every movie everyone talks about.
7. Love deeply.
8. Forgive.
9. Sleep under the moon and stars.
1o. Donate my hair and organs.
Salomi’s heart tightened. A stranger writing a list like this—someone her own age—someone already thinking of death.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Don’t touch that,” her father said gently. “That’s Theodore’s notebook. He must’ve forgotten it here. Just leave it. He’ll come for it.”
Salomi closed it slowly. But her curiosity had been sparked. Who was Theodore? Why did he think this way? And why, despite all the people clinging to life, did someone like him seem ready to let go?
- Writer
