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He changed into a different outfit–one I’d never seen before–and spent the entire day
with me.
I watched him closely, worried that he might collapse at any moment. I was terrified he’d
start coughing up blood or worse.
But he didn’t.
Instead, after dinner, he asked me if I wanted to watch the moon.
We climbed onto the roof together and sat there, side by side, sipping tea under the stars.
We talked for hours about anything and everything. It felt like old times, like nothing had changed like the end wasn’t creeping closer with every breath.
When the night was almost over, Michael handed me something.
It was a jade pendant.
“Take this,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I made it myself. Think of it as… a keepsake.”
I ran my fingers over the smooth surface, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill
from my eyes.
Then, hesitantly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out something of my own.
I handed it to him.
Michael froze, staring at the object in my hand. “What’s this?” he asked.
“My account,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “I want you to have it. If… if it’s possible, I hope it can stay with you. Wherever you’re going.”
The words came out in fragments, choked and uneven. My chest tightened, and tears streamed down my face before I could stop them.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, wiping my eyes. “I didn’t mean to cry. The mood was so nice, and now I’ve ruined it.””
