Too Late for Your Regrets

The day the doctor told me I was going to die because I couldn't afford any more treatments was the exact same day Ethan returned to the city. He was now a massively successful billionaire, and he had finally brought his fiancée back to meet his parents. When he saw me at the hospital, leaning on a crutch and gasping for air after every few steps, a cold sneer played on his lips. "When you dumped me for five hundred thousand dollars back then, did you ever think karma would catch up to you like this?" I looked at the mockery in his eyes and forced a faint smile. "If I apologize and repent right now, would you give me another five hundred thousand?" His face instantly darkened, and the look in his eyes became unreadably stormy. Before he walked away, he left me with a cold sentence: "I'm getting married next month." I nodded. "Congratulations. But I won't be attending." After all, I probably wouldn't even survive until next month. Not even ten minutes after Ethan left, my bank account received an anonymous wire transfer of five hundred thousand dollars. The sender was anonymous, but I knew exactly who it was. I stared at the long string of numbers for a very long time, my heart a tangled mess of conflicting emotions. In the end, I used the money to pay my hospital bills, temporarily keeping my broken, decaying body alive. Once the paperwork was done, I dragged my exhausted body back to my apartment. Calling it a "home" was a stretch. It was just a tiny, rented studio. It was small, damp, and had a single north-facing window that never saw a speck of sunlight. Just like my life. Ever since I made that decision five years ago, my world had been completely devoid of light. I had just managed to drag myself onto the squeaky, worn-out sofa when there was a knock at the door. The knocks were soft, hesitant. I sighed. I could already guess who it was. Struggling to stand up, I grabbed my crutch and opened the door. Ethan’s mother, Helena, was standing outside. She was holding a fruit basket, a strained smile plastered on her face. "Chloe, I came to see how you were doing." As she spoke, her eyes couldn't help but sweep over my shabby apartment and the crutch in my hand. A flicker of complicated emotion crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, detached calmness. I stepped aside to let her in. "Mrs. Vance, what are you doing here?" She walked in, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, unable to find a decent place to sit. Finally, at my gesture, she sat down on the only wooden chair in the room. She kept her back perfectly straight, as if trying to distance herself from the poverty of my surroundings. "Chloe, I know I shouldn't be bothering you." She took a deep breath, her hands nervously clasping together. "But I really had no other choice today..." I looked at her quietly, waiting for the lines I already knew were coming. Five years ago, she did the exact same thing. Right after I got my cancer diagnosis, when my entire world was collapsing, she burst into my hospital room. Back then, the Vance family was on the brink of bankruptcy due to a massive investment failure. The only thing that could save them was an injection of capital from the Lockharts, another corporate giant. The only condition was for Ethan to marry their only daughter, Vivian Lockhart. Ethan was fighting tooth and nail with his family for me. That was when Helena literally got down on her knees in front of me. "Chloe, I beg you, let Ethan go! This is our family's last chance. He can't just think about himself!" "I know you two love each other, but you're just an orphan. And besides, with your health right now..." She stared at the medical report in my hand. She didn't finish her sentence, but her point was crystal clear. "Please, just leave Ethan! How much do you need for your treatment? Five hundred thousand? A million? I’ll give it to you!" "Just take the money, make up a reason to break up with him, make him hate you, and let him go abroad to save our family, okay?" At that time, freshly diagnosed with cancer, my mind was a complete blank. The overwhelming fear and my agonizing love for Ethan were tearing me apart. But looking at his mother, sobbing and practically begging on her knees... Knowing Ethan might lose everything and ruin his entire family because of me... my heart bled. I didn't take a single dime of her money. But I signed that fake agreement, stating I was leaving him voluntarily in exchange for cash. Then, I put on a show, pretending to be a gold-digger who had fallen in love with someone else. I still remember the look in Ethan’s eyes—the shock, the fury, the sense of ultimate betrayal. He smashed the ceramic mug we made together, pointed at the door, and screamed at me to get out. Shortly after, he followed his family's wishes and left the country with Vivian. We hadn't seen each other for five years.Helena’s voice snapped me back to reality. "Chloe, Ethan brought Vivian back. They’re getting married next month." I nodded. "I know. We