Until The Last Day Novel

Chapter 14 11 288 Vouchers Chapter 14 Lorenzo's POV The first snow in Switzerland didn't arrive until early January. That was when I came. It was my third time in this country. It would also be my last. Once Claire's ashes are taken care of, I would leave and never come back. I stood outside the airport a long time, watching the snow drift down in slow, thin threads. My breath smoked in the cold, my fingers numb inside my gloves. Taxis slid up in a crooked line, headlights cutting through the white. I finally raised my hand. The driver rolled down the window and asked for an address.

I gave him the name of the facility. He blinked, surprised. "That place?". His accent was thick but his meaning was clear. "You're very young. Why would you..." He trailed off, then tried again, softer. "Life is long. There are many ways. Don't decide so fast." He meant well. But the words scraped through me. I couldn't tell him I wasn't here to die. I couldn't say anything without my voice breaking. So I pretended I didn't understand. He sighed, nodded, and pulled into traffic. 11.51 Chapter 14 288 Wouchers Snow feathered across the windshield. The city slid by in quiet, gray sheets.

My stomach rolled with every turn. The closer we got, the heavier everything felt. When we stopped, I paid and stepped out. The cold bit through my coat. The building was white and clean, edges soft under the snow. The glass doors opened with a sound like a sigh. Inside, the lobby was warm and still. There were plants in tall pots, a small desk, a bowl of wrapped mints. It looked like a clinic and a hotel at once. A receptionist came forward. "Bonjour. Do you have an appointment?" The air tilted. For a moment, the floor seemed to shift under me. I grabbed the edge of the desk.

The room blurred. "Sir?" she asked quickly, reaching out. "Are you alright? Do you need to sit?" I was gasping before I noticed it, my chest tight and stubborn. I fumbled in my pocket and found the hard candy the flight attendant had pressed into my palm when I almost fainted earlier. I unwrapped it with shaking fingers and pushed it onto my tongue. It tasted like lemon and metal. Even sweetness had become bitter to me. After a moment, I steadied. "I'm here to ask about my wife," I managed, my voice rough. "Claire." I took out a photo and slid it across the desk.

"Claire Moretti." The receptionist studied it, eyebrows knitting. She looked again, then glanced toward the screen. Her eyes softened with recognition. "Yes," she said slowly. "She came on Christmas Day. Alone." 18.08% 1151 Chapter 14 1228 Vouchers The word alone cut deeper than I expected. The receptionist hesitated, then added, "On her application she indicated 'single." "" I swallowed. My throat burned. I took out our marriage certificate, creases worn white from my hands, and gave it to her. She checked the names, the dates, the seal, then nodded. "Understood," she said gently.

"Could you wait a moment while I verify your identity?" I signed where she pointed. She made a call in low, careful French, then returned the papers. "Mr. Moretti," she said, "please come with me.' I was weak enough that I didn't argue when she reached for my elbow. We entered a narrow elevator. The hum of the cables filled the silence as we rose. "Christmas Day," she said quietly, as if testing the shape of the words. "She was very calm. Most people... are not." I stared at the numbers above the door. 10. 11. 12. Then she asked the question I dreaded.

"Since she came alone and passed away the same day... why were you not with her? You are her husband." The elevator felt smaller. Airless. I didn't know if I should say I knew nothing. I didn't know if I should tell a stranger that I had been peeling oranges in another woman's 43.01% 11 51 Chapter 14 288 Vouchers hospital room while my wife walked into death alone. Any answer felt like a confession I couldn't survive. In the end, I chose silence. She seemed to understand. She said nothing more. The doors opened on the sixteenth floor.

The hallway was bright and quiet, the kind of quiet that hums in the bones. She guided me to a small seating area which had a white sofa, low table, and a window with snow gathering in the corners. "Please wait," she said. "I will bring the records." She disappeared through a door marked Archives. I sat. My legs pulsed with a dull ache, as if I'd been walking for days. The snow outside thickened, soft flakes spinning under a pale sky. A distant bell chimed the hour. Somewhere down the corridor, a soft cart wheel squeaked, then faded. I leaned back and raised my head, too tired to hold it up.

The ceiling lights hummed. The fabric of the sofa scratched my wrist. Every detail felt magnified, like grief had sharpened all edges. allun I didn't know what I believed about the soul. Priests and poets talked about it like a leaf or a bird, lifting up, slipping free. Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn't. I didn't know what Claire would think, looking at me now, if she could look. Would she laugh at me for coming so late? Would she give me that familiar, quiet smile and say nothing? Would she turn away? Mockery. A cold, small smile. Silence. Reluctance to let go. Maybe some of each.

Maybe all. We had never divorced. We had been 7 Chapter 14 288 Vouchers married when she died, bound on paper even as everything between us unwound. I closed my eyes against the sting. The receptionist would return with dates and signatures. With numbers that lined up. With proof that time had moved forward without me. I was what remained, sitting in a chair halfway up a building in a country I promised never to visit again. Snow fell against the glass. My breath fogged then disappeared. I was her last connection left in this world. Through her death, Claire turned me into a widower.

A word that felt like a door closing in a long, empty hall, reminding me that she was no longer here, and that I was the one still left to know it. 1151 Cedella Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella's storytelling style is immersive and addictive-perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.