"Yo, you dead?" Jamal asked suspiciously through the phone and I laughed quietly.

"Not yet. Are you waiting for my death to whisk away my signed Katy Perry sweater?" I teased.

"Hell yeah!"

"I know, so after my death, my sister won't get it. It'll be all yours," I announced and for a moment, I swear I heard him squeal.

"How many more days you'll live?" he asked between his noises of pure excitement which made me smile.

"Dunno," I mumbled and suddenly, I heard my mum call me from behind. Our entire family had gone to a family restaurant nearby for a delicious lunch. I suggested that we would go for a walk after lunch, so here we were, aimlessly strolling on the bridge.

"Your mamma near you? If she heard that I'm secretly wishing for your death, she'll castrate---"

"Relax, she didn't hear a thing," I whispered and pressed the phone above my chest to inform mum, "Maa, I'm going a little further! You guys can go home!"

"But honey---"

"I'll be fine! I just need fresh air!" I shouted and quickly walked further to put some distance between my family and me.

My family, especially my mum was always lingering around me and I didn't quite blame her because I could drop dead any second. Any second.

Okay, I was exaggerating, but then sometimes I felt particularly low and when I started to feel nauseous or exhausted, I felt like I was dying. It wasn't true though. I still had some months to live and I was grateful for that.

"White chicks are crazy," I heard Jamal mutter under his breath since he had always been very scared of my mum and I snorted.

"My mum is half Asian---"

"And half white."

"Fair enough," I admitted and we remained silent for a while as I hunched over and stalked on the deserted bridge. The road bridge was constructed over our town's wide river, a major water source for many of us. It had a thick, black railing of either side to serve as a barrier. Occasionally, one or two cars passed by, but this flyover was mainly isolated during noon.

My mind was occupied by tense thoughts spinning around, the harsh noise of the river water and the gales swishing, creating absolute mayhem. There was a prolonged silence until I heard Jamal's voice.

"Let it all out, I know you won't call your fireman unless you need to be rescued," Jamal said in a sassy tone, proud of knowing me too damn well and I sighed.

"Well . . . Shaun got an internship abroad and will finally do something productive, but maa is not allowing him. She says that he needs to stay home and spend some quality time with his sisters, to look after me since I have some months left," I elucidated and Jamal just hummed in response. "So . . . What do you think?"

"I ain't got any say when it comes to your mamma, you deal with her your way 'cause she's always right," he replied nonchalantly and I shook my head in self-pity.

"Alright, knew you would say that-oh wait," I paused when my gaze flickered to a tall figure standing at the edge of the bridge as if the figure was ready to leap. I inhaled deeply and rushed through my words impulsively, "Listen, Jamie, there's kind of an emergency situation here. Call the cops and send them to the bridge over our town's river. There's a boy who might commit suicide."

I didn't know why I jumped straight to a conclusion, but the strong feeling in my gut screamed that the boy wasn't some daredevil, but depressed. A delay in my call could lead to death and perhaps I was being reckless, but better safe than sorry. Besides, the aura around him was plain glum.

"Holy shit---"

"Not now, Jamie, I-I'm serious," I hurriedly cut him off and hung up the call, praying desperately that Jamal would take this earnestly and actually call the cops. I could call the cops myself, but I didn't have the time. I bolted towards the boy who was dangerously balancing himself on the edge of the wide railing and my heart raced. His right foot dangled like he was mentally preparing himself to plummet down to his death.

My life would be over in some months, but not his. He was young and probably healthy- at least physically. He had a long way to go and he couldn't destroy himself now.

"Hey!" I called out while approaching him and he visibly flinched. I should have been more sensitive and vigilant since the negative result of this confrontation would lead to death. Suicide. Right in front of my eyes, I would witness a life getting squandered, just like that, within a snap of fingers.

I couldn't let that happen, I just couldn't.

I clutched my fleece jacket and yelled unceremoniously, "I-I won't let you die so easily. I can't do that, I'm sorry, I just can't . . . And if you jump, I'll jump right after you and I'm not even kidding. You see, I have cancer, so it doesn't matter if I die now or later. I'll be your mirror- you jump, I jump. You die, I die, as simple as that."

I did feel guilty for addressing my own problems when I knew that he was suffering from his own set of issues. I even regretted my choice of words, it sounded so selfish and I couldn't believe that I was blackmailing him.

The boy turned around slowly and I held my breath, afraid his feet might slip. His crestfallen ashen face was pale, his dark hair tousled and limp against his forehead and his sea-coloured eyes glassy and red-rimmed. He looked so vulnerable and raw like he would break down any second. I was glad that I could catch his attention since his hands were balled into fists as it almost seemed like he was waiting to hear me out.