bumped into each other at the hospital earlier." Panic instantly flashed across Helena's face. "What... what did he say to you?" "Nothing much. He just congratulated me on finally getting my karma," I said flatly. Helena's face flushed, then paled. She took a deep breath, as if making up her mind. "Chloe, I know I've wronged you." Her voice sank to a whisper. "But Chloe, for the past five years, our family wouldn't have survived without the Lockharts' support." "I’m here today because I need to ask you for one more favor." She finally revealed her true motive. "That boy... he still hasn’t completely let go of you. But they’ve come so far. Nothing can go wrong with this wedding." "If he finds out the truth—that you were actually sick back then—I'm afraid he..." She trailed off, her eyes filled with desperation and a subtle, threatening edge. "So, could you please avoid Ethan for now?" "Since you're... well, since the doctors said you don't have much time left anyway, it's best if you just stay home and rest, right?" I snapped my head up to look at her. Avoiding my gaze, she pulled a thick envelope from her purse and pushed it toward me. "There's ten thousand dollars in here. Take it. Consider it a little compensation from me." I stared at the envelope, a lump forming in my throat. Five years ago, I refused her money and only begged her to help me hide my illness so I could suffer alone. Five years later, she was still trying to buy me off, all to protect her son's marriage and her family's social standing. I guess in her eyes, I would always be that cheap, disposable orphan who could be paid to disappear. Suddenly, I felt incredibly exhausted. I didn't even have the energy to smile. "Take your money back," I said, my voice dry. "Ethan already gave me five hundred thousand." Helena froze. Her expression shifted into a complex mix of surprise and pure relief. "That's good. Ethan always had a soft heart." She paused. "Then, about what I said..." "Don't worry," I interrupted her, my eyes drifting to the gray sky outside the window. "I won't look for him. I won't interfere with his life, and I certainly won't ruin his wedding." I paused, summoning every ounce of strength to keep my voice steady. "Tell him I wish him a happy marriage." Having secured the promise she wanted, Helena's shoulders relaxed. After offering a few more hollow words of concern, she stood up and left. The moment the door clicked shut, all my strength vanished. I collapsed onto the sofa. A violent wave of nausea hit me. I rushed into the cramped bathroom and dry-heaved into the toilet. Nothing came out but tears blurring my vision. The painkillers were wearing off. That familiar, agonizing ache began to gnaw at my bones again. I stared at my reflection in the mirror—sunken cheeks, a skeletal frame. I forced a smile that looked worse than crying. Chloe Sanders, look at you. This is your karma. But if you could do it all over again, would you make a different choice? There was no other way.That five hundred thousand dollars acted like a strong dose of anesthesia, temporarily delaying my death sentence, though it couldn't change the final outcome. I bought better medication and underwent two rounds of treatment. My body seemed to improve slightly—or at least, I didn't gasp for air after walking a few steps anymore. My best friend, Harper, came to visit me with red eyes. She said she had found me an easy job through a contact. A receptionist at an art gallery. Two hundred dollars a day, paid daily. I knew she was just trying to help because she knew I wouldn't accept direct charity. I also knew my own physical limits. So, I agreed. I didn't want to spend the final days of my life just waiting around to die. I needed the money, but more than that, I needed a distraction to numb my mind. Something to keep me from thinking about Ethan, and from dwelling on a past I could never return to. But as I stood in the elegantly decorated art gallery, wearing an ill-fitting uniform and a face mask, fate decided to play another cruel joke on me. Ethan and Vivian walked in arm-in-arm. He was a VIP guest, and she was the beautiful fiancée by his side. I instinctively lowered my head, trying to shrink into the shadows. But Ethan recognized me instantly. Even with the mask, even with my hunched posture. His gaze locked onto me with absolute precision. He abandoned the guests he was chatting with and walked straight toward me. Vivian, holding his arm, followed him with a confused look. "Chloe Sanders?" His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room, silencing the surrounding chatter. "What a small world." A mocking smirk played on his lips. "What, did you burn through that five hundred thousand already? You actually have to work a crappy job like this to survive?" The stares from the crowd pricked my skin like needles. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Vivian gently tugged at Ethan’s arm and said softly, "Ethan, don't be like that. Maybe Chloe is going through a hard time..." "A hard time?" Ethan sneered, his eyes scanning my pale, wasted face. "What kind of hard time could a woman who dumped her boyfriend for cash possibly have? She got exactly what she deserved." He took a step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me, crushing me with an invisible pressure. "Or did you know I'd be here today, and decided to play hard-to-get again?" I looked at his familiar yet foreign face, seeing nothing but raw hatred in his eyes. Suddenly, any explanation felt completely pointless. I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Mr. Vance, you’ve misunderstood. I’m just doing my job here. If my presence offends you and your fiancée, I apologize." I bowed my head, trying to slip past them. But suddenly, Vivian gasped, pointing at a barely visible smudge on the hem of her gown. "My dress!" She frowned, glaring at me. "Excuse me? Watch where you're going! You ruined my dress!" Ethan’s face darkened instantly. He snatched the cleaning cloth right out of my hand and threw it to the floor. "Chloe, do you hate seeing me happy that much? Do you really have to ruin things in front of my fiancée?" "This dress is Vivian's favorite. It's a limited edition worth tens of thousands of dollars." He stared down at me, his eyes freezing cold. "Can you even afford to replace it?" The gallery fell silent, and then whisperings erupted like a swarm of flies. "So she's the gold-digging ex-girlfriend who dumped Mr. Vance for money..." "Yikes. Look at her now. Talk about karma." "Ruining Vivian's dress? She's so screwed." I stood there, completely isolated, feeling like a circus clown. The energy drained from my body. My vision began to blur into darkness. I knew I was about to collapse.When I woke up, Harper was fussing over me, taking care of everything. Her voice was thick with anger. "Ethan doesn't know you're sick, does he? He actually thinks you left him just for the money?" I remained silent, offering no answer. "I knew it!" Harper snapped, frustrated by my stubbornness. "You two loved each other so much. Chloe, why won't you just tell him the truth? You suffered so much for him, and look how he treats you now..." "Harper," I interrupted her, my voice hoarse. "The past is the past. Let it go." "But—" "No buts." I took a deep breath. "He and I ended a long time ago. He's doing well now, and that's all that matters." "So that gives him the right to humiliate you like this?" Harper argued. "Chloe, you're being stupid! You ruined your own life for him. And what about him?” “He’s successful, he’s got a beautiful fiancée, and he treats you like dirt! Why do you let him?" "Because of the choice I made," I said softly. "I chose this path. I have to live with the consequences." Harper fell silent for a long time. Finally, she whispered, "Chloe, why do you have to torture yourself like this?" "I’m not torturing myself." I stared at the water stains on the ceiling. "I’m just accepting reality." After Harper left, the apartment fell back into a dead silence. Her words were like a pebble dropped into a quiet pond, sending ripples through my heart, but they quickly faded. Tell him the truth? And then what? Let Ethan know his own mother literally knelt and begged me to leave him? Let Ethan know he misunderstood me when I was at my absolute weakest? Fill him with guilt, pain, and regret? No. I already ruined our past. I couldn't ruin his present and future, too. Let me carry this heavy truth to my grave alone. The sky darkened. I struggled to sit up, wanting to pour myself a glass of water. But a sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I began to cough violently. I covered my mouth, coughing so hard my chest felt like it was ripping apart. When I pulled my hand away, a bright, terrifying crimson stained my palm. Blood. The cancer was spreading. Looking at the blood, I felt a strange sense of relief. It seemed even surviving this last month was going to be a luxury. In the days that followed, I stayed cooped up in my apartment, barely leaving. My health fluctuated. On good days, I could make myself some oatmeal. On bad days, I couldn't even get out of bed. I didn't look for another job. After the incident at the gallery, I had lost all courage to face the outside world. Harper visited often, bringing me groceries and helping me tidy up. She stopped begging me to seek treatment. She just stayed by my side, watching me waste away day by day. Sometimes, she would hold me and cry, calling me a fool. I would just pat her back, saying nothing. One afternoon, while I was drifting in and out of sleep, a loud knock startled me. The knocks were urgent, heavy. My heart squeezed with a sudden, terrible premonition. I struggled to drag myself to the door and looked through the peephole. Standing outside was Ethan. He was wearing a tailored black coat, his face darker than a storm cloud. How did he find this place? I instinctively took a step back, holding my breath, terrified of making a sound. "Chloe, I know you're in there," Ethan's voice cut through the door, cold and demanding. "Open the door."