My Bursting Fireworks Meet No Gaze Of Admiration

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The night before Gideon planned to propose, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. After scraping together every dollar I had, I was still twenty thousand short for her surgery. Crying, I called Gideon, but the voice that answered sounded like him three years ahead.

Mom got better, didn't she? I sobbed. "You'll save her, right?"

Silence. Then his tone turned ice-cold. "She died. When you asked for money, I refused. Instead, I bought your best friend a thirty-thousand-dollar necklace."

I gripped the phone, my fingers shaking so hard the diagnosis papers crumpled. He laughed, dry and mocking.

"Your best friend came onto me ages ago. I held back for you. But I never thought you'd beg for twenty grand like some gold-digger."

The next evening, Gideon knelt before me, ring in hand, ready to propose. His future self's final words rang in my ears.

"Tomorrow night, I sleep with your best friend for the first time. You could skip the money, but without my help, your mother dies sooner. Your move."

"Will you marry me?" he asked softly.

The moment the words left his mouth, both of our phones vibrated simultaneously.

Mine was a text from the hospital, demanding the outstanding balance.

His was a barrage of incoming WhatsApp notifications, chiming endlessly in the quiet air.

"Who is texting you? Let me see."

Catching the sudden flash of guilt in his eyes, I lunged forward with red eyes, trying to snatch his phone to see the truth for myself.

He scrambled backward to shield the device, but the movement was too slow. I had already caught a glimpse of the text on the screen.

It was from Becca, my childhood best friend.

[I know youre proposing to her tonight. Just give me this one night, okay?]

Dazed, I lost my balance and fell heavily onto the gravel path.

The sharp stones sliced into my palms, and fresh blood immediately welled from the cuts.

Right at that moment, the elaborate fireworks Gideon had prepared for my proposal exploded in the night sky behind him.

The brilliant, colorful lights painted the dark heavens, resembling a grand, mocking joke.

I let out a bitter laugh, reaching up to rip the delicate white veil from my hair.

The blood pooling in my palms stained the pristine white tulle, spreading like crimson winter blossoms across snow.

My tears fell drop by drop, blurring the face of the man I had loved for five years.

"Never mind, Gideon," I whispered, my voice raw and broken. "I won't marry you."

With that, I forced myself up, turned around, and ran in the opposite direction.

He instinctively took a step to chase after me, but the ringing of his phone pulled him back.

Behind me, Gideon's voice drifted through the freezing wind. He didn't sound particularly disappointed.

Instead, his tone carried an unsettling sense of relief.

"Yeah, I was proposing, but she said no."

"Alright, stop crying. I'm coming to see you right now."

At the hospital, I stood behind the cold glass of the ICU, staring at my mother's frail, pain-riddled body.

Illness strikes like a landslide. No one had expected her sudden collapse last night to result in a terminal diagnosis.

"Miss Vance, the deposit you made won't cover the next round of chemotherapy," the nurse said gently. "Please make a payment at the main desk on the first floor."

I clutched the hem of my shirt, pulling out my phone to check my banking app.

My total balance was exactly $4,053.62.

It was not even a fraction of the twenty thousand dollars needed for her long-term treatment.

Under normal circumstances, my savings would have been more than enough.

But half a month ago, Becca had borrowed every single dollar of my hard-earned savings under the pretense of starting a boutique business.

She had held my hands, weeping tears of desperation.

"Hazel, I don't have a wealthy boyfriend like you do. If even you won't help me, my parents will force me to marry that old businessman they picked out!"

Without a second thought, I had transferred the money to her, not even asking for a promissory note.

I never imagined that along with my savings, she would also steal the man I was supposed to marry.

I took a deep breath, dialing Becca's number. The moment I opened my mouth to ask for my money back, a familiar voice drifted through the receiver.

"I'm out of the shower. Who's calling?"

"Just a wrong number..."

Becca cut herself off, and then, as if realizing something, she let out a soft, deliberate giggle.

Her voice rose, dripping with mock innocence.

"Gideon, do you think Hazel rejected your proposal because you didn't offer her a big enough dowry?"

"She did tell me once that as long as the price is right, she doesn't care who she marries!"

I had never said anything of the sort.

But Gideon remained silent on the other end. He didn't defend me, nor did he dispute her words.

Soon, the unmistakable, wet sounds of intimacy echoed through the speaker.

This was exactly what his future self had warned me about, their first night together.

The call ended with a sharp click.

I tried calling back in a frenzy of desperation, but the line remained dead.

I collapsed onto the cold hospital floor, my sobs escaping through my tightly clenched fingers.

As my emotions completely ruptured, a violent wave of nausea hit my stomach.

Clutching a nearby trash can, I threw up until my throat burned.

For the first twenty-five years of my life, my world revolved around only three people: my mother, Becca, and Gideon.

I never imagined that in a single night, I would lose all three of them.

I, who had never begged anyone for anything, spent the next few hours calling every relative and acquaintance I knew.

The responses fell into three categories: they had no money, it was inconvenient, or they sent a token few dollars to appease me.

To raise the funds, I took on three different part-time jobs, doing whatever paid the fastest.

