Until The Last Day Novel

Chapter 20 1288 Vouchers Chapter 20 Lorenzo's POV Mom had been looking for a place to mourn Claire. Even though there were no ashes, she said Claire still needed rest. She went alone to a sunny slope of a cemetery and bought a plot she could afford. She told me she would place the bracelet Claire gave her on our wedding day inside the tomb and have a small tiara carved on the stone, "because our girl deserved to be crowned." That afternoon she came to my apartment for one thing: the portrait. She wanted to make a copy for the headstone. She kept her coat on when she came in.

Her face was calm in the way that scared me most. "Ma..." I started. She walked past me as if I were a coat rack. The place was worse than before-bottles, mail, a blanket crumpled on the floor. She didn't tidy anything. She went straight down the hall. "The photo's in the bedroom," I said, voice thin. "I put it-" She opened drawers without replying. Then the closet. Then the bedside table. Nothing. "It's not here," she said flatly, and left the room. I followed her in silence as she crossed to the study. Dust floated in the 11.54 Chapter 20 288 Vouchers late light.

The chair still faced the desk where Claire used to sit and make lists, pay bills, write notes to herself in a neat, careful hand. Mom pulled open a drawer beside the printer. We both froze. Inside was a thick stack of paper, squared and straight. On top lay a single sheet titled in bold, block letters: DEATH COUNTDOWN For a second I forgot how to breathe. Mom did not touch it. "What is that?" she asked, though she knew. I reached in with hands I could not steady and lifted the top page. The title shook in my grip. I remembered the day after I booked the tickets to Switzerland.

Claire had been at this desk, writing slowly, then crossing out, then writing again. When I asked what she was doing, she smiled and said, "A list. Just a list." Later that same day, we were in the kitchen and I was talking too fast about routes and hotels and wheelchair access, trying to sound excited, trying to sound like a husband. She looked at me a long time. "It's been a long time since I've seen you smile like that," she said softly. The words went into me like a needle then and a spear now. Back then I didn't answer. I was afraid she could see through me.

21.96% 11 54 Chapter 20 288 Vouchers Now I understood it had not been an accusation. It had been a small fact said with a sad kind of kindness. She had seen the rot under our good wallpaper. She had seen my forced grin, the way my face smiled but my eyes did not. I had told myself I was the only one carrying secret pain. I thought she didn't know how badly I was breaking. The truth was the opposite. Claire knew everything, my numbness, my hollow, the lies I told myself to survive. She pretended not to know so I wouldn't have to carry her knowing, too.

She chose to be the invisible one and waited, quiet as snowfall, for me to come back home. I closed my eyes. "Ma... I'm sorry," I said, but it was to Claire, not to my mother. "Read it," Mom said, voice low. "If you can't, I will." "I will." The word scraped my throat. Tears blurred the title. I blinked hard. The page steadied. Each line was numbered in Claire's neat handwriting. My stomach turned. I put the page back on the stack and ran both hands over my face.

Something in me was afraid that if I read even one line, I would meet the person I had refused to see for months: my wife as she really was. I felt Mom watching me, but she didn't speak again. Guilt rushed up hot and sudden. I set the stack down too fast. The top sheet slid, the whole pile shifted, and paper spilled over the drawer's lip like a white waterfall. Chapter 20 288 Vouchers "I've got it," I said, kneeling. My knees hit the floor. Pain bit bone. The room swayed and then steadied. My hands shook as I gathered the sheets, one by one. My fingers left damp marks on the margins.

I cried without sound. I don't know how long I stayed like that-on the carpet, hands full of Claire's handwriting, shoulders shaking, breath coming out in torn pieces. Time frayed and went loose. The day shrank to two things: paper and pain. At some point Mom left the doorway. At some point the light changed. At some point the radiator clicked and clicked and clicked. When I finally stopped, my face throbbed from salt and my throat burned. The stack sat crooked in my lap. I wiped my eyes with the back of my wrist and tried to stand, but my legs refused. "Sit," Mom said quietly from the hall.

"Just... sit." I nodded and didn't move. I looked down at the top page again. The letters were so ordinary. I could hear Claire's voice in them, the way she would read a shopping list or a recipe. Calm. Patient. Determined. My hands trembled as I lifted the first sheet cleanly, separating it from the rest. I wanted to be strong enough to hold it. To deserve the truth it carried. To carry it where she could not anymore. The paper shook anyway. 11 54 Chapter 20 I lowered my eyes and began to read the first page. What I saw there made my heart stop.

4 288 Mouchers 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.