Twenty-Six receipts of betrayal Novel novel Chapter 8

Elara waited for three hours. Nicholas never came back.

By early afternoon, a light drizzle had started. Her patience exhausted, she decided to wheel herself down from the cemetery.

The cemetery had an accessible path, but it was steep. She lost control, her wheelchair hit a railing and tipped over.

She tumbled all the way down, her hands and face scraped raw with wounds both large and small. Her forehead split open, blood seeping steadily from the gash before being washed away by the rain.

She lay there at the bottom, alone. No one around to notice. All she could do was stare up at the rain falling on her face.

The cold seeped into her bones. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. She bit down hard, trying not to scream from the pain radiating through

her limbs.

Time crawled by agonizingly slow.

She didn’t know how long she’d been lying there when–just as she thought she might freeze to death–Nicholas Sterling finally came running, umbrella in hand, panic written across his face.

He scooped her up, apologies pouring from his lips, his voice thick with remorse.

Elara stared at him, her eyes hollow and numb.

“If I still had my legs,” she whispered, “I could have left this place on my own today.”

The bright, vibrant Elara Kingston forever died when she was eighteen.

Nicholas’s chest tightened. Shame crashed over him like a wave. He couldn’t even look at her.

He slapped himself hard across the face.

“I’m so sorry, Elara. I swear to God, this is the last time. I’ll never let this happen again.”

Over the next few days, the guilt ate at Nicholas again. He hovered constantly–bringing her wather, adjusting her blankets, responding to every

offhand comment she made.

It was almost like old times. Like seven years ago, before the accident.

But Elara knew better.

Life doesn’t offer second chances.

And this version of Nicholas–attentive, caring–was just temporary. A performance born of guilt.

So she simply watched in silence, keeping count, waiting for the final day to arrive.

On Christmas Eve, their plane touched down in Zurich.

They’d barely checked into the hotel when Nicholas’s phone rang.

He talked for half an hour. When he came back into the room, he was already grabbing his suitcase.

“Something came up at work. I gotta head back.”

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Twenty–Six Receipts of Betrayal: My Silence Was the Countdown to His Eternal Regret

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Chapter 8

Watching him rush toward the door, Elara asked softly. “Do you really have to go?”

Nicholas didn’t hesitate, his voice firm. “Yeah. It’s urgent. You go see the snow tomorrow, okay? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

Elara didn’t try to stop him.

She didn’t tell him that by tomorrow, there’d be no one left to pick up..

She sat by the floor–to–ceiling window all night, waiting for the first snow the forecast had promised.

It never came.

At dawn, she received a message from Valentina–a photo taken at a hospital.

Nicholas sat in a chair beside the bed, peeling an orange for her, smiling softly.

Elara stared at the photo for a long time.

When the sun finally rose, she wheeled herself out of the hotel and headed to the assisted dying facility.

Before going inside, she looked up at the sky one last time.

Still no snow.

So it’s not just Nicholas. Even the weather lied to her.

On the last day of her life, she still didn’t get to see the first snow.

A faint smile tugged at Elara’s lips. Then she turned and slowly wheeled herself toward her chosen end.

The staff wheeled her into a quiet room and helped her onto the bed.

They asked her the standard questions.

“Miss Kingston, is there anyone you’d like to see?”

“No.”

“Do you have any final words you’d like us to pass along?”

“No.”

“Any last wishes?”

“No.”

She answered every question calmly. For Nicholas Sterling, she had nothing left to say.

As the staff member prepared the medication, she spoke softly. “After I die, please have me cremated immediately. Don’t bury my ashes. When the first snow falls, scatter them somewhere. Anywhere. Thank you.”

The staff nodded.

The room went silent.

A small prick in her arm. Then nothing.

Chapter 8

Elara’s mind began to blur.

Images flickered through her mind–a boy running, childhood games, scorching afternoon sunlight, the rowdy chatter of a classroom…

Slowly, the sounds and shapes dissolved into fog. Soft. Weightless.

She let herself sink into it.

Then, gently, she closed her eyes.

And there was nothing more.

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