Chapter one:last gift from him
1295 Words
The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and fading hope, it was Christmas Eve.
Machines hummed in slow, rhythmic beeps, like a metronome counting down something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Snow pressed gently against the window outside, soft and innocent, cruelly beautiful.
Rose sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her fingers wrapped tightly around Liam’s. He looked smaller than she remembered. Thinner. Pale. The boy who used to lift her off the ground at concerts now struggled to lift his own hand.
“You’re staring again,” Liam murmured, his voice fragile but teasing.
Rose forced a smile through trembling lips. “I’m making sure you’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t,” she whispered quickly, gripping him tighter. “Don’t say it like that.”
They had been together for six years. Six years of stolen kisses backstage. Six years of late-night songwriting sessions. Six years of believing they were invincible. And then came the diagnosis.
Three words that changed everything.
An aggressive rare heart condition.
“You remember the first time you sang for me?” Liam asked softly.
Rose swallowed. “Open mic night. You said I was off-key.”
“You were,” he smirked weakly. “But I still fell in love with you.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks despite her effort to be strong. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.
“You’re not leaving me,” she whispered. “You promised we’d get married. You promised front row seats on my world tour. You promised..."
“Rose..”
“No,” her voice cracked. “No. You don’t get to say goodbye. You don’t get to leave me. Forever is still the deal, right?
Her shoulders shook as she held him, as if she could anchor him to the earth with sheer willpower.
Liam slowly reached toward the bedside drawer. His movements were labored, each breath heavier than the last.
“I need you to have this,” he said.
He pulled out a small velvet box.
Ava stared at it, shaking her head. “Liam…”
“Open it.”
Inside was a silver pendant shaped like a music note. On the back, engraved in tiny letters:
Finish the song.
She broke.
“I can’t sing without you,” she sobbed.
“Yes, you can.” His thumb brushed away her tears. “Your voice was never mine, Rose. It belongs to the world.”
The machines began to beep faster.
“No,” she whispered again. “No, no, no........” she cried, screaming in her lungs, calling the doctor.
His grip loosened.
And just like that, the rhythm in the room went flat.
FIVE YEARS LATER
The stage lights had never turned on again.
Rose locked her guitar in its case the day after the funeral. She canceled her contract. Ignored calls from her label. Stopped answering messages from fans.
Every song reminded her of him. Every lyric felt unfinished without him and so, she quit.
Music had taken Liam from her. At least that’s what she told herself.
Until her best friend, Chloe, showed up unannounced one December morning.
“You’re coming with me,” Chloe declared, tossing a suitcase onto Rose's couch.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You haven’t been in the mood for five years,” Chloe shot back. “You lost someone. You didn’t lose yourself.”
Rose looked away.
“You need air,” Chloe continued, softer now. “You need snow. You need something that isn’t this apartment filled with ghosts and memories.”
“A part of me faded with him on that night. I don't do holidays.”
“You used to love Christmas.”
“That was before.”
Chloe walked over and squeezed her hand. “Then let this be the after.”
The first flake hit the windshield, delicate and cold. For a second, Chloe smiled as she continued driving, softly singing an old blues tune.
“Come on, Rose, sing along,” she said, tugging Rose with one hand while keeping the other steady on the steering wheel.
Rose forced a faint smile, her eyes fixed on the snowy world outside. One hand rested on the silver pendant around her neck. Her fingers traced its edges as her mind drifted to memories she tried so hard to bury.
By the time they’d navigated another mile up the winding mountain road, the light flakes had turned into a relentless white curtain, swallowing the rearview mirror whole.
“Oh my gosh,” Chloe muttered. “We need to pull over.”
She eased the car to the side of the road, squinting through the foggy glass. A small wooden sign appeared ahead:
Evergreen Inn – Vacancies
The letters were barely visible beneath a blanket of snow.
“I guess we don’t have much of a choice but to check it out,” Rose said, glancing at Chloe’s worried expression.
The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, and instantly warmth, along with the scent of cinnamon and pine—wrapped around them.
Rose brushed snow from her coat, and then she saw him.
A pair of narrowed, ice-blue eyes met hers from behind the reception desk.
He didn’t smile.
“You picked a bad night for a scenic drive,” he said, voice low and even.
Chloe gave a nervous laugh. “Trust me, this wasn’t part of the plan. Please tell me you have rooms.”
The man glanced toward the window where the storm thickened. “One.”
Rose blinked. “One?”
“One heated cottage left. The others are booked. It’s Christmas week.”
Chloe immediately turned to Rose. “We can share.”
He hesitated. “The cottage is separate from the main lodge. Small. Only one bed. The storm knocked out power in the west wing. If it gets worse, the path between buildings might ice over.”
Silence fell between the two women.
Another harsh gust slammed against the windows.
Chloe swallowed. “So… what are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he replied calmly, picking up a single brass key, “one of you can take the cottage. The other will have to stay in the main lodge lounge tonight. It’s warm, but not private.”
Rose immediately shook her head. “Chloe, you take it.”
“No,” Chloe said firmly. “You need this trip. I’m fine anywhere.”
“Chloe...”
“Rose,” she interrupted softly, squeezing her hand. “You haven’t really slept in five years.”
The words hit harder than the wind outside.
Rose looked down at her necklace.
Finish the song.
Another rumble of thunder rolled across the mountains.
A decision made itself.
“Fine,” Rose whispered. “But I’m checking on you first thing tomorrow.”
The man stepped away from the desk. “I’ll show you.”
The cold hit harder this time as they stepped back outside. Snow whipped across her face as she followed him down a narrow lantern-lit path.
Halfway there, she glanced back.
Through the blur of white, she could just make out Chloe standing in the doorway of the lodge.
Then the wind surged as the door shut. And just like that, Rose was alone.
The man stopped in front of a small wooden cottage tucked beneath heavy pine branches. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Firelights flickered inside.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said quietly.
Rose stepped over the threshold.
The storm roared behind her, as she closed the door.
And for the first time in years, the surrounding silence didn’t feel like grief.
It felt like something waiting.
- Writer