"You see-see this scar." I pulled down my t-shirt a little to show the port scar below my collarbone and pointed at it, unsure if he could see it. "It's from chemo. I don't have a choice, but you do. You have a choice to save yourself."

I didn't know the reason which drove him to take such an extreme step, but I could only assume. Failed grades . . . Failed relationships or major issues like drug addiction . . . Alcoholism . . . However, the boy looked innocent enough to confirm that the reason was probably the former than the latter. Anyway, the reason didn't matter for now. What mattered was for him to not take such an extreme step.

I could see his legs wobbling and cold sweat trickled down my forehead. His gaze was averted to the ground and it seemed like he was in deep thought. Suddenly, my phone rang and in panic, I accidentally answered the call.

"Aye---"

"Hush Jamie . . . Listen, I'm trying to talk to that boy, to see if he can understand. Don't disturb me and just call the cops," I hissed and glanced at the boy who cocked his head, staring at me.

"Oh, he's still there . . . Boy, what are you doing?" Jamal raised his voice in bewilderment so the boy could hear and continued, "Don't do this. Listen to the blondie girl who probably pulled her cancer card out. She's right, although she's blonde and dumb."

"Alright, there's no time for this nonsense---"

"And boy, it's not going to be easy, but you'll eventually move on man. Blondie girl will---"

"Shut up! Why can't you understand? Bye," I cut the call abruptly while he continued to blabber.

The boy seemed baffled as he gave me a perplexed look.

"Look, in any way, I'm not letting you jump. I-I can't . . . I can't see life getting wasted just like that. You have a long way to go. You really do even if it's hard to believe right now," I croaked and stretched my hand out. "Come down now, will you? Come on, please."

I noticed his Adam's apple bobble as his gaze was fixated on my stretched out hand, his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. It seemed like he was battling an inner conflict with himself. I wiggled my fingers, encouraging him to hold my hand and get down. I had to be gentle with him and careful with my words.

"Come on, it's going to be alright. This will pass and you'll find yourself in a-a better position. There are so many people out-out there who love you. I know it's difficult right now and that's why I'm here. I'm here to help you and I do care about you. I really do care so come on now. You can do it. You're strong. I see it in you, honest to God I do," I whispered gently, a slight tremor in my voice which I couldn't suppress. He reluctantly held my hand. "Come on please, all will be okay soon."

My blackmailing methods hadn't taken me anywhere, but a few words of kindness did.

His hand was firm yet soft as I pulled him down hastily, afraid that he might change his mind and plunge into the river. He stumbled down and leaned against the railings as we awkwardly let our hands drop. My shoulders sagged in relief and I saw his chest heaving up and down. He was taking deep breaths as if trying to calm himself and my happiness of helping him to save himself was ephemeral when I heard the police sirens. The boy's alluring sea-coloured eyes widened in alarm, his gaze darting between me and the distant police car approaching us.

"I erm . . . called them so they could help you . . . " I trailed off and gave him a helpless look.

The boy's thick eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he ran away with all his might, leaving my flabbergasted self to deal with the police.

* * *

A/N :

So guys, hope you liked this chapter! I promise it gets better further lmao. 'Ma' will be written as 'Maa' throughout the book. Also, JJ calls Jamal 'Jamie,' it's just a nickname. This book will be messy, but by the end, everything ties together. Feel free to leave your constructive views and opinions.

[Link for suicide hotline: https://en\.m\.wikipedia\.org/wiki/List\_of\_suicide\_crisis\_lines]

Please please ask for help when you're in a difficult situation. There are people who care about you and love you even if it doesn't seem like that now. You will get better, you all deserve to be healthy and happy. I know it's easy for me to simply leave a note here, but I insist that you reach out whenever you're feeling hopeless. And I wish you all the best <3

"Good morning, Uncle Desmond!" I greeted cheerfully with my usual smile. "Lilies for your wife?"

"Aye, JJ," he said warmly with a grin that highlighted his wrinkles.

I handed over the silver-packed lilies to him which every day he religiously presented to his wife. Thirty years of zealous marriage and each day he brought flowers to his wife without fail. If I ever had a chance to fall in love with someone, I would have liked a love story like Uncle Desmond's. Keyword: If.

The bells chimed as one after another regular customer poured in to collect their flowers. Some for the church, some for their wives, mothers, and sisters, some for decorating their houses, offices, and stores while some just perused through the bunches of dainty flowers, enjoying the fragrance and freshness of morning bliss.

