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Lucy moved through the dark corridors of Westview Hospital, her footsteps echoing too loudly in the silence. A shriek cut through the air. She froze. Then followed it. The sound bounced off the walls, distant, distorted—wrong. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Not until it was too late.
Something slammed into her from behind, sending her crashing onto the wet floor. Pain exploded through her shoulder.
Lucy twisted, trying to push herself up—but a hand grabbed her, too strong, shoving her back down. Her head hit the ground. Her vision blurred, lights smearing into nothing. She fought back, kicking, twisting, refusing to go still. She was not going down like this. Lucy Chen was a fighter.
Then something cold pressed into her side, and suddenly, it wasn’t just a fight anymore. For a second, she did not understand; something warm spread through her side, and then a sharp pain followed. Her pulse echoed in her ears like thunder, loud and uneven, almost drowning out everything else. Still, she pushed through it, swinging a few punches at the man’s face, but it only made him more aggressive.
Before she could react, he lunged again, and pain shot through her leg, forcing a scream out of her that echoed through the empty hallway. Her vision blurred, but she refused to stop. With shaking hands, she slowly pulled the knife out from her side, her breath hitching as the pain intensified.
While he was still focused on her, she forced herself up—awkward, unsteady—and without thinking too much, drove the knife forward into his neck. In a heartbeat, everything fell silent.
The man went still, his eyes fixed and unmoving, and that was enough for her to know he was dead. Lucy wasn’t in much better condition. The only difference between them was that she was still alive. Her whole body ached with a blinding kind of pain, the kind that made it hard to think straight, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Her breaths turned shallow as she pressed her hand against her abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought of being infected crossed her, but there was nothing she could do about that now.
Instead, she held onto one thing—Tim would come. He would find her. She just had to hold on until then.
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Tim, by now, had reached the Westview Hospital. He asked where Lucy and Celina were and entered the building.
He walked through the dark hallways, shouting Lucy’s name, but her voice was unheard. A part of him started to panic, but he knew it wouldn't do any good, so he kept his calm and went forward. Lucy could hear footsteps approaching, which gave her hope that it was Tim and he came to rescue her. When she heard Tim call out her name again, she weakly responded, “I am here!”
Soon Tim came and saw her on the ground, bleeding out. His eyes widened seeing the scene. His beau, his beloved, his sergeant, bleeding everywhere, and soon his eyes fell on the dead man, but he couldn’t care less. His only focus and worry was on Lucy. He kneeled down and put a hand on her side abdomen. Lucy’s pulse was weakening, and her breath was shaky. He called an RA inside the building; when they arrived, he knew that they were 15 minutes out. But at this time, one minute could mean the difference between life and death.
He said, “Lucy, baby, you just have to hold on for a few minutes. The paramedics will be here soon. Please, baby, be strong for me, okay?”
Lucy tried to reply faintly as she was running out of breath, “Tim, every—everything h-hu-rts.”
“I know,” he said, softer this time. “Baby, just hold on, everything will be alright.”
Tim adjusted his hold, pressing harder against the wound. “You’re okay,” he said, like it was a fact. “You hear me? You’re okay.”
Lucy watched him, her gaze unfocused but fixed on his face. “You always… say that…”
“Because it’s true.” But this time his tone sounded a bit unconvincing.
“I knew you would come,” she replied.
“Yeah, always.”
“Tim… don’t cry when I die.”
“LUCY! No, you won’t die, Lucy. You can’t. One day we will get married, have kids, watch them grow. We have a lot of things to do together, Lucy. You won’t die. You are strong enough. Just hold on. Please, my baby, please. I love you so much. This is not how our story will end.”
“I love you,” Lucy muttered in a shaky breath, only loud enough for Tim to hear.
Tim swallowed hard, pushing everything else aside. “Hey, no, stay with me. Just a little longer, alright? Help’s coming.”
Lucy nodded faintly, though it didn’t look convincing. Her eyes were getting heavier now, blinking slower each time.
Tim noticed. Of course he did.
“Lucy.” His voice dropped, firmer. “Stay. With. Me.”
She tried. She really did.
But even as she looked at him, like she was trying to hold onto his face, her strength was slipping.
And for the first time—
Tim looked like he knew it.
“Lucy.”
No response.
