Chapter 6: Letting Go of Forever

My heart finally settled. I wanted to smile, but couldn’t. A tear slid down my face—like the despair deep within my soul. I was empty.

The city lights blurred outside the hospital window. I realized then that love isn’t about tests or angels. It’s about holding on, even when it hurts. Maybe that’s enough.

Lily Hart – Extra

My name is Lily Hart. You probably don’t know me. I was Autumn’s roommate and best friend—but I secretly loved Ethan Maddox. I witnessed their sweet love, happy for them. When Autumn died of cancer, I saw Ethan’s collapse and felt deep sorrow.

We shared a tiny apartment in grad school, eating ramen noodles and laughing over bad reality TV. I envied their happiness, but I never let it show.

Then, one night, I dreamed of an angel. He said he could bring Autumn back, for a small price. He was testing Ethan: if Autumn became someone else entirely, would he still love her? I was to be the decoy. He would give me Autumn’s face but take my voice. My job was to be a perfect mute substitute by Ethan’s side. If I ever hinted at the truth, both of us would vanish.

I agreed. I was willing to become a substitute, as long as Autumn could return.

The angel’s eyes were kind, but I saw the burden he carried. I told myself it was worth it. For Autumn, for Ethan, for the chance to make things right.

Before I lost my voice, I asked the angel: “What if Ethan fails?” He replied, “If you wish to continue comforting him, when you find you can speak, tell him you are Autumn. If not, reveal the truth and return to your own life.”

His answer was vague, but I clung to it. I hoped I’d know what to do when the time came.

I endured five years of his love—painful, because I knew why he cared for me. When I could speak again, I realized: Ethan had failed. Seeing Savannah dying, I understood she was Autumn. If Ethan knew, he would break. So, with tears in my eyes, I said: “Ethan, I am Autumn. I’m back.” It was a lie, but I told it anyway.

The words tasted like ashes. I wanted to comfort him, to give him hope, but all I felt was sorrow. I would carry this secret for the rest of my life.

I must bear all these secrets, imitating another, until the end.

Sometimes, late at night, I look at Ethan sleeping and wonder if he senses the truth. Maybe, in his dreams, he remembers the girl he lost. Maybe that’s enough. I wish I could be her.

The Angel

After Autumn died, she asked me: “I lost. Will I vanish now? Can’t you show mercy, for the good I did before I died? I saved two lives, after all.”

Her voice was soft, pleading. I felt the weight of her hope, her grief, her love. It was more than most souls ever carried. She deserved better.

I looked at her and smiled. As my body faded, I said, “When someone makes you believe in love, you can move on.”

I watched her face, saw the understanding dawn. It was bittersweet, knowing I could finally let go.

Yes, I lied to everyone. I’m not really an angel—just an ordinary soul, burdened with a mission. Only when someone makes me believe in love can I move on.

I’d spent lifetimes searching for proof, for something to restore my faith. In Autumn, Ethan, and Lily, I found pieces of what I’d lost.

I saw love in Autumn, Ethan, and Lily: Autumn’s letting go, Ethan’s persistence, Lily’s selfless devotion.

Love is messy, complicated, imperfect. But in their brokenness, I found hope.

What is love? Love is like Schrödinger’s cat. Until you open the box, you never know if the cat is alive or dead. In love, you can only believe what you choose. If you believe the cat is alive, then it is; if you believe it’s dead, then it is. Foolish people, foolish love—yet people always come, trying to see for themselves.

It’s the trying that matters. The hope, the risk, the leap into the unknown. That’s what makes us human.

There are all kinds of people in this world. I believe Autumn will meet someone who makes her believe in love. Then, she can be like me—free to move on.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time the maple tree blooms, she’ll be there to see it. I hope so.