The Thousandth Day at Lake Louise

Two years after I broke Vincent Sterling’s heart, my lung cancer finally reached its terminal stage.
In the final moments of my life, I dragged my pain-wracked body to Lake Louise.
We had promised to come here together on our 1000th day.
In the end, I came alone.
My phone buzzed incessantly—my doctor, urging me to come back for another round of chemo. I silenced it and buried the locket Vincent had given me in the soft earth by the shore.
“Vincent,” I whispered, “this is the last time I’ll let myself think of you.”
“There might not be another chance.”
As the words left my lips, a drop of blood fell from my nose, staining the sand.
Just then, a voice I had ached to hear for three long years spoke from behind me. “Excuse me, miss? Could you take a picture of me and my girlfriend?”

1
My heart stopped.
Frantically, I wiped away the blood and turned. There he was. Vincent.
The second he saw me, his pupils contracted, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Vincent, do you know her?” The girl beside him, her arm linked familiarly through his, asked with open curiosity.
Vincent’s gaze snapped away from my face. He pulled the girl into a protective embrace, his voice as cold and sharp as the mountain wind.
“No. We’ve never met.”
Two years together, and now we were strangers.
A bitter smile twisted my lips. It felt like a thousand tiny needles were piercing my heart, making it impossible to breathe. Before I could process it, Vincent thrust a camera into my hands.
“Are you going to take it or not? We’re in a hurry.”
The girl seemed to think his tone was out of line and offered me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, miss. That’s just his temper.”
She turned to Vincent, a perfectly measured note of complaint in her voice. “Vincent, your mother sent us on this trip to get to know each other better. She insisted we send her photos. I know you’re not happy about it, but you can’t be so rude to people.”
She invoked his mother’s name, then turned back to me with a promise. “We’ll pay you for your time, miss. Thank you.”
Vincent’s brow furrowed. “Serena, don’t waste your breath.”
My mind went blank. So, this was Serena Vance.
The perfect daughter-in-law his mother had chosen for him two years ago.
I remembered that day vividly. I’d just finished cleaning up the chaotic mess at my grill shack and went to find Vincent, who had stepped away to take a call. I overheard his mother’s sharp, disdainful voice through the phone.
“The Sterling family’s future daughter-in-law will be an ambitious woman like Serena Vance.”
“What can a girl who runs a grill shack offer you? The nerve of her, trying to latch onto my son. Utterly shameless!”
And after a long, heavy silence, Vincent had replied.
“I understand, Mother. I’ll do as the family wishes. I’ll marry a woman you can approve of.”
I never thought they’d be making it official so soon.
My insides felt like they were being torn apart. The pain was so intense I could barely stand. I numbly took the camera.
In the viewfinder, Vincent’s arm was draped around Serena’s shoulder, his expression softening as he looked at her. Serena snuggled into his embrace, her smile radiant and sweet.
Click. I pressed the shutter.
Tears blurred my vision without warning.
Serena took the camera back, happily scrolling through the photos, completely oblivious to my state. But Vincent stepped closer to me, his voice a low, vicious hiss.
“Clara, who are you putting on this pathetic act for?”
“What, you regret it now? Weren’t you so carefree when you threw me away like trash?”
I forced the tears back, tilting my head up to meet his gaze with a brittle smile. “Aren't you reading a little too much into this, Mr. Sterling?”
“All I did was end a relationship that wasn't working. Don't act like it was some life-or-death tragedy.”
“I have never, not for a single moment, regretted breaking up with you.”
The color drained from his face as if I’d struck him.
“Fine,” he snarled. “Just fine, Clara. A person like you will never deserve anyone’s love.”
He spun around, grabbed Serena’s hand, and stormed away.
Only when his silhouette had shrunk to a distant speck did I finally let the bitter smile consume me.
He was right. I was the one who let go. What right did I have to cry?
I didn’t regret breaking up with him. I couldn’t afford to.
After all, I was dying.
My hand trembled as I fumbled in my bag for a syringe of pain medication. I expertly found a vein in my wrist and injected the cool liquid. As it spread through my body, I took one last look at the buried locket, then tossed the empty syringe and started my car.