At noon, Grandpa drove the truck filled with a stock of spry, exotic flowers and unloaded them in the shop. Many summer weddings were coming up which meant more business. It astonished me on how much people spent on flowers during exquisite weddings. Grandpa and I, sometimes even Shaun were the only ones running our radiant, little flower shop.

I was aligning the flowers in the last row when the bells chimed and I turned around. My eyebrows rose up when the familiar boy from the bride walked in, cracking his knuckles and looking around nervously.

"Good afternoon, boy! What brings you here?" I asked blithely and his forehead creased in slight confusion as he scowled.

It had been over a week since that incident happened at the bridge and ever since then, I had been thinking about him. Although it was a small town and I knew almost everybody, I knew nothing about this boy. Who was he? Why was he here? Maybe to thank me, I could only assume.

"Have you come here to buy flowers?" I asked curiously and he nodded faintly, his gaze flickering to the variety of flowers and finally settling on the bunch of basic, red roses. "You want the roses?"

He ran a hand through his hair and reluctantly lifted his other hand to show four long fingers, indicating that he wanted four roses.

"Alright," I mumbled while picking up four roses and placing them on the countertop. "Last time I saw you, let's just say you weren't in your best condition, but hope you're doing well now."

He nodded again and then strangely looked outside the glass door.

A few minutes passed. I finally cleared my throat to seek his attention and questioned, "Are you buying the roses or not?"

The boy awkwardly tugged at the edges of the full sleeves of his sky-blue coloured shirt and I observed his actions closely. He seemed so surreal wearing a stiff shirt in summer and just looked out of place as an outcast. A social pariah, that was what he probably was, but I could care less.

Suddenly, his hands grasped the thorny stems of the roses tightly and he dashed outside the door. It took a few minutes for the incident to sink in my thick head. I stood there absolutely dumbfounded like an idiot.

"Hey! W-What even . . . Wait! You haven't paid for this!" I shouted, but to no avail because the boy was already running.

I scuttled outside the door and climbed on my bicycle to catch him. This was the first-ever robbery incident that happened at the shop and I was appalled. I couldn't let that boy get away with this easily, especially when I was the one who helped him to understand and not jump off the bridge. How dare he repay me like this!

He was running pretty quick and it was getting difficult to catch him even on my bicycle. Furiously, I pedalled after him on the streets which were always deserted in the afternoon due to the scorching heat. Suddenly, I felt nausea overwhelming me, suffocation and heaviness dawning on me. I couldn't breathe properly because of over-exerting myself. My vision turned obscure as I forcefully pushed the pedals.

I felt dizzy when I fell off the bicycle and moaned. The bicycle was leaning against me as I struggled to shove it away. My throat was dry and I licked my lips, I needed water. I shook my head frantically, trying desperately to regain consciousness, but the crushing weight of the bicycle and the heat of the blistering sun made it impossible for me to recuperate quickly.

I felt someone throw the bicycle away and a silhouette of a tall figure hovering over me. I blinked rapidly, my eyes squinting to see who the person was-who was kind enough to help me. Something clicked in me that it was the boy who stole the flowers and when he tried to pick me up, I weakly protested.

I heard him grouch something under his breath, but I couldn't decipher what. His words sounded like gibberish to me as a foreign language. His slender fingers grabbed my arm tightly as he lifted me up and dragged me towards the nearby tree. He released me and I sat below the gaunt shadow of the large tree, leaning tiredly against it.

I rubbed my eyes and vaguely saw him walking inside a butcher shop nearby, emerging out with a bottle of water. He stretched his hand gripping the bottle of water towards me as I meekly stared at him, my frail hand trying to hold it. He grumbled again which I couldn't comprehend as always and crouched in front of me.

His sea-coloured eyes bore into mine as he unfastened the lid and held my chin firmly, to lift it up and pour water in my mouth through my parted lips. Immediately, I felt at ease when the cold water trickled my throat and my burning eyes cooled down. He kept pouring the liquid, his eyes focused on my lips and I wheezed out when my mouth was filled with excess water, causing the water from my mouth to splatter all over his shirt. He muttered some profanities while I coughed continuously, the water going into my nose and he hesitantly knocked my head, again and again, trying to calm me.

When I felt better, he handed me a bottle of water. I clutched it feebly against my chest and inhaled deeply. He stared at me as I continued to take deep breaths and exhale loudly. Finally, he got up, gazing intensely at me for a few seconds as if understanding that I regained my full consciousness and then turned around to leave.

I quickly sprang to my feet or at least that was what I tried to (but nearly fell down again) and yelled, "You can't get away this easily! I caught you, you-you flower thief!"

