14
Whether it was karma or not, Ryan was diagnosed with stomach cancer.
When he looked at the diagnosis, his face remained expressionless. There was no fear, only a sense of release.
He immediately chose to forgo treatment.
His mother clung to him, sobbing for hours, but he was unmoved.
His father turned away, hiding his face as tears streamed silently down his cheeks.
Ryan handed the company over to someone else and spent the rest of his time retracing the steps of our past together–visiting the places we went, walking the same streets, eating the same food.
On my birthday, he got drunk and went street racing.
Even as a ghost, sitting in the passenger seat of his car, I was terrified.
He wasn’t racing; he was seeking death.
At the final turn, Ryan slammed the brakes and drove straight into the side of a mountain.
There was a loud crash, and the entire car burst into flames.
I was frozen in fear, my face pale as I instinctively screamed, “Ryan, are you insane?!”
Through the flames, Ryan seemed to hear me.
He turned his head and looked straight at me.
For the first time in so long, he smiled.
And then, as tears streamed down his face, he began to cry.
“I miss you, Nina.”
