The Last Two Hours We Had Novel by ElaraThorne _ Novel




The Last Two Hours We Had Chapter 01
I spent nineteen years with Rickey Alcott.
He'd taken me in off the streets and tended to my every need.
But he was also the man who left me alone in the middle of the night while I was gravely ill—just so he could sign medical consent forms for another woman's surgery.
When Rickey asked for a divorce for the ninth time, I finally said yes.
He crushed out his cigarette and looked up at me.
"Why aren't you complaining to my parents this time?" he asked.
"Are you finally ready to stop loving me?"
That was when it hit me—he had never truly believed me when I said I was going to die.
--
Lillian's POV
The day I was diagnosed with highly aggressive pancreatic cancer was the exact same day Rickey asked for a divorce for the ninth time.
"Lillian, I'm genuinely tired of this," he'd said. "I told you a long time ago that we just aren't compatible—"
I cut him off with a tentative request. "Can you wait just one more month?"
He froze, staring at me in shock.
"What did you say?"
I twisted the hem of my shirt and explained in a whisper, "I'm dying. Can you just stay with me for one more month?"
I searched his face after I spoke.
His eyes flashed with a complicated mix of emotions—disgust, confusion, and suspicion. But there wasn't a single ounce of worry.
He stubbed out his cigarette and scoffed, "What did my mother put you up to this time?
"Faking your death so I'll regret everything and come crawling back? Or pretending you only have a little time left just to get my attention?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He was always so sharp. Why couldn't he see the truth?
I really was dying.
Rickey didn't ask anything else. He just dropped the divorce papers on the table.
"I'll see you outside the courthouse in a month."
Then he got a call from his secretary and hurried back to the office.
I reheated dinner again and again, but he never came home.
While I was waiting for him on the couch, severe cramps suddenly seized my abdomen. The pain was killing me.
I didn't even have the strength to get up for my medication, so I just dug my fingernails hard into my abdomen.
It hurt so much. If only Rickey were here...
But sadly, he wasn't.
I curled up on the couch and eventually drifted off, swallowed by the pain.
When I woke up, Rickey was leaning over me, covering me with a blanket.
His gaze was so gentle.
The last time he had looked at me like that, I had still been a child.
I was the orphan he'd brought home from the streets.
Since puberty, I knew I had feelings for him.
But Rickey only cared about his company—about making money.
Even with his mother, Marina Alcott, constantly trying to push us together, he kept me at arm's length.
When I was nineteen, I took advantage of a night when he was drunk and climbed into his bed.
Rickey lay there, completely still, showing no reaction to what I was doing.
Unwilling to give up, I leaned in, trying to kiss him again.
He didn't pull away, just watching me with calm, steady eyes.
It wasn't until our lips were about to meet that fear finally gripped me.
What if I kissed him and he found me repulsive?
I ended up kneeling over him, crying so hard my entire body trembled.
He sighed and pulled me into his arms.
"Scared already? Where did all that courage go from a minute ago?"
Cradling the back of my neck, Rickey pressed a light kiss to my lips to soothe me.
"You're so clumsy."
I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes, so I just buried my face in his chest and kept crying.
Helpless, he kept kissing me, comforting me.
I couldn't even tell which of us was truly drunk anymore—but I clung to him, insisting we be together.
Later, our secret relationship came to light.
Marina forced Rickey to marry me.
He knelt in the basement for an entire night, but it did nothing to change her mind.
That was the very first time he admitted he regretted taking me in.
The night before we registered our marriage, Rickey patiently laid out the harsh realities of our relationship in complete detail.
"Lily, nothing is more important to me than the company," he said.
"If I ever find a better option, I'll abandon you without hesitation, and you'll hate me for it.
"So, do you still want to marry me?"
His eyes were gentle as he tried to talk me out of it.
I took his outstretched hand anyway.
Slowly, the warmth in his gaze faded—until it turned completely cold.
I used to think that even if I wasn't the woman he loved, I could still stay by his side as his wife until the very end.
All I needed was for him to spare me a fraction of his attention.
But I forgot that a marriage actually took two.
I was the one who wanted to be with him; he didn't need me at all.
It wasn't until I was dying that I finally accepted that reality.
Rickey carried me to the bed. "Don't bother doing things like this anymore," he told me.
"It's completely unnecessary."

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