He glanced at me from over his shoulder lazily, like he was mocking me. I felt pure rage consuming me and just because he helped my pathetic self, I wouldn't let go of him. Besides, it was because of him that I needed help anyway.

I sidled up beside him as he marched ahead. I instinctively pulled his shirt from behind which made him stop and I heard him take a sharp breath. He had no right to get irritated because if anyone had that right, it should have been me.

"Why did you steal those roses, huh? I could see how nervous you were to steal them, then why did you? Does it give you the cheap thrills or is it fun to be chased by a sick girl?" I demanded and his jaw clenched. "I could see it in you that you didn't want to steal, then why---"

"Because I had to!" he burst out and my eyes widened. I had never heard him speak till now, knowing he was shy by his behaviour so his sudden outburst took me by surprise. He lowered his head so he could look directly into my eyes causing me to flinch and bellowed, "I didn't have any money and when I got to know that you ran the shop, I knew I had to steal. To take an act of childish revenge because nobody asked you to save me that day."

He backed away and my lips were parted in revulsion. I stuttered miserably, "O-Oh well . . . Okay . . . I-I didn't save you, you have to save yourself because you can now jump if that's all you want and I wouldn't be there to stop you! You know that right? I wouldn't be there! It's all you in the end who can save yourself, you-you ungrateful piece of---"

I stopped because I instantly regretted being abrasive and wanted to take my insensitive words back immediately, but I didn't know how. I was such a horrible person and I didn't intend the words to come out the way it did. I wished my own suffering had made me some spiritual saint-like how I usually saw in books and movies. However, I wasn't even being human by being so reckless . . . I had to be more careful with my words.

Before I could apologise and admit that I did care about him, he stormed away and yelled back, "I will!"

A cold shiver ran down my spine, why the hell did I say that?

* * *

A/N :

None of my characters are perfect and you'll see some character development as you read ahead. Choose your words carefully folks and live a non-regretful life xoxo.

I was sprinkling water on the peonies, daffodils, and tulips to make them look fresh since they wilted very quickly during summer. Only sunflowers seemed glowing as they appeared to respectfully bow their heads towards the rays of the mighty sun.

I saw through the spotless glass door, a familiar tall figure walking briskly with a loping stride outside the shop. From the past week, we always managed to cross paths. Our eyes met today and suddenly, his pace increased like he was almost running, trying his best to avoid me.

"Hey, flower thief! Wait!" I shouted to catch his attention while hurrying outside, but he didn't pay any heed and continued to jog ahead. I quickly caught up and grabbed his arm. I was panting heavily and breathed, "I-I want to talk to you."

He jerked his arm away from my grasp and grunted, "What?"

"Erm . . . Sorry for what happened the other day. I shouldn't have yelled at you, I'm so very sorry . . . " I trailed off and then confessed in a low voice, "I was kind of worried about you."

His expressions softened and I noticed his dimples disappearing which faintly appeared when he was peeved. I wondered if his dimples deepened when he smiled, but my imagination was very limited considering how he always sulked.

Although he was the one who should have been apologising for stealing flowers, it was my fault. The repentance of my actions was gnawing me in the inside. I should have been sensitive since he clearly was not in his best mental health and what if my words had triggered him? What if he had actually jumped after listening to my venomous rambling? I felt extremely guilty and I would have been responsible if he had actually committed suicide. I had unknowingly enacted a crime- gave the incentive to die.

How much more detestable could I be?

"Can we start fresh?" I tried to put up a saccharine smile, but I knew that he could see right through me and he just nodded. "Alright, er-cool. But before starting new, I want to know why you stole those roses? I want to trust you enough, so please tell me the truth. The real reason."

His nostrils flared in annoyance and he grumbled, "I had lost my job, wanted to take my heinous, little revenge and couldn't waste money on something as petty as flowers. That's the truth."

'But why four roses?' was just at the tip of my tongue, but I chose to remain silent, afraid that I would infuriate him further.

"You lost your job?" I dug in my pocket and he gritted his teeth. I retrieved my shop's pamphlet and waved it in front of him. "See, we're looking for someone to help at the shop. You can take up this job if my grandpa approves of you . . . The pay is good and work is less, mostly while my grandpa's away to bring stocks of flowers from the market or watering and plucking sunflowers from our little farm."

"What makes you think that I'll work at your shop?"

"Because you're desperate," I stated nonchalantly and his lips pursed into a thin line. "You don't have any money and lost your job, probably at the departmental store down the lane which hires mostly teenagers. Having no money even drove you to steal something 'as petty as flowers,' your own words, not mine. So, that makes you desperate."

