YURI

CHAPTER TWENTY

After waking up and showering, I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to sneak out of the house without even touching breakfast. It was better this way, I told myself. If I didn’t see him, I wouldn’t have to relive last night’s disaster in my head while pretending I was fine.

I grabbed my bag, tiptoed past mom’s room, and slipped out the front door like a thief in broad daylight. The cool morning air kissed my skin, but it didn’t do much to quiet the mess in my chest.

I told myself I wanted him gone—gone from the house, gone from my thoughts, gone from this pull that made no sense—but the second those words formed in my mind, an ache shot through me. A hollow kind of sadness.

The truth was, the idea of him leaving left me feeling like someone had pressed pause on something I wasn’t ready for.

At the entrance of my lecture hall, I was greeted by Margo’s wide grin and Kris’s signature wave. We exchanged quick hugs before making our way inside, sliding into our usual row near the middle. The air was thick with that Monday morning energy—half the class scrolling through their phones, the other half pretending to read their notes while actually zoning out.

We waited for the professor to stroll in, and when he finally did, the next hour was spent half-listening, half-doodling in my notebook while my mind kept drifting back to *him*.

After class, the three of us decided to grab coffee at our favorite spot—a cozy little café tucked away from the main street. We claimed the farthest corner table, the one where you could talk about anything without worrying about prying ears.

Once our orders were in, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned forward, eyes darting between them.

“Okay,” I started, lowering my voice dramatically, “you guys will not believe what happened this weekend.”

Margo’s eyes lit up instantly. “Does this have anything to do with a certain tall, dark, and infuriatingly handsome man I’ve seen lurking around your place?”

Kris smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Killian, right? Haven’t officially met him, but… yeah, I’ve seen him. He’s hot.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at my lips. “*He is.*” I admitted, the words slipping out softer than I intended—like a confession.

“Oh my *God*,” Margo practically yelled, smacking the table so hard our coffee cups rattled. “You dirty little w***e…”

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed, leaning forward so fast my hair fell into my face. I quickly tucked it behind my ear, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

Kris was just sitting there with that slow, knowing grin, sipping her latte like she had all the time in the world. “From one to ten,” she asked casually, “how good of a kisser is he?”

I sighed, cheeks burning. “A ten,” I admitted without hesitation. “Guys… he rejected me. And I didn’t know what to do, so I just… ran. Like literally ran. This morning I even *sneaked out* of my own goddamn house just to avoid him.”

Kris raised her brow. “Well… he’s leaving today, right?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “He is. And I pray I never see him again.”

“That’s not possible,” Margo snorted, taking a dramatic sip of her cappuccino. “You’re his *aunt*, remember?”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh please… don’t remind me.”

My phone lit up on the table, the screen flashing *Kirby*.

“Hi, Kirby,” I answered, still half-laughing from Margo’s last comment.

Her voice came through shaky, almost breaking. “Yuri… where are you?”

A chill ran down my spine. “I’m at the college café. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause—too long—and then she whispered, “It’s Mom. We’re at the hospital… the doctors… they don’t think she’ll make it.” Her voice cracked, and I could hear her sniff back a sob. “It… it’s time to say goodbye.”

The café suddenly felt too loud, every clink of a spoon and hiss of the coffee machine pounding in my ears. My chest tightened so hard it hurt, my breath catching in my throat.

“I’m coming,” I said, already grabbing my bag and shoving my chair back. My hands were trembling so badly I almost dropped the phone. Margo and Kris were staring at me wide-eyed, but I couldn’t even form the words to explain.

All I could think was *not Mom… not yet*.

Margo didn’t even wait for me to argue—she snatched my keys from my hand and said firmly, “You’re not driving. Not like this.”

I didn’t have the strength to protest. The whole ride to the hospital was a blur of traffic lights and the low hum of the car engine. My knee bounced the entire time, my hands twisting in my lap, my mind replaying every moment I’d had with Mom, every laugh, every fight, every “I love you.”

We screeched into the parking lot, Margo barely putting the car in park before I flung the door open and ran inside.

The sight that greeted me in the waiting room almost broke me. The whole family was there—faces pale, eyes swollen from crying. Kirby sat in one of the plastic chairs, shoulders hunched, her hands gripping a crumpled tissue.

The second she saw me, she stood up, her tears spilling freely as she stumbled into my arms. I wrapped her tightly, pressing my chin into her hair as she sobbed into my chest.

I didn’t say a word—I couldn’t. My throat was raw, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. We just stood there, holding on to each other like if we let go, we’d both shatter.

The doctor finally approached, his expression heavy. “You can go in now,” he said softly.

I wiped at my eyes, but the tears kept coming as we followed him down the sterile hallway toward Mom’s room.

I froze at the doorway of her room, my hand gripping the cold metal handle.

One step, and I’d see her. One step, and the truth I’d been avoiding would crash into me like a tidal wave.

I couldn’t do it.

If I saw her lying there—silent, frail, hooked up to machines—then it wouldn’t just be something the doctor said. It would be *real*. And I wasn’t ready for real. I wasn’t ready for goodbye.