But as I reached the park exit, I saw a commotion.
And in the middle of it was Vincent.
“What do you mean we can’t leave?” Vincent argued, his face a mask of frustration. The park staffer was unmoved.
“I’m sorry, sir. It’s peak tourist season. No pre-registered vehicles are allowed in or out.”
Vincent’s expression was thunderous. But then Serena spotted my car. Her eyes lit up, and she hurried over.
“Miss, I am so sorry to bother you again,” she said, tapping on my window with an apologetic look. “Vincent’s mother arranged this trip for us at the last minute. We were in such a rush, we forgot to register our vehicle online. Now we’re stuck.”
“I see your car is registered... could we possibly trouble you for a ride out of the park?”
My heart felt like it was sinking in deep water, drowning over and over.
For a fleeting, foolish moment when Vincent had first called out to me, I’d felt a spark of joy. I thought maybe, just maybe, he had come here for me.
But it was all just his mother’s plan.
I was the only one who remembered our 1000-day promise.
He was just passing through.
My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. My gaze met Vincent’s across the short distance.
Serena was still talking. “Our hotel is the Chateau Grand, just down the road. Please, miss...”
The Chateau Grand. The same hotel I had booked.
As if possessed, I heard myself say, “Okay.”
Serena’s face broke into a grateful smile. She slipped into the back seat and called out, “Vincent, hurry, get in.”
Vincent walked over, his hand instinctively reaching for the front passenger door.
His spot for two years.
But a fraction of an inch before his fingers touched the handle, he stopped, rerouted, and squeezed into the back with Serena.
The ride was suffocatingly silent.
I was already regretting my decision when Vincent’s voice cut through the quiet. He had spotted the bottle of pills in my center console.
“What’s that?”
It was my strongest prescription painkiller. I couldn’t let him know.
“Vitamins,” I lied.
“You’re really into wellness these days, aren’t you, Clara?” he sneered.
Serena playfully chided him. “Vincent, why are you always so sarcastic with her? You should be nicer.” As she spoke, she let out a delicate yawn.
Vincent naturally guided her head to rest on his shoulder, the movement practiced and gentle. “Get some sleep.”
Serena blushed. “But there are people here.”
A wave of dizziness washed over me.
Back when we were together, he would come to the shack every night to help me prep skewers and clear tables, working until the early hours of the morning. One time, I was so exhausted I just slumped down by the door, unable to stand. He sat right down on the dirty pavement next to me, laughing at how I smelled of grease and smoke.
And then he had pulled my head onto his shoulder.
We stared at the empty street in silence, and he suddenly turned to me, his eyes reflecting only me. “Clara, wait for me. I swear I’m going to marry you.”
Now, he belonged to someone else.
An unbearable pain ripped through my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was the cancer or my heart breaking all over again.
When we finally reached the hotel, I had just stepped out of the car when Vincent’s icy voice hit me.
“What are you doing, Clara? Still following us? The money for the ride has already been transferred.”
The pain made my breath catch in my throat. Just then, the hotel bellhop took my suitcase. “Miss Reed, welcome to the Chateau Grand. Your room is ready for you.”
Vincent’s face flushed as he realized his mistake. He awkwardly rubbed his nose and went to check in.
That night, the pain was so bad the world was spinning. I felt like I was on the verge of death.
Then, a frantic, incessant knocking echoed from my door.
Couldn’t a girl even die in peace?
Furious, I dragged myself out of bed and threw the door open, only to find Vincent standing there. Serena was behind him, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Miss Reed, I’m so sorry. The water heater in our room is broken. We were wondering if we could use your shower?”
My first instinct was to say no.
But Vincent seemed to read my mind, a cold smirk playing on his lips. “What’s the matter, Clara? Worried we’ll mess up your precious room? That stingy?”
He leaned in, his voice dropping. “Or are you hiding someone in there? Scared to let us see?”
His words stole the air from my lungs. I yanked the door wide open. “Be my guest!”
After Serena went into the bathroom, Vincent and I were left alone. The sound of running water filled the awkward, suffocating silence.
