Chapter 5

Freya's POV

The Alaskan sky was still a deep navy blue, with mountain silhouettes barely visible through the dawn. In the minus twenty-degree cold, I wrapped myself in a heavy down coat, my frail body swaying in the wind, but my eyes burned with unwavering determination.

"Patty, baby, Mommy brought you to see the sunrise," I whispered to the sky, my voice barely audible against the howling wind.

The chemotherapy side effects made me dizzy and nauseous, each breath feeling like a knife slicing through my lungs. But I had been waiting for three full hours, determined to fulfill the first wish on my daughter's bucket list—to see a sunrise.

Suddenly, the first golden ray appeared on the horizon.

"There it is! Patty, can you see it?" I exclaimed, tears instantly streaming down my face and freezing into crystals on my cheeks.

Golden light spread across the sky like silk, the sun rising slowly like a massive fireball, painting the snow-capped mountains crimson and gold. With trembling hands, I held up my phone to record: "Baby, this is the sunrise you wanted to see. Isn't it beautiful? Mommy saw it for you..."

My voice cracked with emotion, tears flowing endlessly: "You said you wanted to watch the sunrise with Mommy and Daddy. Now Mommy is representing all three of us. Even though I'm here alone, you can see it from heaven, can't you?"

The sunrise lasted half an hour, and I stood there for the entire time until my feet went completely numb.

On the flight back, I finally collapsed. When the flight attendant found me unconscious, my face was paper-white with blood at the corner of my mouth.

"Ma'am! Ma'am!"

The crew immediately contacted ground medical services, rushing me to the hospital as soon as we landed.

"A late-stage lung cancer patient absolutely cannot put her body through this kind of stress!" Dr. Martinez said sternly, looking at my test results. "Your lungs are severely damaged. If you don't cooperate with treatment..."

"Doctor, how much time do I have left?" I interrupted, my eyes eerily calm.

"If you continue like this, a month at most." The doctor sighed. "I strongly recommend immediate hospitalization and aggressive treatment."

I shook my head: "No need. I have important things to finish."

I insisted on being discharged. Unable to persuade me otherwise, the doctor could only prescribe pain medication.

Walking out of the hospital, I pulled out my phone and looked at the remaining four wishes on the list: learn to make Daddy's favorite sandwich, adopt a little orange cat, ride a Ferris wheel at an amusement park, and finish that little night light for Daddy.

"Four more. Mommy will complete them all."

Back in my shabby apartment, I frantically began learning to make sandwiches. My hands shook from chemotherapy, and I accidentally cut my finger while slicing ham, blood dripping onto the bread.

"No, I have to start over." I bandaged the wound and continued with the next one.

After making more than a dozen, I finally created one I was satisfied with. Looking at the neatly arranged sandwiches, I smiled with contentment: "Patty, Mommy learned how to make Daddy's favorite sandwich, even though he might never eat it."

Next, I went to a pet store and adopted a little orange cat, naming it Kitty.

"Kitty, you'll keep Mommy company in Patty's place." I held the warm kitten, showing my first genuine smile in ages.

The kitten seemed to sense my sadness, quietly curling up in my arms and gently patting my face with its tiny paws.

While sorting through Patty's belongings, I accidentally discovered her learning tablet still had battery. Opening the photo album, I unexpectedly found a hidden folder—"Words for Mommy."

I clicked on the first video, and Patty's innocent face appeared on the screen.

"Mommy, I want to secretly record a video for you." My seven-year-old daughter smiled sweetly at the camera. "I noticed Mommy always cries in secret. Every time I pretend to be asleep, I can hear Mommy crying."

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, tears instantly flooding my eyes.

"I heard Daddy talking to that pretty lady. They said I'm not Daddy's child. I don't know what that means, but Mommy, I don't care, because I love you most of all."

"Mommy, do you know? I really hope Daddy could come home to be with us." Patty's eyes sparkled with innocent hope. "If Daddy came back, Mommy wouldn't cry anymore, right?"

The next videos broke my heart even more. Patty showed off the Father's Day gift she'd been secretly making—that little night light.

