Chapter 1 A Lie Wrapped in Devotion
I had taken on sponsoring that handsome blind man, Damian Crawford, thinking it was nothing more than a small distraction to fill the last quiet days of my life.
Yet what blindsided me completely was discovering I had become pregnant with his child.
What stunned me even more was my own willingness to abandon chemotherapy altogether, draining every ounce of my remaining strength through endless work shifts, all so I could leave him and our baby a little more secure.
With the due date drawing closer and my savings inching upward one hard-earned dollar at a time, I waited for death while quietly signing the cornea donation papers, my only comfort the thought that he might finally see the world again.
Until the moment I stood in hospital director Caitlin Crawford's office and saw the photograph of Damian riding the waves with pure, unrestrained joy.
Caitlin shook her head with an easy laugh. "That's my son. He's been playing some silly role-playing game with his friends lately, pretending to be poor and blind. He keeps complaining to me about that clingy playmate of his, how she's old, stingy, and impossible to get rid of. It's even delaying his engagement."
I lowered my eyes to my swollen belly, and in that instant, the entire world turned hollow and meaningless.
So I made a decision that felt strangely satisfying.
"Caitlin, please schedule the induction procedure for me. I would like to participate in the new drug trial. But I have one condition. I want to play the role-playing game too."
Only after I stepped out of the hospital did I receive Damian's voice message. "Hey, babe, I'm working overtime at the massage parlor tonight. I'll pick up an extra twenty bucks and get you that necklace."
In the past, I would have answered instantly with a voice note overflowing with praise and affection. Now my throat felt scorched dry, and no words would come.
From that single photograph, I already knew: the couple's necklace he wore with another girl was a custom piece worth a small fortune.
The bitterness in my mouth sank straight into my heart like poison.
Another soft ding. A new voice message from Damian. "Why aren't you answering? Don't you want it?"
My fingers trembled so badly that I hit the wrong key by accident.
Damian replied at once.
Damian: Why just a period?
I stared at the screen and suddenly laughed through hot tears.
He could see. He had always been able to see.
Heavy snow lashed my face as I ran frantically up and down the street, searching everywhere like a madwoman.
At last, inside a private lounge, I found him surrounded by a laughing crowd.
Laughter spilled from the room. "Damian, when are you finally going to drop the act?"
He tilted his head back and downed half a glass of liquor in one smooth motion.
For the first time, I saw his eyes clearly. Cold, sharp, and devastatingly beautiful, just as they had been in every dream I had ever had of him.
He had once sighed that regaining his sight would require a corneal donor and a million dollars for surgery.
I had thought about it seriously. After I died, I would give him my own corneas.
I had even arranged to sell every usable part of my body, certain I could gather that million somehow.
Helping him see the world again had become the final, burning purpose of my fading life.
"So, Damian," I whispered to the empty air, "how are you ever going to repay me for three years of my wholehearted love?"
At the table, his answer floated out lightly. "I can come clean anytime I want. I'm already bored with it. She's the one who refuses to let go."
The girl from the photograph, Flora Morley, threw herself into his arms, kissed his cheek with a playful giggle, and reached for the velvet box in his pocket.
He caught her hand. "That's the cheap fake. The real one for you is being delivered straight from the boutique."
The whole room exploded with laughter.
"Cheap women only deserve cheap stuff, right?"
Flora pouted cutely. "Damian, on our engagement day, can we invite that old woman to watch? It'll be fun."
Damian simply took two slow drags on his cigarette and stayed unusually quiet.
Someone teased, "Damian, you haven't actually fallen for her, have you?"
"That woman is ridiculously devoted. She even gave her mom's entire inheritance to Damian so he could open that... massage parlor of his!"
Amid their roaring laughter, my heart plunged into a bottomless abyss.
Right before my mother passed, she had gently urged me: because Damian had lost both parents and owned nothing, she feared I would suffer, so she wanted to leave the money to him.
"My daughter is getting married. Consider this money your wedding gift from me."
That day, Damian had stared at the massage parlor we prepared for him as a way to earn a living, turned his face away, and his hands had trembled.
