Until The Last Day (Claire and Lorenzo) novel Chapter 3

Claire’s POV

Lorenzo didn’t come home for the next few days. He texted once, saying he had to travel for work.

Meanwhile, Aria’s messages kept coming.

Photos of them at restaurants, holding hands in theaters, walking by lakes.She captioned them with tiny hearts, as if mocking me quietly.

I never replied. I only printed them, one by one, and slid them into the same drawer.

With Lorenzo gone, I carried out my bucket list alone.

When I reached item ten,See a flower bloom, I decided to visit the rose park.

The park was famous for its roses. Pink, white, red; they grew in long rows like waves of color.The park was quiet. I wheeled myself slowly along the path.

A few street performers played music under the shade of tall trees, their soft tunes floating through the air.

I wheeled myself down the path, stopping near a fountain where petals drifted on the water.

I glanced toward the sound and saw Lorenzo and Aria not far away.

Sitting together on a bench not far away, sharing snacks and laughing.She picked up a piece of fruit and held it to his lips.He leaned forward and ate it without hesitation, his smile easy, familiar.

Watching the ease in his smile, I froze. I hadn’t expected to see them here.

I watched quietly a while longer, then Lorenzo stood up and walked toward the small crowd gathered around a musician, and asked to borrow his guitar.

The performer grinned and handed it over.Lorenzo sat on a stool and said loudly, “This is for Aria, the girl I love.”

The crowd cheered. Aria covered her face, pretending to be shy.

And then he began to play.

The melody hit me before the words did. It wasoursong. The one he wrote for me when we were sixteen.

He’d sung it for me at our school festival, under yellow lights, while the entire auditorium screamed and clapped.He’d recorded it so I could listen whenever I missed him.

That night, I’d believed love could last forever.

Now, that same song was a blade.

He sang it to her with the same tenderness he once gave to me. The same little tilt of his head, the same half-smile before the final line.

The crowd melted around them.People clapped.Girls whispered, “That’s so romantic.”

I stared at it for a long moment. It hurt, but my lips curved into a small smile. He hadn’t kept his promise but at least I could let it go for him.

After leaving the school, I went to the city registry office.The clerk, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, looked puzzled when I told her I wanted to cancel my registration.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. “We can only do that for the deceased.”

I handed her the folder I had prepared, the euthanasia approval papers, my medical records, and my signed statement.

“All my family members are gone. I’ll be getting a divorce soon. There will be no one to handle this after I’m gone, so I’d rather take care of it myself now” I explained quietly.

She hesitated, then excused herself to speak with her superior.When she returned, her expression had softened.

“We can make an exception,” she said. “As long as the hospital sends confirmation afterward.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

As I rolled outside and reached for my phone to call a cab, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Claire, what are you doing here?”

Lorenzo stood by his car, eyes wide, confusion and alarm written all over his face.