His hand came up to her face, tapping lightly, then firmer. “Hey, no, no, look at me. Come on.”
Her head tilted slightly with the motion, but her eyes didn’t focus anymore.
“Lucy.”
This time, his voice wasn’t steady. Not even close.
“Lucy, stay with me—don’t do this.”
But she already had.
Tim didn’t stop.
“Lucy—no, no, no…”
His hands moved, one still pressed against her side, the other gripping her shoulder like he could pull her back if he just tried hard enough. “Hey, come on, you’re fine. You’re fine. Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Chen.”
It came out sharper this time. Closer to an order. Still nothing.
For a second, everything around him seemed to fade—the corridor, the noise, the distant sirens—like the world had narrowed down to just this moment, just her.
His hand moved to her face again, not rough this time—careful, like she might still feel it.
“Lucy… hey.”
But she didn’t react.
Tim swallowed hard, his breath uneven now, like it didn’t quite know how to work anymore.
“You don’t get to do that,” he muttered, the words breaking as they came out. “You don’t just—leave it like that.”
His gaze dropped for a second, taking in the stillness, the way her hand had fallen away from him completely.
Footsteps rushed in again, voices cutting through the silence.
“Officer down!”
“Move—move—”
Hands reached for him, trying to pull him back.
“Sir, we need space—”
“I’ve got her,” Tim snapped, his voice low but sharp enough to stop them for half a second.
They didn’t argue long. They couldn’t. More hands, firmer this time, pulling him away whether he wanted it or not.
And this time—
he didn’t fight it.
Not really.
He let them move him back, just enough for them to take over. But his eyes never left her.
Never even blinked.
They worked fast. Too fast. Then suddenly—
they stopped.
A look passed between them. Quiet. Final. Tim saw it. Of course he did.
Something in him went completely still. The hallway filled again—noise, movement, voices—but none of it reached him anymore. Because right there, in front of him—
Lucy Chen, who fought through everything, who never gave up—
wasn’t moving anymore.
And this time, no matter how many times he said her name—
she wasn’t coming back.
Something in Tim snapped.
“No.”
This time, it came out sharper. One of the paramedics reached for Lucy again, starting to cover her, to move her—Tim’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could even think.
“Don’t.”
The word came out low. Dangerous. The paramedic froze for a second. “Sir, we need to—”
“I said don’t touch her.”
Tim’s grip tightened, not enough to hurt—but enough to make it clear he wasn’t asking. His other hand was still near Lucy, hovering like he couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go.
For a moment, no one moved. The hallway, which had been full of noise seconds ago, went tense.
“Officer,” someone tried again, more careful this time, “we have to—”
“No.”
This time it wasn’t controlled at all. Tim pulled back, running a hand through his hair, pacing once, then stopping right back beside her. “She’s fine,” he said, like it was obvious. Like everyone else was just missing it. “She’s—she’s been through worse than this. You just—do something.”
No one answered. Because there was nothing to say.
Tim looked at them, waiting—actually waiting—for someone to move, to fix it, to prove him right. When they didn’t—
his expression shifted. Not anger. Something worse.
“You’re just standing there?” his voice rose, rough, breaking at the edges. “Do your job!”
No one moved. Because they already had.
Tim’s gaze snapped back to Lucy, like maybe if he just focused hard enough, she’d move. Breathe. Something.
“Lucy,” he said again, quieter now, almost like he was testing it.
Nothing.
His hand hovered, then finally—finally—he let it rest against her shoulder, shaking her just slightly.
“Hey.”
Still nothing.
His forehead dropped forward, resting briefly against hers, like he didn’t even realise he was doing it. For a second, he just stayed there. Then he pulled back abruptly, like he couldn’t handle it, pacing again, faster this time, hands clenching and unclenching like he needed to hit something, break something—do something. But there was nothing left to do. And that was the worst part.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Tim entered his house—the house that was theirs, the one where they had promised to spend the rest of their lives together. It had seen everything: their life, their fights, their love, their everything. Now it felt too quiet, too still, like even the walls already knew what had been lost. By now, Tim was too exhausted to even be angry. Angry at the world, angry at life—angry that it was Lucy and not him. She shouldn’t have been the one to die. Lucy was the best thing that had ever happened to his miserable life, and now even that had been taken from him—his will to live, his happiness, his sunshine, his yellow.
