Seven Days to Goodbye (Irene and Stellan) novel Chapter 4

Stellan stiffened, but for once, he didn’t snap at me for being ungrateful.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me and replied in a low voice, “I know.”

He leaned in, gritting his teeth as he whispered in my ear, “Sometimes, I hate you too.”

My eyes burned even more, but somehow I couldn’t help laughing.

Here we were, holding each other so tightly, hearts pressed together, whispering about how much we hated each other.

Behind us, I heard the click of a camera shutter.

I stepped out of Stellan’s embrace and saw the two girls approaching, smiling as they handed us a Polaroid.

“You two are so sweet together. You’re perfect for each other!”

Stellan took the photo, staring at our locked embrace in the image, unable to say a word.

I smiled and played along, “Yeah, we met here eight years ago. Now we’re back, reliving those beautiful memories…”

I spun our story into a fairy tale, painting our past as something magical.

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The girls were thrilled, saying Stellan and I made them believe in love again.

I laughed, too.

They invited us out for seafood boils.

As we turned to leave, I noticed Stellan’s eyes were strangely red.

He walked behind me, using his broad shoulders to shield me from the wind, and suddenly said, “I should get a pair of sunglasses too. The wind here is brutal.”

Dinner turned lively with the girls joining us.

I couldn’t eat much, so I kept the conversation going.

Watching their faces glow with youth, the pain in my body felt lighter for a while.

After dinner, it was time to go our separate ways.

They wanted to exchange contact info, but I gently joked, “If fate wants it, we’ll meet again.”

After all, there was no point in making new friends–I was about to die.

Besides, every new bond comes with the risk of tears.

Back in the car, Stellan, who had barely spoken, suddenly asked, “Weren’t you always the type to make friends on the road? Why didn’t you add them?”

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I answered casually, “Learned my lesson. I don’t give out my info so easily anymore.”

Stellan’s face darkened, and though he stayed quiet for a long time, he didn’t start a fight.

He looked at me with resignation and said, “Can’t we just have a normal conversation? You’re so warm and chatty with strangers, but with me it’s nothing but sarcasm and cold shoulders.”

I thought he was the unreasonable one.

Strangers are just strangers–they haven’t hurt me.

He’s the closest person in my life, yet he’s the one who left me battered and broken, drowning in pain.

I shot back, “When I tried to talk to you before, you always said I was making a scene.”

When he loved me, my outbursts were adorable and lively.

When he stopped loving me, my boldness and honesty became proof that I wasn’t mature enough.

I’d questioned myself, tried to reconnect, tried to go back to how things were.

But it was useless. When I tried to be myself, he’d criticize.

If I tried to be gentle, he’d say I was copying Valentina.

Once love fades, nothing I do is right anymore.

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Stellan stayed silent for a long time. Only when the scenery changed did he quietly say, “I won’t say that about you again.”

I didn’t respond.

He seemed to forget–we don’t have an “again.”

As dusk settled, we climbed Hatcher Pass.

Against the vivid sunset, prayer banners on the slope whipped and rattled in the wind.

I’d heard that natives generally believe that all living beings and natural elements, including mountains, caves, and rivers, possess souls or spirits.

Once, with my heart racing for Stellan alone, I stood by the mountain pass and made a wish to the distant lake.

“I want a love with Stellan that burns brighter than anything.”

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