Aside from sleeping and sitting by my mother's bedside, I didn't allow myself a single breath of rest.

During this time, Gideon sent me a single text: [Don't regret this.]

He would probably go to his grave never understanding why I had suddenly transformed into a stranger.

Just as I would never understand how five years of shared love could be dismantled so effortlessly by another woman's whispers.

In contrast, his future self was far more talkative, sending me sporadic messages.

"You don't need to push yourself this hard."

"Even if you work yourself to death, you can't change her outcome. What's the point?"

When I received that text, I was standing under a blazing hundred-degree sun, handing out flyers for five dollars an hour.

I didn't have a single drop of energy left to reply.

That evening, a coworker from my part-time shift asked if I could cover her night shift at a high-end lounge.

"The clients there are incredibly wealthy. The tips from a single table are more than what we make in a month!"

"If my daughter wasn't sick, I would never give up this shift!"

I accepted without hesitation.

But when I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP suite, my eyes locked directly with Gideon's through the hazy, dim lighting.

Sitting curled against his side, her face glowing with triumph, was Becca.

One of Gideon's friends sneered, eyeing my uniform with absolute disdain.

"Well, look at that, Gideon. Isn't that your gold-digging ex-girlfriend who refused your proposal because the price wasn't right?"

"Working as a maid in a place like this? What, looking for another rich guy to parasite off of?"

The room erupted into cruel laughter, with Becca's giggles ringing the loudest.

Now that she had successfully taken my place, she had no intention of playing the sweet friend anymore.

Clinging to Gideons arm, her smugness was unbearable.

"Gideon, Hazel has been desperately short of cash lately. She's asked almost all of our mutual friends for loans."

"Should we help her out a little?"

Gideons eyes remained dark and unreadable. After a long pause, a cold smile played on his lips.

"Sure."

He tapped his leather shoe against the glass table, pointing at a line of high-end, high-proof liquor bottles.

"Ten thousand dollars a bottle. Will you drink?"

He knew about my severe alcohol allergy. He was doing this to humiliate me.

But to his surprise, under the mocking stares of the entire room, I didn't hesitate. I reached out, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, tilted my head, and began to gulp it down.

The burning liquid scorched my throat, and my stomach immediately twisted in agony.

I dug my nails deep into my palms, forcing myself to suppress the urge to vomit.

By the time Gideon realized what was happening and snatched the bottle away, I had already drained more than half of it.

"Hazel, are you out of your mind?!" he roared.

"What is wrong with you? Why do you need money this badly?!"

Under the influence of the alcohol, my eyes stung with tears.

I wanted to tell him how exhausted I was, how terrified I was of losing my mother.

But his future self had already shown me the truth: even if I told this version of Gideon, the outcome would be exactly the same.

I wiped the stray liquor from my chin, holding up my phones payment QR code with a blank face.

"What I drank was worth twelve thousand dollars, right?"

He swore under his breath, authorized the transfer, and pointed at the door, telling me to get out.

The moment I stepped out of the suite, my legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, leaning against the cold wall.

Staring at the notification of the transferred funds on my screen, a weak laugh escaped my lips.

Laughter turned to tears, which flowed freely down my face.

With this money, combined with what I had saved and borrowed, my mothers next treatments were secured.

But right then, a frantic call from the hospital shattered my fleeting relief.

"Miss Vance, your mothers condition has suddenly deteriorated!"

"Please get to the hospital immediately!"

I lost count of how many times I tripped and fell on the dark streets.

By the time I reached the hospital, my knees were bleeding, and I had lost one of my shoes.

But I was still too late.

I didn't get to say goodbye. The doctor simply handed me a cold slip of paper, her death certificate.

I wrapped my arms around my mothers cooling body, weeping until my voice cracked.

"Mom... please don't leave me alone!"

"Take me with you. Please, Im begging you..."

Even the nurses, who were used to the tragedy of the ICU, looked away with red eyes.

"Miss Vance, please accept our condolences," one nurse whispered, handing me a tissue to dry my tears.

In our family, there was an old superstition that a relative's tears must never fall on the face of the deceased. If they did, the departed soul would be unable to find peace, or they might carry their most cherished person with them to the grave.

I wished with all my heart that the superstition was true.

My mother was my only family, the only anchor I had in this world. Now that she was gone, what was the point of my existence?

My phone rang. It was future Gideon.

"Hazel, your mother..."

"Why? Gideon, tell me why!" I screamed into the receiver, letting out every ounce of grief and agony I had bottled up.

"Why is it that no matter what I do, I can't save my mother?!"

"Why is it that when I did absolutely nothing wrong, you and Becca chose to destroy me?!"

"Why did the man I loved for five years end up in bed with my best friend?!"

"Tell me why! Explain it to me!"

An absolute, crushing silence met my screams.

Through the static of the line, I thought I heard the sound of a quiet sob.

Finally, he let out a ragged breath. "I'm sorry."

The rage drained out of me, leaving me completely hollow. I slid down the wall, curling onto the floor.

I had one final question for him.

"Gideon... do you regret it now?"

The future version of him didn't answer.

