"Hello, Ken... can I speak to you for a minute?" Emily asked, her eyes searching his.
Ken was momentarily stunned. He wondered for a split second how she knew he'd be here, but the thought clicked into place almost instantly. Mikael had brought him to this restaurant a dozen times. It was the only landmark of Ken's life Mikael truly cared to remember.
"About what?" Ken asked, his expression shifting into a mask of unreadable calm.
"Everything... please, just a moment," Emily pleaded.
They walked together toward the small grassy field behind the building—the spot where the "Trio" of Amy, Laura, and Ken usually spent their breaks. Ken sat beneath the familiar shade of the tree while Emily stood a few feet away, her rose-patterned dress fluttering in the light breeze.
"I heard Mikael broke up with you," Emily began, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry, Ken. I know it's my fault. I didn't mean any harm, I never wanted to—"
"I know," Ken interrupted softly. "It's not your fault, Emily. It's his. And frankly speaking? I believe it was the best choice."
Emily froze, her apology dying on her lips. She had expected to find him devastated, perhaps even bitter toward her. The sight of him—peaceful, grounded, and unusually clear-eyed—left her speechless.
"You... you're fine with it?" she asked, her confusion evident.
"It's not about being fine," Ken said, looking up at the swaying branches above. "It's about seeing the truth. I promised myself I would never be an 'option' to someone, and I wouldn't be a second choice. With or without you around, Emily, I was always an option to Mikael."
He met her gaze, his voice steady. "You should know by now... it doesn't matter who Mikael dates. They will always be the second choice. Because you, Emily, will always be the first. Seeing this now, I realize he never loved me. He never really loved anyone. Your departure left a void so vast he spent years trying to fill it with people. I was just the best pick. But you? You're the only one who actually fits."
"Still... it doesn't feel right," Emily whispered, a tear escaping. "I love him, and I know he loves me, but hurting people to heal himself is wrong. Because of me, he keeps hurting people over and over. How can I live with that?"
Ken stood up, brushing the grass from his pants. He looked her straight in the eye. "Emily, I've heard the whole story. Neither of you are at fault for the mess of the past. But while you handled the trauma better, it doesn't mean you weren't both victims. I just got caught in the crossfire."
"I can't even look him in the face," she murmured, turning away.
"Don't feel guilty. If anything, it's a good thing you came back. You've saved Mikael—and everyone else he would have dated—from a lifetime of misery disguised as love. They won't have to wonder if they're 'enough' anymore. And neither will he. If you are his sanity, please stay with him. If you are his love, remain there. Don't let anyone ruin your second chance."
Ken turned to leave, his heart feeling strangely light despite the ache.
"And what about you?" Emily called out after him.
Ken stopped. He didn't look back, but his voice carried clearly through the wind. "I'll be fine. it won't be easy, but I'll survive. I always do."
As he walked away, a single, hot tear traced a path down his cheek. He had told her the truth, but the truth didn't stop the memory of his first love from stinging.
Later that afternoon, Ken entered the hospital with a practiced smile. He carried a small bouquet of fresh flowers and a bag of fruit, determined to hide his heartbreak from his mother. He planned to spend his entire week off by her side, using the time to heal both of them.
But as he stepped into her room, his smile faltered.
His eyes didn't land on his mother first. They landed on the windowsill. There, sitting in a crystal vase, was a bunch of fresh, vibrant daffodils and a bowl of polished apples.
Ken's blood ran cold. He had been at Lucien's penthouse until 10:00 AM. Yet, in that short window of time, Lucien had managed to visit the hospital, deliver these gifts, and still return to make Ken breakfast in bed.
"Hey, Mom..." Ken said, walking toward the window. He set his own flowers down beside the daffodils. His fingers grazed the yellow petals. They were still cool, as if they had just been cut.
"I'm holding up, darling," his mother replied, her voice weak but warm. "How have you been, Kenny?"
"I'm holding up, too," Ken said, turning to her. "Did... did that guy come here today? Or did he send someone?"
"Oh, he came himself," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "He always does. Every single day."
Ken looked back at the daffodils. What is the goal here? he wondered. Favors don't last this long. And how does he have this much time? A man of that status shouldn't be hand-delivering flowers to a his mother himself regularly.
He sat by her bedside, noting the weary, tired lines around her eyes. The life was slowly being siphoned out of her, yet she still fought to smile for him.
"So, darling..." she said, her eyes twinkling with a bit of the old mischief. "How is school? How are the jobs? And more importantly... who is that 'Mr. Right'?"
"Mr. Right?" Ken stammered. "I don't have a... we aren't..."
He stopped. He had never brought Mikael here. He had never even mentioned Mikael to her. If she was assuming there was a man in his life, she could only be referring to one person.
"I'm not a child, Kenny," she said softly. "People don't do favors like this for a month—especially not men as wealthy as him. What did you say his name was?"
"Lucien. Lucien Luther," Ken replied.
"Yes, Lucien. He's been coming here every day. He delivers the flowers himself. He checks my charts. He talks to the doctors. I know what 'desire' looks like, Ken. He wants something. And since I'm just a sick lady with nothing to offer... my best guess is he wants you."
"I don't think so," Ken said, looking away, his heart thumping. "He gives me mixed signals. One minute he's taking care of me, the next he's cold and invisible. I don't think he wants me, Mom."
"Then how did he know you were still sleeping in this morning?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "And how did he know you had the week off to rest?"
Ken's head snapped up. "Wait... he told you all that?"
"Yes. He said you needed the sleep. He said you'd be visiting today. And here you are."
Ken was paralyzed. Lucien hadn't just 'let' him leave the penthouse. He had planned the departure. He had orchestrated the timing.
Before he could spiral further, the door swung open. It was Dr. Finn, the lead oncologist.
"Hello, Mr. Ken. Can I speak to you for a moment?"
Ken stood up, his mouth dry, and followed the doctor into the hallway and toward his office. The air in the hospital suddenly felt very thin.
The doctor took his seat and gestured for Ken to do the same. He pulled a thick manila folder from his desk and laid it between them.
"This is about the experimental treatment we signed her for last month," Dr. Finn began, his expression grave. "The results from the first cycle are out. I have news for you."
Ken's hands began to tremble as they rested on the edge of the desk. He remembered the ultimatum: if the treatment worked, she might have two years. If it didn't... she had less than six months.
He looked at the doctor, his voice barely a whisper. "So... what are the results?"