The Last Light In My Life Died Out – A year after our breakup, I called Angelo for the first time. I only said two things. “Happy wedding.” And then: “You promised you’d carry my coffin when I die.” … “Your successful application for euthanasia—the notification came to me.” Angelo’s voice was ice over the phone. “Was there any point in making me look for you like this?” In the empty room, I pressed a hand to my nose. Blood welled between my fingers and dripped onto the screen, staining it crimson. Fingers trembling, I wiped the blood away. I stared at his name on the screen for a few seconds before I could speak, my voice gone hoarse. “I’m sorry.” A moment of silence on the other end. “We’ve been broken up for a year.” I paused, my vision blurring suddenly. He was reminding me. As if I could forget. A year ago, on that night of torrential rain, Angelo had said “break up” to me—cold, and without warning.
I stood outside his door and waited in the downpour all night. In the end, a neighbor told me that after saying those words, Angelo had left the country. He never gave me a reason. He never even said goodbye. If not for this call, he probably never would have contacted me again. Watching the cold rain outside the window, I felt thrown back to that day, my throat tight, speechless. After a long moment, I finally replied, “I know.” “So if you want to die, die somewhere far away. Don’t tell me.” Angelo said it coldly, then hung up without another word. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, each pulse hammering like a drumbeat against my heart. I crouched on the floor for a long time before I could get up and wash the blood from my face. As the cold water hit my skin, the phone rang again. This time, it was the Swiss Euthanasia Clinic. “Apologies. Since we couldn’t reach you at noon, we called your emergency contact.” “I’m fine,” I said, exhausted.
At noon, I’d been on the plane to Switzerland. “For the euthanasia procedure, we require documentation confirming your condition. You’ll also need to undergo a local examination here in Switzerland.” I looked at my pale face in the mirror, my voice weak. “Alright.” After hanging up, I hailed a cab to the hospital. The car drove through Swiss streets, the towering Alps faintly visible in the distance. This snow-white city—I’d told Angelo countless times, years ago, that I wanted to see it. I never imagined it would become the end of my life. The test results came quickly. Leukemia, bone metastasis. Treatment was meaningless. Under the doctors’ sympathetic gazes, I mechanically tucked the diagnosis into my bag. I was about to leave when my steps froze, my breath catching in my throat. I never thought I’d see Angelo again. There he stood, at the end of the corridor, still wearing the coat I’d bought him. A year apart, and he seemed even more composed. That handsome, aloof face. Those deep, indifferent eyes.
Every part of him had haunted my dreams this past year, memories that woke me in tears. My vision blurred instantly, the deliberately sealed fragments of memory flooding back like a tide. From the 1,530 paper stars Angelo folded for me, to the daily “good morning” and “good night” messages over seven years, to the time he drove four hundred kilometers through a snowstorm just because I said I missed him. I thought Angelo and I would love each other forever—until that day, the first and last time he left me with a cold, retreating back, never turning around no matter how I cried or begged. I thought if I just forced myself hard enough, one day I could forget all of it. But the moment I saw Angelo, the bitterness I’d suppressed came surging back, drowning my heart. I bit my lip. Switzerland really is a small place.
Angelo saw me too. After a slight pause, he frowned and walked over. My heart clenched. I was about to speak when I heard his cold voice. “I told you not to appear in front of me again.” His expression was icy, his cool features carrying a detached, ruthless chill. I slowly clenched my hands. “I’m just here for a check-up.” “A check-up?” Angelo didn’t believe a word. “Is this kind of lie fun? I made myself clear a year ago. I don’t love you anymore. Wasn’t the stalking enough back then? Chasing me all the way to Switzerland just makes me sick.” The color drained from my face. A year ago, I truly couldn’t accept Angelo’s sudden breakup. I tried every way to find him. But this time, it wasn’t like that. I looked at Angelo, my throat tight, but before I could speak, another voice cut in. “Angelo.” I froze, turning to see a woman walk over and link her arm through his. She glanced at me, then smiled at Angelo. “Angelo, who’s this?” She didn’t know me, but I knew her. She was Angelo’s girlfriend.
Or rather, his current girlfriend—Estella. Angelo’s lips parted. “Ex—” “Neighbors.” I cut him off, lowering my voice. “We’re just former neighbors.” Angelo paused, his gaze darkening, but he said nothing. Hearing this, Estella walked up to me with a smile and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Angelo’s fiancée.” She emphasized the word “fiancée.” I looked down and saw the ring on her finger. The pink diamond caught the light, refracting a glare that stabbed into my eyes. I asked without thinking, “You’re getting married?” Estella smiled sweetly. “Yes, Angelo proposed to me last month.” “Oh… congratulations.” I looked up at Angelo, forcing a light tone. “What’s the date?” Angelo looked at me for a moment before replying calmly. “July 1st.” I froze, feeling as if a knife had been plunged into my heart. The smile on my face shattered. July 1st. That was the day of my euthanasia.