Instead, he spoke a single, strange sentence. "Hazel, don't look out the window."

But his warning came too late.

The moment the words left his mouth, a brilliant burst of fireworks lit up the night sky outside the window.

One after another, the colorful lights shattered the darkness, turning the night into day.

Two young nurses passed by, their voices filled with envy.

"Young Mr. Gideon ordered those for his new girlfriend! They're going to keep going all night!"

"I'm so jealous. I heard his ex-girlfriend of five years rejected his proposal because she wanted more money. What a gold-digger!"

Ah, I had forgotten. Today was Beccas birthday.

On social media, Becca had posted a picture of herself snuggled in Gideon's arms, surrounded by a mountain of luxury gifts.

[I want money, love, and everything in between, and he hands it to me with a smile, calling me adorable.]

I stared at the screen, a tired smile touching my lips. I liked the post, and then I blocked her account.

A second later, my phone rang. It was Gideon.

"Hazel, do you have any idea that today is Becca's birthday?! Why did you block her?!"

"She's crying her eyes out because of you! Call her and apologize right now!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but a sudden, sharp pain flared in my lower abdomen.

A warm rush of blood trickled down my legs.

My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the floor.

When I woke up, a doctor was standing by my bed with a gentle smile.

"Congratulations, you are two months pregnant."

"But your body is severely malnourished, and your stress levels are far too high. You are experiencing a threatened miscarriage."

I stared at the medical report, reading the words over and over.

Finally, I dialed the future number.

"We... had a child, didn't we?"

The line fell silent again, but this time, I could hear his choked-up weeping clearly.

"I'm sorry, Hazel..."

In the end, even that child hadn't survived.

His voice carried a desperate, breaking plea.

"Abort the pregnancy now, Hazel. Don't let the baby suffer..."

"I'm begging you, please."

After hanging up the phone, I gently placed my hand over my flat stomach.

Even if he hadn't said it, I had no intention of keeping this child.

"I'm so sorry, little one."

"In our next life, please find your way back to me, okay?"

"I promise I won't make you wait long."

If the baby's destiny was already written, if my efforts could change nothing, then it was better to end it before the suffering began.

At least now, before the baby was fully formed, they wouldn't have to experience the pain of this world.

Half an hour later, I was lying on the cold operating table.

The freezing anesthetic entered my veins, but even as my consciousness began to slip, I could still feel the cold instruments scraping inside my body.

Cold sweat soaked my hair and back.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

After the procedure, dragging my aching, hollow body, I went to collect my mothers death certificate.

Once the cremation paperwork was signed, I sat on a bench outside the crematorium, watching the thin plume of white smoke rise from the chimney.

I reached out my hand to catch it, but my fingers closed on empty air.

After much thought, I decided to take my mother's ashes back to our old house. She would be safe there, with me.

But when I reached the front steps, holding the urn close, I found Gideon and Becca waiting for me.

"Where have you been?! I told you to apologize to Becca on the phone! Are you deaf?!"

I didn't even look up.

As I tried to squeeze past them, Gideon grabbed my arm.

He stared at my deathly pale face, a sudden look of shock passing through his eyes.

"Why do you look like this?"

I frowned, trying to wrench my arm free.

Before I could, Becca lunged forward, snatching the urn from my arms.

"Hazel, what's in this pretty jar?"

"Give it back!" I screamed, my voice cracking like shattered glass as I lunged for it.

Everything happened in a blur. Becca shrieked, throwing herself into Gideon's arms, and as she did, she intentionally let go of the urn.

The ceramic jar shattered on the concrete path.

Staring at the fine, grey ash scattering into the wind, something inside me snapped.

I lunged forward, striking Becca across the face with all my remaining strength.

A second later, Gideon shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the ground.

"It's just a jar! Are you out of your mind?!"

The sharp ceramic shards sliced deep into my palms, blood spilling instantly.

But I felt no pain. I scrambled on my knees, desperately trying to scoop my mothers ashes back together with my bleeding hands.

The blood stained the grey dust, turning it a dark, wet crimson. I didn't even notice when Gideon and Becca finally walked away.

That night, clutching a framed photograph of my mother, I swallowed the bottle of sleeping pills I had bought on my way home.

As my eyelids grew impossibly heavy, I heard the soft chiming of the windbell on the porch.

With the last of my strength, I turned my head, and in the doorway, I saw my mother smiling at me.

On the nightstand, my phone screen was still open to the chat with future Gideon.

Thirty minutes ago, I had sent him a final message:

[Thank you for telling me the truth. Its finally over.]

At one in the morning, Gideons phone rang. It was the hospital.

"Hello, is this the family of Hazel Vance? She has swallowed a lethal dose of sleeping pills! We are currently resuscitating her!"

Gideon didn't remember how he made it to the hospital.

His mind was completely blank, running through multiple red lights in a haze of panic.

Only when he saw the resuscitation form with Hazels name on it did his denial finally crumble.

Right then, Hazels phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered it instinctively.

But he never could have dreamed that the voice on the other end would be his own.

Only, it sounded far more weathered, and completely frantic.