As I walked away from the town, I felt a sense of emptiness wash over me. I had left behind everything I loved, everything that brought me joy. But I knew it was necessary. I couldn't bear the thought of Jackson watching me die, of him holding my hand as my life slipped away.
I walked for hours, the darkness surrounding me like a shroud. I didn't know where I was going, I just knew I had to keep moving. Finally, I saw a light in the distance - a small cottage nestled in the heart of the forest. I stumbled towards it, exhaustion and grief washing over me.
As I reached the door, it opened, and a kind-faced old woman stood before me. "Welcome, child," she said, her voice warm and soothing. "I've been expecting you."
I was taken aback, but I had no strength to question her. I simply nodded, and she led me inside. She gave me food and water, and a warm bed to sleep in. I collapsed onto it, my body and mind exhausted.
As I slept, I dreamed of Jackson, of his smile, his laughter, his eyes. I dreamed of the life we could have had, the life we would never have.
When I woke, the old woman was sitting beside me, her eyes filled with compassion. "You're dying, aren't you?" she asked, her voice gentle.
I nodded, tears streaming down my face.
"I can help you," she said. "I can make your passing easier."
I looked at her, hope rising in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, I could find some peace in my final days.
And so, I stayed with the old woman, who cared for me with kindness and compassion. She gave me medicine to ease my pain, and listened to me as I talked about Jackson, about our love, about my fears.
As the days passed, I grew weaker, but I also found a sense of peace. I knew I had made the right decision, sparing Jackson the pain of watching me die.
But even in my peace, I couldn't shake the thought of Jackson, of his smile, his laughter, his eyes. I loved him, always.
JACKSON POINT OF VIEW 
I walked up to Cecilia's house, feeling a sense of excitement and nervousness. We had shared such a beautiful moment yesterday, and I couldn't wait to see her again.
But as I reached her front door, I noticed something was off. The door was slightly ajar, and the windows were dark.
"Cecilia?" I called out, pushing open the door.
There was no response.
I stepped inside, my heart racing with concern. The house was empty, silent.
And then, I saw it. A letter on the kitchen table, addressed to me.
My hands trembled as I opened it, my eyes scanning the pages.
"My dearest Jackson," it read. "I'm sorry. I had to leave. I couldn't bear the thought of you watching me die. I love you, always."
No. No, no, no.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. She was gone. She had left me.
I stumbled backward, collapsing onto the couch. The letter slipped from my hands, falling to the floor.
Why did she do this? Why did she leave me?
Tears streamed down my face as I realized the truth. She had left to spare me the pain of watching her die.
But she didn't understand. I wanted to be with her, every moment, every second.
I leapt to my feet, determination burning within me. I would find her. I would bring her back.
I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door, driven by a singular focus: to find Cecilia, to be with her, no matter what.
Where could she be? Where did she go?
I sped through the streets, my mind racing with possibilities.
And then, I remembered the old woman who lived in the forest. Cecilia had told me about her once.
I turned the car around, heading towards the forest.
Please, let me find her. Please, let me be with her again.
As I drove, the trees blurring together, I whispered a single word:
"Cecilia."
CECILIA POINT OF VIEW 
I sat in the old woman's cottage, my phone in my hand, as I dialed my parents' number. I knew I had to tell them something, but I couldn't bring myself to reveal the truth.
"Hey, Mom," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "I need to travel for a bit."
"Oh, okay, sweetie," she replied. "Where are you going?"
I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I couldn't tell her I was going to spend my last days in a remote cottage, surrounded by strangers.
"I'm not sure yet," I said finally. "I just need to get away for a bit."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I knew my mom was worried.
"Cecilia, is everything okay?" she asked. "You can tell me, sweetie."
I took a deep breath, trying to reassure her. "Everything's fine, Mom. I just need some time to myself."
She didn't press the issue, but I knew she wasn't convinced.
"Okay, sweetie," she said. "Just be careful, and don't forget to call us."
I hung up the phone, feeling a pang of guilt. I had lied to my parents, but I couldn't bear the thought of them worrying about me.
The old woman came over and sat beside me, her eyes filled with compassion.
"You did the right thing, child," she said. "They wouldn't understand."
I nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude towards her.
But as I looked out the window, I couldn't shake the thought of Jackson, of his smile, his laughter, his eyes.
I wondered if he had found my letter, if he was looking for me.
And I knew, in that moment, that I would never see him again.
The old woman, whose name was Elara, explained to me that I had to stay with her for five days before moving to another place. She said it was necessary for my own safety, that I couldn't just leave without making sure I wasn't being followed.
I didn't understand, but I trusted Elara. She had taken me in, cared for me, and shown me kindness when I needed it most.
So, I stayed with her for five days, resting, eating, and trying to regain some strength. Elara gave me medicine to ease my pain, and taught me how to manage my symptoms.
On the fifth day, Elara woke me up early. "Today's the day," she said. "We have to leave now."
I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. I was scared, but also relieved. I knew I had to keep moving, to find a safe place to spend my last days.
Elara led me to a small car, parked outside the cottage. We drove for hours, winding through mountains and forests, until we reached a small airport.
Elara handed me a ticket, and a small bag with some clothes and medicine. "This is it," she said. "You'll be safe here."
I looked at the ticket, and saw that I was going to a place called "Serena's Haven". I had never heard of it, but Elara assured me it was a safe place, where I could live out my days in peace.
I hugged Elara, trying to hold back tears. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for everything."
Elara smiled, her eyes shining with kindness. "You're welcome, child. Remember, you're not alone."
And with that, I boarded the plane, leaving Elara and the only life I had ever known behind.
As I arrived at Serena's Haven, I was struck by its beauty. The facility was surrounded by lush gardens, and the buildings were designed to resemble a cozy village.
I was greeted by a warm staff member, who showed me to my room. It was comfortable, with a big window overlooking the gardens.
Over the next few days, I met the other residents. There was Emma, a young girl with cancer, who was always smiling despite her pain. There was Jack, a middle-aged man with Parkinson's, who still managed to make us laugh with his jokes.
But what struck me most was that they all had their families with them. Emma's parents were always by her side, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement. Jack's wife was his rock, helping him with his medication and physical therapy.
And then there was me. Alone.
I realized, with a pang of sadness, that Elara had sent me here for a reason. She wanted me to see that family was everything, even in the toughest times.
I felt a wave of regret wash over me. Why had I pushed Jackson away? Why had I thought I could face this alone?
As I watched the other residents with their families, I finally understood. Family wasn't just about blood ties; it was about the people who stood by you, no matter what.
I wished, with all my heart, that I had let Jackson be my strength. I wished I had let him hold my hand, like Emma's parents held hers.
But it was too late now. I was alone, and I had to face the end by myself.
Or so I thought.
As I sat in the garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature, I heard a voice behind me.
"Cecilia?"
My heart skipped a beat. It was a voice I knew, a voice I loved.
I turned, and there he was. Jackson. Standing in front of me, his eyes shining with tears.
"Cecilia," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm so sorry. I should have been here for you."