I could actually feel his pride crumbling within him, but he tried not to show it and snatched the pamphlet from my hands. I smirked inwardly and he quietly scanned the information, ignoring my lingering gaze on him. Then his piercing sea-coloured eyes met mine, he snapped, "Where's your grandpa?"

"He'll come by in some time, you can sit inside the shop till then," I offered smugly and walked towards the shop where he grudgingly followed me.

"Just so you know, I'm not working for you. I'm working for your grandpa," he muttered behind me and I scoffed.

"Whatever. You'll get this job only when you promise me that you won't steal flowers again. Promise?"

He didn't say anything and before I could insist further, he forced the words out, "Yeah that."

"Alrighty," I said feigning cheerfulness and pulled open the door of our shop. He followed close behind me as I entered. I pushed a chair towards him, indicating him to sit down. Half an hour went by quietly without him uttering a single word and drumming his fingers softly on the countertop, while I tended to a few customers and then fed my pet worm with dried leaves and flowers.

"You want to feed him?" I asked, the worm crawling on my finger and I extended my hand. Immediately, the flower thief shrank back and I grinned. "You're afraid of little Fred, aren't you?"

"Fred?"

"Ah, he's called Fred. His full name is Alfred González because I like to think that he's Spanish," I explained briefly and he swallowed.

"He's a worm," he spat out and his nose scrunched up when he saw Fred crawling higher up on my arm. "You sell flowers and breed worms? It'll chew all the fresh flowers."

"I don't breed worms. I just take care of Fred, genius. He's so green that he was camouflaged with the leaves of the sunflower. He's one of a kind, do you want to touch him? Look, how fat, slimy and squishy he is." I took Fred on the tip of my finger and brought him closer to the flower thief who visibly shuddered.

"Seriously, if you put that-that thing on me, I'll kill it," he threatened and swiftly got up from the chair, backing away from Fred.

"You murderer, look at Fred! He looks so sad!"

"You're mad, cancer has gotten in your brain," he stated in a low voice and I knew that he didn't mean it in an offending way. He ran a hand through his dark hair and said, "Where's your grandpa? I've come here for a job interview, not to play with that thing."

I ignored him and cooed quietly to Fred, saying that he would always be important to me when my grandpa barged in through the door. He removed his cap and wiped his sweat with the back of his sleeve. His eyes then darted between the flower thief and me. The flower thief awkwardly tugged at his full sleeves, a habit of his when he was nervous, I assumed.

"Who's this skinny boy?" my grandpa asked tartly and now I knew that I had to deal with two grumpy male species.

"He's come here looking for a job. I thought you might want to hire him."

"He already looks dead to me, will he put all his efforts and work?" he asked in a mocking tone and I rolled my eyes.

"Grandpa, if you keep turning down all the people then nobody will be working for us! You need to believe a little more--- "

"And what has believing given me, eh?" he cut me off, challenging me. "Lost her to cancer and now you, is there a reason to believe?"

Out of the blue, he brought this topic and I knew exactly why. I didn't even blame him, he had lost his wife that was my grandma to cancer and now me. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I tried to feed him lies and make him believe that I would survive just to keep him going and not make him depressed, but the after-effects of my lies . . . Well, it wasn't good.

He stopped believing completely in anything and everything, even God.

The flower thief cleared his throat and introduced himself confidently, "Sir, I'm Logan Kellerman and I have always worked hard, you can't doubt me. Give me a chance and I'll prove it to you. I will give my all to this. I really will."

"Yes, please give the flower thief . . . erm . . . Logan a chance. You don't need to believe in him yet, but you can give him a chance. The boy really needs a job," I pleaded and Logan glared at me, probably furious for making him look so desperate and helpless for a job which he was though. I walked over to my grandpa and clung at his arm. "Please grandpa . . . Can you do this for me? I haven't got much time left and I barely ask for anything, so please . . . "

His charcoal coloured eyes had lost its tinge of deep blue sparkle over the years as he scanned my pleading expression. His face wrinkled into a defeated scowl.

"Alright, alright, but only for you," he murmured and I threw my arms over his shoulders in triumph.

"Thank,s, grandpa, you're the best!" I beamed and turned to Logan. "Congratulations! You better be worth this fuss!"

I could barely contain my excitement as I clasped my hands together and suppressed a squeal. Logan too seemed astonished and elated but tried to cover it up with a stoic façade. I did feel accountable for manipulating my dear grandpa, but at least I helped the poor boy get to his feet. I swore that I wouldn't use my disease as a way of manipulating people from this day onwards. It made me feel guilty and disgusting.

"Fine now, get to work you lazy dimwits!" my grandpa roared and I smiled, scurrying towards the counter and pulling Logan with me.