Until The Last Day (Claire and Lorenzo) novel Chapter 6

Claire’s POV

I waited at the cemetery for three hours.

The drizzle had turned into a fine mist now. The sky too had darkened now.

I checked my phone. No messages. No calls. Lorenzo hadn’t come back.

My hands gripped the wheels of the chair tightly. I was at the verge of my patience and finally, I decided to leave on my own.

For a few seconds, everything went smoothly. The rain hissed against the metal, my wheels gliding faster and faster. Then suddenly they become too fast.

Before I could brake, the wheels slipped. The chair slammed into the guardrail.

When I stopped rolling, blood trickled down my forehead, mixing with the water. My palms were raw, my face stung. The cold water, with the breeze made my breathing struggled. I shaking already.

Lying alone on the ground, unnoticed, I could do nothing but watch the raindrops fall.

The cold made me shiver uncontrollably. I bit my lip to hold back the pain spreading across my body.

But time dragged on painfully slow.

I didn’t know how long I’d been lying there. Just when I thought I would freeze to death, I heard the footsteps.

“Claire!”Lorenzo dropped the umbrella, kneeling beside me, lifting me into his arms. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should’ve come sooner—”

I stared at him, my gaze blank. “If my legs were still healthy,” I whispered, “I might have gotten out of here on my own.”

The words hit him harder than any slap.

He slapped himself hard across the face. he muttered hoarsely. “It’s my fault. All of it. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.”

For the next few days, Lorenzo didn’t leave my side.

He followed me everywhere — from the bedroom to the balcony, from the kitchen to the garden.

If I wanted tea, he made it. If I wanted to sit outside, he brought blankets and cushions.

The air in the house softened, as if time had rolled backward to the days before the accident, — when love still felt effortless, when we still believed forever was real.

But I knew better. Life didn’t offer second chances.

The warmth in his eyes was only guilt burning itself out.His sudden tenderness, a fragile illusion trying to cover the cracks.

I just stared at him silently, counting the days, waiting for the final day to come.

Finally, the my time was coming. Our plane touched down in Switzerland on Christmas Eve.

When we arrived at the hotel, the city was wrapped in gold lights and carols echoed faintly from the streets below. The first snow was supposed to fall tonight — that was what the forecast had promised.

But before we could even unpack, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, frowning, and walked to the balcony to answer it.Ten minutes later, he came back in, the frown still there.

“Claire,” he said, picking up his bag. “Something’s happened at work. I have to go immediately.”

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