When I Close My Eyes Novel by Olivia Black _ Novel




When I Close My Eyes Chapter 01

Three years after Tyrell Cranston and I broke up, we ran into each other on a street in Norway.
"It's been a while," he said. "I'm here on my honeymoon. How about you?"
His tone was completely casual, his expression just as gentle as I remembered.
I pulled my winter coat tighter around myself to hide my hospital gown, forcing a smile even as tears pricked my eyes.
"What a coincidence," I said. "I am too."
***
"Ms. Ashcroft, the Serenity Care Center has approved your request for terminal sedation.
"Once the injection is administered, you'll drift off to sleep and won't wake again."
I swallowed hard, choking down the painkillers the doctor had just handed me.
"Thank you."
Jasper Campbell, my blond, blue-eyed attending physician, let out a soft sigh as he reached over to swap out my IV bag.
"Do you have any final requests before the procedure?" he asked. "I'll do everything I can to make them happen."
I looked down at the familiar, blurry photo of Tyrell on my phone's lock screen. When I spoke, my voice came out raspy.
"I want my ex-boyfriend, Tyrell Cranston, to administer the sedative. He's an excellent physician with Doctors Without Borders, just like you."
Jasper jotted down the name and gave a small nod.
"Alright. I'll do whatever I can to get ahold of him and bring him to Norway."
Just as Jasper turned toward the door, I called after him.
"Please, don't tell him my name. I don't want him to know it's me—not looking like this."
After he left, I sat alone in the quiet hospital room, staring blankly ahead.
Outside, the winter snow fell slowly, piling in a bright, white layer across the windowsill.
I pictured Tyrell again, remembering his tall, handsome frame in his white coat.
Ten years ago, I'd come to Norway to study. When I met Tyrell—a fellow American in a foreign country—it gave me an overwhelming sense of comfort and familiarity.
People always said love at first sight was really just physical attraction, and honestly? That was true for me.
From the second I saw him, the pull was intense; my heart raced, and I fell for him on the spot.
At eighteen, my love for him was fierce and completely genuine. Trying to win him over, I wrote him poems, brought him late-night snacks, and camped out in line all night just to buy a collector's edition of his favorite medical textbook.
I chased him for exactly a year and nine months before he finally gave me an answer.
"I don't have feelings for you right now," he'd said, "but I'm willing to give dating a shot."
True to his word, he put in the work.
He went with me to see the blue ice at the Jostedal Glacier, and we walked hand-in-hand along the Oslofjord.
He took me to Tromsø and kissed me under the Northern Lights.
He even gave up his job in Norway and moved back to the States with me so I could finish my degree.
I genuinely believed we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.
But right after our fifth anniversary, Tyrell broke up with me.
"Lena, I'm sorry," he told me. "It's been five years, and I still don't love you.
"We need to end this. I don't want to waste your time anymore."
After that day, he cut off all contact. And I never heard from him again.
It felt like our five years together meant absolutely nothing, vanishing in an instant.
I asked our mutual friends about him, but no one knew where he'd gone.
Then, just three days after the split, I was diagnosed with a malignant tumor.
I tried everything I could to survive, but the daily chemo treatments kept failing, leaving me more and more hopeless.
I didn't want to die. I just wanted to see Tyrell.
He was a doctor; I kept clinging to the desperate hope that maybe he could cure me.
But I couldn't find him anywhere.
Eventually, I transferred back to a hospital in Norway to continue my treatments, holding out hope that I might run into him again.
Three full years passed, and I never saw him.
My thoughts broke when Anya Herrera, my nurse and friend, came in to change my meds.
Catching me staring out the window, she gently draped a cashmere coat over my shoulders.
"Lena, Jasper said your terminal sedation is scheduled for next week," she murmured. "You should try to get out and walk around a bit over the next few days."
I shook my head slightly. "I've already seen all of Norway. There's nothing out there I want to look at."
And there's no one out there I want to see.
Anya knew how completely hung up I was on him, and she gave me a look of deep sympathy.
"Lena," she said, "you've got to stop shutting everyone else out.
"What is it about Tyrell that makes him so unforgettable after all these years?"
Tears pricked my eyes, but just thinking about him still filled me with a lingering fondness.
"He's perfect in every way," I replied. "He just doesn't love me."
He'd only been in my life for a little while and hadn't left anything tangible behind, but the memory of him was carved deep into my mind.
Having met someone that extraordinary when I was young, no one else ever really measured up—especially now that I was so severely ill.
Anya sighed and dropped it.
"There's a special Christmas market on Karl Johans gate. Let's go after dinner. The loving Lord will give you strength. Amen."
I didn't say no.
Being this close to the end of my life, I figured maybe God would grant me a little special treatment.
By nightfall, the Christmas market on Karl Johans gate was glowing with colorful lights.
The stalls lining the avenue were packed with frosted apples, mulled wine, and holiday treats.
I made my way slowly through the crowd, heading toward the giant tree in the center of it all.
Suddenly, washed in the multicolored lights, I spotted an American guy in a black trench coat walking my way, holding a young woman's hand.
I froze the second I saw him.
It was Tyrell. I hadn't seen him in three years.

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