He Took Her To World Cup, I Left Him

Chapter 3

Brrring. Brrring.

An international call rang through the silent living room.

I watched the name "Sebastian Shaw" flash on the screen and let it ring until it died on its own.

He called again almost at once, refusing to give up. In the end, I swiped to answer.

"Linnea, why did you leave the group chat?"

His voice came across the line without any clear emotion, that same gentle tone of his that left no room for disagreement. "You're putting everyone in an awkward position."

I said nothing, only listened.

"I know you're upset. I'm not blaming you." He paused, softening further. "But don't let this sour a friendship that goes back so many years. Everyone is worried about you."

Worried about me?

Worried enough that not one of them had thought to ask what had actually happened? Worried enough that all they could do was tell me to be "magnanimous"?

"Rejoin the chat," he went on, an edge of command slipping into his voice, "and post something to clear the air. Tell them you trust me, that it was a misunderstanding."

My eyes drifted to the dull grey sky outside the window, and something like laughter rose in my throat.

"Don't embarrass Vivienne," he added. "She's sensitive. After all that talk, she must be feeling terrible."

She was sensitive.

I was a woman with late-stage cancer about to die, and that didn't matter, did it?

I didn't speak, and he kept on murmuring through the phone.

"Linnea, I know your health isn't good right now. Your emotions are unstable, you're overthinking." His voice turned tender. "Don't worry. I'll come straight home after the final. I'll be with you, we'll get you proper treatment, money is no object, I'll find the best doctors there are."

He sounded so sincere, so earnest.

A month ago, I might have wept at those words and done exactly as he asked, rejoined the chat and written something gracious to save his face and his friends'.

But all I felt now was tiredness. An endless, bottomless tiredness.

I turned the words "She's sensitive" over and over in my mind, and at last, I actually laughed, low and quiet.

"All right," I said.

On the other end, Sebastian seemed to exhale. "Hurry, then. Everyone's waiting."

I hung up, requested to rejoin the group, and the room there was silent, as if every one of them were waiting for my statement.

I tapped the message box and slowly typed out a single line.

Linnea: Have fun, all of you. I won't make a fuss anymore.

Sent.

Then I muted the phone and tossed it aside.

Not long after, the hospital called. It was my attending physician's number. I hesitated, then picked up.

"Ms. Shaw, where are you? This is extremely dangerous." The doctor's voice was urgent. "Please come back to the hospital and resume treatment as soon as possible. Otherwise, your condition will deteriorate very quickly."

I leaned back onto the sofa and watched a withered leaf drift down past the window.

"There's no need," I said calmly. "Thank you. I'm choosing to stop treatment."