Oliver sat beside his mother's hospital bed, his eyes fixed on the pale ceiling tiles. The steady beep of the heart monitor mixed with the low hum of the air conditioner made a strange rhythm that only reminded him of how fragile everything had become. His mother's chest rose and fell slowly under the thin blanket, oxygen taped carefully to her nose. The lines on her face looked even more sharper, her skin pale, almost translucent.
She had always kept things from him, always smiling through her exhaustion and pain, as if she already believed there's nothing he could do. And now, sitting here, he realized just how much he hadn't known, how much she had carried on her own.
A quiet click of the door caught his attention. He blinked, startled, and saw a figure step in. The familiar elegance of her posture made him tense immediately. Mrs Adrien. She didn't rush or glare; she just stood at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped lightly in front of her. She looked at him with an almost careful calm, but he could sense the weight behind her gaze.
"Oliver," she said softly, her voice polite but firm. "Come with me."
Oliver hesitated. "Mrs Adrien… I—"
"No questions," she interrupted gently but decisively. "Just follow me."
He didn't want to. His mother's frail breathing and the machines around her made it feel like leaving her side was a betrayal. But Mrs Adrien's look carried authority he couldn't ignore. Slowly, reluctantly, he rose from the chair and followed her out of the ward.
The hallway was quiet, the sterile smell of the hospital lingering in the air. Mrs Adrien walked with a purpose, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Oliver kept his head down, silent, confused, unsure what awaited him.
Finally, they reached a small private consultation room. Mrs Adrien motioned for him to sit. He obeyed, still hesitant, still tense. She leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed lightly, giving him a measured, steady look.
"You've been taking very good care of your mother," Mrs Adrien started, her tone almost conversational. "I've been watching… quietly. She's lucky to have you."
Oliver shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. "I… I just want her to get better," he said quietly.
"Yes," Mrs Adrien agreed, nodding. "Of course. That's exactly why I'm here."
Oliver frowned. "I don't understand."
She let out a soft sigh. "I won't waste time with niceties. You need to hear this, and I will say it plainly."
Oliver felt a knot in his stomach tighten.
"Your mother… she is very ill," Mrs Adrien continued, her voice even. "The doctors have been clear. Late-stage pancreatic cancer. There is treatment available, options that can give her more time… maybe even years. But it comes with a cost. A very high cost."
Oliver's hands clenched. "I know...I knew," he whispered, almost to himself.
Mrs Adrien's eyes were calm, almost cold, but there was something sharp behind them. "It's not just about money. It's about making choices. You cannot focus only on her care. There are consequences… difficult consequences. And there is something I need to ask you."
Oliver looked up, heart hammering. "Ask me what?"
She leaned forward slightly. "You are aware, I assume." Her eyes briefly flicked to him, sharp and assessing. "Liam. Your… involvement with him. I know what your heart wants, Oliver. But if you continue this path, it will complicate your mother's care. If you want me to ensure she gets the treatment she needs—without obstacles, without delays—you must… step back. You must stay away from Liam after graduation. Disappear from his life completely"
Oliver froze. The words hit him like a thunderclap. "Disappear?" he whispered, voice trembling.
Mrs Adrien's expression didn't soften. "Yes. Stop putting yourself in situations that could jeopardize her life. I can provide the financial support necessary for the hospital, for her treatment. I can make sure she receives everything she needs. But this comes with conditions. It is your choice. You choose your mother's life, or… you choose Liam."
Oliver's mind spun. But he remained quiet.
"It is the only way to ensure her survival without complications. I am offering you a lifeline for her. That is all. Do you understand?"
He felt his chest tighten, his heart clenching painfully. "I… I don't know what to say," he murmured.
Mrs Adrien's gaze softened ever so slightly. "You don't need to speak yet. Think. Decide. But remember… this is about saving her life." She straightened, the cold, distant aura returning. "This isn't just your choice. It is a responsibility. One you cannot ignore."
Oliver lowered his head, feeling tears sting the corners of his eyes. The thought of leaving Liam, the thought of making this impossible choice, made his body ache in ways he couldn't describe.
Mrs Adrien gave a small nod. "I will give you time. But remember, every day counts. Think carefully, Oliver. For your mother's sake."
And with that, she rose, her heels clicking softly as she left the room, leaving Oliver alone with his thoughts.