"Daddy said he's afraid of the dark, so I want to make the most beautiful lamp for him." The little girl assembled the parts with intense concentration. "Mommy, I know Daddy doesn't seem to like me very much, but I still want to do something for him."

"Teacher says if you're nice to others, they'll be nice to you too." She blinked innocently. "If Daddy has this lamp, he won't be afraid of the dark anymore, and maybe... maybe he'll like me just a little bit."

The last video showed Patty planning to surprise Stanley on Father's Day.

"Tomorrow is Father's Day, and I want to finish the lamp and put it in Daddy's study while he's not home." Patty's little face flushed with excitement. "Mommy, I want to see Daddy happy when he gets the gift, just like how happy you get when I give you my drawings!"

"If Daddy is happy, he'll come home to be with us, right? Then Mommy won't cry in secret anymore."

The video ended abruptly.

I clutched the tablet and sobbed uncontrollably: "Baby, you knew everything... You knew he didn't love us, so why did you still..."

I cried my heart out, as if trying to release all the pain inside me. My daughter had known the truth about our family all along, yet still loved that cold father with her pure heart, naively believing a little night light could earn his love.

The next day, I dragged my weak body to the amusement park. This was the last item on the bucket list—riding the Ferris wheel.

The ticket clerk noticed my pale complexion and asked with concern: "Ma'am, are you feeling alright?"

I managed a weak smile: "I'm fine. My daughter told me that if you make a wish at the highest point of a Ferris wheel, it'll come true."

In the slowly ascending Ferris wheel car, I sat alone, watching the city grow smaller below. When we reached the highest point, I closed my eyes and clasped my hands together.

"Patty, baby, Mommy is at the highest point of the Ferris wheel now, just like you said, closest to heaven." I whispered softly. "Can Mommy make a wish for you? I hope Daddy will be happy, and that he won't be troubled by darkness anymore."

The wind caressed my face, as if my daughter was responding. I opened my eyes, gazing at the endless sky: "And I hope we can reunite in heaven soon. This time, Mommy will never leave you alone again."

The Ferris wheel slowly descended. I had completed my daughter's final wish. All five wishes, fulfilled.

Back at the apartment, I sat by the window with little Kitty, watching the sunset. I was so weak I could barely speak, but my eyes held a peaceful sense of release.

"Baby, Mommy will come to be with you soon." I gently stroked the kitten's fur.

My phone suddenly buzzed with a message from an unknown number: "I'm Stanley's lawyer. He wants to meet with you about some important matters."

I looked at the message and smiled bitterly, shaking my head: "Too late. It's all too late."

I deleted the message without hesitation. I no longer had the strength to endure any more hope and disappointment.

Stanley's POV

I sat in the private investigator's office, holding the investigation report I'd just received.

"Freya Thompson, late-stage lung cancer, estimated survival time not exceeding one month." The investigator's voice echoed in the room. "According to hospital records, she has refused all aggressive treatment."

My hands began to shake uncontrollably, and the report slipped from my fingers.

Suddenly, a blurry image flashed through my mind—a woman smiling gently, but her face was unclear, her voice inaudible. This sense of déjà vu sent shooting pains through my head.

"Late-stage lung cancer... one month..." I repeated these words, an inexplicable pain welling up in my chest.

Why did hearing this news cause me such distress? According to Blondie, Freya was just a woman who approached me for money. I should feel relieved. But now, thinking of that woman dying, I felt like something was pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I shook my head and hurried out with the report.

Back at the mansion, I sat in my study, Patty's smiling face constantly flashing through my mind. That little girl... Blondie had told me she wasn't my child, but why did looking at the child's photos always cause this aching in my heart?

My memories were like shattered mirror fragments—some pieces crystal clear and painfully sharp, others so blurry I questioned their reality.

The last line of the report cut through my heart like a knife: "Patient refuses family visits, expressing desire to spend her remaining time in peace."

I slumped in my chair, suddenly realizing that if I did nothing, I might truly lose something important forever.

But what was it? And what should I do?

Everything left me confused and tormented. This feeling persisted for three days and nights until I could no longer bear it, deciding to go to the hospital for answers.