Until The Last Day Novel – Chapter 1 Claire’s POV After my application for euthanasia was approved, I set a death countdown for my husband and his mistress. My husband Lorenzo was my light, my reason to live. Even though I was paralyzed while saving him, I never regretted, even after I found his cheating diary. In which he said he only married me out of duty and guilt. He claimed to be suffocating, that every minute was torture and he wished he was the one who got paralysed instead, at least the physical pain was nothing compared to his mental guilt. He admitted that he’d fallen for another girl, “She was vibrant, bright, and lively,” he wrote, “just like Claire had been before the crash.” “Claire had been before the crash”, I repeated this sentence quietly. The sound of the door opening brought me back. “Happy birthday!” Lorenzo’s voice filled the room. He was holding a paper bag and smiling brightly, his tie loosened, his hair slightly messy. I smiled softly. “My birthday was yesterday.” He froze.
The smile that had been on his face died down as panic scattered across his embarrassed expression. “Oh, damn it, Claire, I’m so sorry. Work’s been crazy lately.” He dropped the bag on the table and knelt in front of me, his hands gently pressing on my legs. “How are you feeling today?” he changed the topic, rubbing my knees like they could still feel warmth. “Any better?” I looked down on his hands, he pressed too hard, his slender hands turning red. But my legs can’t feel anything at all. I didn’t respond. He looked distracted, his eyes wandering to the side. And then his phone rang. The moment he saw the name, a smile spread across his face.“Sorry, I need to take this,” he said quickly. “Work.” He turned away, walking out into the hall, his voice dropping low and tender. I watched him leave silently, knowing clearly that he was lying. It must have been about the girl he loved. Since truly loved each other before, I’d seen that genuine, irrepressible smile many times. Before the car accident, we were a perfectly matched couple. Every morning, he’d wait for me at the school gate, coffee in hand. “Harvard, here we come,” he’d say, and I’d laugh, believing him. We studied side by side, pushed each other harder, and when the results came, we both made it—near-perfect SAT scores, two scholarships, and a love story everyone envied.
Everything should have ended beautifully. But life isn’t a fairy tale. The day before our resumption, we were in a car accident and I subconsciously pushed Lorenzo out of the way. Thus, I took the hit and was paralysed from the waist down. In that same year, my parents died in a plane crash and all those multiple blows at once resulted in me wanting to end my life. But Lorenzo stayed. He was my light, my reason. He fed me, lifted me, read to me. He swore he’d never leave, that he’d take care of me forever. When he proposed after graduation, I cried so hard I could barely say yes. For three years, he kept his promise. Until I found his diary. It was in the bottom drawer of his desk, tucked under old papers.The man who declared his love every day had been pouring out his pain in that diary. “I only married her out of duty and guilt,” he had written. He had feared what the public would say if he abandoned me. He claimed to be suffocating, that every minute was torture and he wished he was the one who got paralysed instead, at least the physical pain was nothing compared to his mental guilt.
I read those words over and over until they blurred. And even though I didn’t want to believe his affair was real, Aria made sure I learned the truth the hard way. She sent me message the next day I found out the diary. “Hasn’t he suffered enough? Haven’t you taken enough from him? What more do you want?” She had written. “Lorenzo is suffering everyday because of you. He is in pain and all he wanted was to die. But since I came into his life, he’s found happiness once again. He loves me now and you’re the only thing in the way. You are selfish and heartless. If you truly loved him, then you would have set him free a long time ago. You can still set things right by making Lorenzo and I one.” Right after I had read the message, she sent dozens of intimate pictures of her and Lorenzo, taken from the many secret dates they went to behind my back. Lorenzo pouring her coffee.Lorenzo peeling shrimp for her, even though he never liked touching seafood for me.Lorenzo holding her hand on the beach, smiling like a boy again. Every photo stabbed deeper. My chest tightened until breathing hurt.
But my eyes had run dry of tears, a hollow emptiness staring back from them. Aria kept sending photos every day.Pottery classes. Park walks. Concerts.All on nights Lorenzo told me he was “working late.” Even last night—my birthday. I sat by the window with a small cake and waited until midnight. He texted:Sorry, meeting ran long. But in Aria’s photo, fireworks lit up his face. And, he looked happy. Happier than I’d seen him in years. Looking at those photos, I smiled bitterly until tears spilled out. The Lorenzo who once loved me at seventeen no longer loved me at twenty five. That night, I sat by the window all night. The following day, I submitted all the necessary documents to an overseas euthanasia organization, resolved to end my life.Just two weeks from now and it will all be over. Since Lorenzo who was the only one I had left, had decided to run from me, then there was no point holding on to what was already out of my reach. I will let go of him and set myself free too. Chapter 2 Claire’s POV I sat alone in the living room for a long time after dinner.