He dropped his bag without looking and sat down on the couch. His eyes fell on a picture of them—Lucy and him, smiling like nothing could ever go wrong. Disneyland. Their first road trip.
He remembered it clearly, Lucy begging him to wear a Prince Charming costume so they could get a picture together—her as Cinderella, him as the prince. He had given in, because it was her. Tim would give everything up to live that moment once again, to be with his Lucy once again.
Tim looked away, his gaze drifting across the room without really seeing—until it stopped.
The drawer.
Slowly, he got up and walked over, pulling it open with more care than necessary. Inside, beneath a few scattered things, lay the case.
Split Second Leadership.
He picked it up, his fingers brushing over it like it might disappear if he wasn’t careful.
He remembered when she recorded the whole book when she learned that he was a kinesthetic learner. She was an empath from day one. But this gesture—wasting so much time and energy of her life so that her hardass TO (who made her life hell) could learn better and ace the exam—that, that was something that made Lucy Chen, Lucy Chen.
Tim loved her for her care for people, her empathy, her kindness—but now he only had this audiobook to hold on to as the closest memory of her.
Tim swallowed hard, put his headphones on, and started playing the cassette. After a pause, he heard her voice—a voice so sweet, so angelic.
Tim froze.
“Split Second Leadership: Leading Men in the Line of Duty, the audiobook read by the best rookie you ever trained…”
For a second, it felt like the world had shifted back into place. Like she was still here, still talking, still somewhere just out of sight.
His hand stayed on the edge of the table, gripping it tightly. He didn’t move. Didn’t even dare to. He just listened. Every word. Every pause. Every small detail in her voice he had never paid attention to before.
Slowly and steadily, Tim Bradford lost his composure and started to cry. His violent sobs filled the room. This audiobook was the only thing that would bring a part of her to him. He remembered all the times he was annoyed by her yapping, but now he would kill to hear her talk—talk endlessly—and he would listen, listen to every word of it.
Memories of Lucy flooded Tim’s mind. Memories he couldn’t relive anymore.
The only place Lucy Chen was alive in this world was in Tim’s heart.
Tim sat there for a long time, Lucy’s voice still playing softly through the headphones.
The room was quiet, too quiet, but her voice filled it just enough to make it hurt more.
He didn’t cry anymore. He couldn’t. There was nothing left in him.
At some point, exhaustion took over. After everything—the pain, the loss, the emptiness—his body just gave in.
Still wearing the headphones, still listening to her voice, Tim slowly drifted off to sleep.
It was quiet. Peaceful in a way nothing else had been since she was gone.
His breathing evened out, steady and calm.
And then, sometime in that silence—
it stopped.
No struggle. No pain.
Just a heart that had nothing left to hold onto.
And finally, it let go.
And all of Tim Bradford, that was left in this world was his legacy. He passed away from this world because there was nothing to live for, no one to live for anymore.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It wasn’t the pain that woke him. It was the quiet—soft, warm, nothing like the silence he had been drowning in.
Tim opened his eyes slowly, expecting emptiness, but instead he heard it—
“Tim?”
—and his breath caught before he even turned. He knew that voice.
When he did turn, she was there. Lucy. Not broken, not fading, just… her, standing like she had always been there.
For a second, he couldn’t move, like any step might make her disappear again.
“…Lucy?” he said, barely a whisper.
She smiled, soft and familiar.
“Took you long enough.”
And that was it.
He closed the distance in seconds, pulling her into him, holding on like he never would again—but this time she stayed, warm and real in his arms.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmured, his voice breaking.
“You didn’t,” she said quietly. After a small pause, “I was waiting.”
His grip tightened, something in him finally settling, and when he pulled back just enough to look at her, to make sure she was really there, he understood—
she wasn’t going anywhere.
Not this time.
So he held her again.
And this time, he didn’t have to let go.
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EPILOGUE
Some people don’t come to you in a big moment. They come quietly and transform your life altogether. Lucy Chen was that one for Tim.
She was the light in the places of Tim’s life that he didn’t know were dark. She was the one who hadn’t given up on him when he gave up on himself. She was his everything, and he was her everything.
Tim and Lucy were never just about love. They were about finding a home in another person, and even after death did them apart, somehow—they still found their way back to each other.