He just stood there, staring at me, his intense gaze making my skin crawl. I turned to escape to the balcony, but his voice, tight with suppressed emotion, stopped me.
“Clara, how long are you going to keep running?”
He took a step forward, reaching for my hand.
Terrified he would see the needle marks, I snatched it back.
He froze, his hand hanging empty in the air.
The next second, his eyes were bloodshot. He closed the distance between us, trapping me against the wall.
“You blocked my number, deleted me from everything. How long are you going to avoid me? Are you that afraid of me?”
“Why did you break up with me?”
“Was it because my project failed? Did you think I was useless, not good enough for you anymore? Or did some new guy catch your eye?”
“Clara, what did I do wrong? Just tell me, please.”
His voice was a raw, broken rasp, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
My own heart shattered watching him.
But what could I say?
That I had cancer and was about to die? That I’d heard his mother call me shameless? Or that I’d heard him promise her he’d marry a woman she approved of?
It was better this way. I couldn’t ruin his chance at happiness.
I turned my face away, repeating the lie that felt like acid on my tongue. “There’s no reason, Vincent. We... just weren’t a good fit.”
His breath hitched. He stared at me for a long moment, and then he laughed, a hollow, terrible sound.
“Fine. Fine. Fine.”
“You’re really something else, Clara.”
He gritted his teeth, pulled out his phone, and with a few furious taps, posted the picture they had taken at the lake. Then he shoved the screen in my face, forcing me to read the caption:
With the right person, in the right place.
“Not a good fit, huh, Clara?! Well, now I’m here with the right person! Are you satisfied now?!”
A coppery taste flooded my mouth.
I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. The raw cruelty on his face softened into confusion as he took in my state.
“Clara, you…”
Just as he was about to ask what was wrong, the bathroom door opened.
Serena emerged, wrapped in a towel. “Vincent, I’m done. Let’s go.”
Vincent was rooted to the spot. I shakily pointed to the door.
“Go,” I bit out. “What are you waiting for? Your girlfriend is calling you.”
“If you don’t listen to her, people might think you have someone else on your mind. You wouldn’t want them to think you’re that fickle, would you?”
He gave me one last, complicated look, then turned and left with Serena.
The moment the door clicked shut, I collapsed. I stumbled into the bathroom and retched a mouthful of blood into the sink.
I found another syringe and blindly jabbed it into my arm. As the drug took hold, I looked at my reflection—a pale, ghostly mask—and I finally broke down.
He was so close. Just a few steps away.
Vincent, I’m in so much pain. I can’t do this anymore. I wanted to tell him.
I wanted him to hold me, just one last time.
But I couldn’t. Never again.
Through the haze of pain, I thought I heard a whisper from outside the door. My name.
“...Clara.”
I must have been hallucinating.
I smiled a pale, broken smile. Just then, my phone rang.
The second I answered, my doctor’s furious voice exploded in my ear. “Clara! Are you trying to die?! Why haven’t you answered your phone in days?”
“You’ve missed your chemo appointment! Do you even care about your own life?! Get your ass back here now!”
I was in too much pain to form words, only managing a weak groan.
At that exact moment, my hotel room door was kicked open.
Vincent stormed in, snatched the phone from my hand, and without even looking at the caller ID, roared into it.
“Get back where? She’s busy! Go find someone else to bother!”
He hung up and advanced on me, grabbing my wrist, his face a cold sneer.
“Well, well, Clara. Now I see how you could dump me so easily. You already had someone new lined up.”
“What? Is the new guy this controlling? You just let him scream at you like that? Let him push you around?”
“You’re pathetic, Clara. I actually feel sorry for you.”
I had no strength left to pull away. Blood began to seep from the needle mark under his crushing grip. The cancer in my lungs was a fire, stealing my breath.
I gasped, trying to tell him he was wrong.
But in the next second, blood started streaming from my nose.
Vincent’s eyes widened in shock. Then his gaze dropped to the bleeding puncture on my wrist.
The color drained from his face, and his voice trembled.
“…What is this?”
My heart plummeted.
It was over.

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