When the house finally went still, I pushed my wheelchair toward the study and knocked gently. The door opened a crack. Lorenzo hurriedly ended his call and came out. “I forgot your birthday,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To make up for it, and since our third anniversary’s coming up, how about a trip? Anywhere you want.” I looked up at him. “Switzerland,” I whispered. “I want to see the first snow.” His eyebrows lifted. “Switzerland?” He laughed softly, trying to sound light. “That’s a long flight, Claire. It might be too hard on you, and we’ll get snow here next month.” I shook my head. It was rare for me to turn him down. I only had fifteen days left. I wouldn’t live to see next month’s snow. He frowned, confused. Then he nodded slowly. “Alright. I will plan a trip to Switzerland.” He turned toward his desk, already pulling out his phone to make the arrangements. I knew he’d agree. I’d read in his diary that every time he came home after seeing Aria, his guilt grew stronger. He always tried to make it up to me. I set a timer on my phone. A black background, white letters:DEATH COUNTDOWN – 15 DAYS When Lorenzo came back to tell me the tickets were booked, his tone was gentle, doting. “I booked the flights. We’re going to Switzerland for Christmas.” As he spoke, his eyes flickered toward my phone screen.
Once, no matter what I was doing, he’d come over and pester me with questions, just to get my attention.Now, he had even glanced over at it, but he didn’t notice. he just smiled faintly and said, “You should rest.” He didn’t care anymore. Relieved that I didn’t press for conversation, he walked away toward the bathroom.The sound of running water filled the silence. Maybe it was better this way.We both were tired of each other, he of pretending, and I of living under a false ignorance.In fifteen days, all of it would end. The next morning, I woke up early and opened my notebook.I drew a small heart at the top of the page and titled it:My Wish List. I began writing: See my friends Feed the swans Have a drink Watch a sunset by the lake The list was small, but I wrote each word carefully, focusing on the events I wanted to relive or experience in my last days. Halfway through, I heard a voice behind me. “What are you writing?” Lorenzo’s tone was soft, curious. “My wish list,” I said without turning around. He chuckled lightly. “You used to do that when you were seventeen….” Then he stopped, almost instantly.
He knew that bringing up the past was like reopening an emotional wound for me. I turned slightly in my chair. “It’s okay,” I said. “I remember that list too.” His shoulders relaxed. “You do?” “Yes. You helped me finish it, remember?” I smiled faintly. “Every little thing on it.” He smiled, genuine for once. “Of course I remember. You wanted to take photos under the cherry blossoms, skip class to watch the sunrise, sing in the rain… Because I loved you so much. No matter what you did, I wanted to be right there with you. Having you by my side made me fearless. I even jumped off a cliff hundreds of meters high without hesitation.” He was right. It was the time when he really was in love with me. He wanted to be with me no matter what I was doing.I watched his animated expression quietly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that,” When his eyes finally drifted back to me,I said softly. His smile froze.The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by awkwardness.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll help you complete this new list too.” I shook my head. “No need. You have work.” He looked surprised. “Claire, I—” And then his phone rang. The name flashing on the screen was hidden from me, but the way his lips curved said enough. He turned away. “Sorry, it’s work,” he murmured, already smiling. Then he walked out. I sat there for a long time, staring at the open page. There was a time he’d never take no for an answer.He’d insist on being part of everything I did, whether it was silly, reckless, or impossible.He used to say, “If you fall, I’ll fall with you.” Now, he didn’t even try to convince me. He didn’t bother with empty words like “I’ll be worried about you”. I laughed quietly. Our love had never truly been tested; it had just withered quietly, piece by piece. At the top of the page, I added two new words:Bucket List. Right as I finished, my phone buzzed. A new message from Aria. A photo of her sitting in the passenger seat of Lorenzo’s car. Her hair was tied up, sunlight spilling across her face. Once, I would’ve felt the pain twist deep in my chest.
Now, I felt nothing. I printed the photo, as I had done with all the others, and slipped it into the drawer with my bucket list. The drawer was already full of similar provocations she’d been collecting for days. For me, death is release. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let them have their happy ending. Lorenzo should’ve told me the truth instead of betraying me.And Aria—She shouldn’t have mocked the woman she’d already stolen from. She’s not the sweet, innocent girl Lorenzo described in his diary.She’s cruel. Manipulative. I would be happy to let Lorenzo see her true colors.