He sat there, staring at the chair across from him, the silence of the room pressing in, the weight of the choice like a stone on his chest. His mother's soft breathing in the ward, Liam's smile, the warmth of last night—all of it collided in his mind.
He didn't move. He couldn't. All he could do was sit there, hands gripping the edge of the chair, and let the tears slide silently down his face...
The final days at Golden Crest had a strange, heavy air. The campus felt smaller somehow, as if every corner remembered all the moments Oliver and Liam had shared. Students bustled around, chattering, laughing, gossiping, packing up their lockers, but Oliver hardly noticed any of it. His mind kept returning to the conversation he had with Mrs Adrien—or rather, the demand she had placed on him. Stay away from Liam. For his mother.
It hurt. The thought of even considering it felt like someone was pressing on his chest. But he couldn't stop thinking about his mother lying in the hospital, the oxygen tube in her nose, her chest rising and falling so faintly. Every time he pictured her, he felt a pang of guilt, of helplessness.
But still, Liam stayed very close. Telling him not to worry that everything would turn out right.
Even now, when Oliver tried to shrink into himself, Liam still reached for his hand, still rested a shoulder against him in the hall, still pulled him into kisses when no one else was looking.
Oliver let it happen. He smiled at Liam's antics, let his hands slide into Liam's when he was close, even let Liam pull him down onto a bench in the courtyard or tuck him into the corner of the library. But his smiles never reached his eyes. His laughs sounded hollow. Even when Liam pressed close, whispered teasing words in his ear, or brushed his fingers along the back of his hand, Oliver felt like he was living two lives at once—one with Liam, one tethered to the impossible choice that Mrs Adrien had given him.
They were still together. They still spoke. They still did things together. But everything felt muted, like the colors of the world had dimmed. Liam noticed, of course—he always noticed—but he didn't push. Not too hard. He let Oliver have space when Oliver pulled back slightly, let him retreat when Oliver avoided looking him in the eyes.
Sometimes, late at night in the quiet corners of the restaurant, Liam would press him into the wall, fingers gripping his arms, lips pressing softly to his forehead, whispering, "I don't care what they say. I don't care what anyone thinks. I'm not letting go. And I'll make sure your mom became well again..at least for now"
And Oliver… Oliver would try to let himself believe that, if only for a moment. He let himself rest his head on Liam's chest, felt Liam's heartbeat thrum steady under his ear, let Liam's hand rest over his own. He even allowed Liam to kiss him, stroke his hair, tease him with those daring, bold touches Liam always used. But the weight in his chest never left. He knew every touch, every smile, every laugh he returned was a fragile mask over the fear that the world—or Mrs Adrien—was waiting to tear it all away.
And later… Oliver shrank. He avoided making long eye contact, kept his voice soft, careful. Sometimes he allowed himself a smile, but it was small, tight, like he was afraid to show the full thing.
The courtyard of Oliver's house smelled like the end of autumn—dry leaves, crisp air, sunlight low and golden. Liam leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching Oliver's lost face. He smiled as Oliver turned when he noticed he was staring.
"You're quiet today, I told you not to worry" Liam teased, brushing a hand along Oliver's shoulder.
"I'm fine," Oliver said softly, eyes fixed on the ground.
"See,I have a plan and I'm sure it's gonna work. Or is there something else bothering you" Liam said calmly, but still there's a hint of fear and concern in his voice. Then he reached out and lifted Oliver's chin, forcing him to meet Liam's eyes. "Hey. Look at me. You're hiding something, I can see it."
Oliver's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm just… tired," he murmured.
"You're lying," Liam said gently, leaning closer. "You don't have to hide from me."
Oliver swallowed, heart pounding. "I'm not hiding… I just…" He hesitated, caught between the fear of losing Liam and the guilt weighing on his chest. "I can't… I don't know what to do."
Liam let out a soft laugh, more a sigh than a laugh, and pulled him into a hug. "This, we'll figure it out. Together."
Oliver let himself lean into him, let himself feel the warmth, the security, the bold confidence radiating from Liam. But deep down, he knew that something had to give. Graduation was coming. The future was coming. And the choice Mrs Adrien had forced on him was always there, lurking like a shadow between them.
Oliver realized that their final days at Golden Crest were slipping past them like sand through fingers. Every laugh, every touch, every stolen kiss might be their last without him even knowing...