Chapter 8

Iris hummed in response and, after expressing her gratitude, calmly completed the discharge procedures for herself. When she got home, Iris sat by the bedside and deleted the photos she had taken with Darius one by one from her phone. The first kiss at the age of sixteen, the fireworks at eighteen, the proposal at twenty-two...her fingertips lingered on the "Confirm Delete" button for a long time, but eventually she clicked on it. The cancellation of social media accounts one by one is like erasing their memories bit by bit. There was a sudden knock on the door. "Iris?" Darius stood outside the door, frowning. "Why can’t I reach you by phone? Why can’t I send you messages?" I have cancelled all my accounts. Iris replied calmly. "Why?" His face was filled with shock. She didn't explain. She just asked indifferently, "What's up?" “Tomorrow is the one-month period that Charlotte and I agreed on." His voice suddenly became gentle, like when he coaxed her in the past, "I should come back to you, but...” He paused, hesitating, “Charlotte made a wish on her birthday, asking me to stay with her for three more days. I agreed. So…” “So?” “I’m flying to Switzerland tomorrow. You’ve always wanted to see snow, right? I’ll take you there, then back to pick you up in three days. Is that okay?” Iris suddenly smiled. How ironic fate was. She was going to Switzerland for euthanasia, and the one sending her on this path to death was none other than Darius. “Okay.” Darius was stunned; he hadn't expected her to agree so readily. An unusual feeling welled up in his heart again, but he suppressed his unease: “I'll come pick you up tomorrow.” That night, Iris stared at the moonlight outside the window and couldn't sleep all night. The next morning, Darius arrived at the door on time. He was wearing a neat pilot's uniform, his shoulder patches shimmering in the morning light. “Let's go.” He reached out to take Iris’s luggage, but pulled his hand back sharply the moment he touched her fingers. “Why are they so cold?” Iris didn’t respond, then silently following him into the car. In the cabin, his voice came over the intercom: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain, Darius. I wish you all a pleasant stay in Switzerland…” The voice that once made her heart race now sounded so distant. During the ten-hour flight, Iris stared out the window at the sea of clouds, layer upon layer of white clouds, reminiscent of the cherry blossoms he had taken her to see in their youth. “We’re here.” As they disembarked, he adjusted her scarf. “I’ll pick you up in three days. Wait for me.” “Darius.” Iris suddenly called him by his full name. “I can’t wait for you anymore.” He froze: “What?” “Nothing.” Iris smiled, “Have a safe journey.” Watching his hurriedly departing figure, Iris turned and walked toward the pre-arranged facility. “Miss Iris?” The staff handed her a document, “This is the final confirmation.” Iris signed her name and heard her ask, “Do you have any last words to leave?” "Someone will come to pick me up in three days.” Iris gazed out the window at the snow, “Please tell him—" “If I could do it all over again at eighteen years old, Iris wouldn't have agreed to Darius' confession under the cherry blossom tree.” As the needle entered her vein, she seemed to see the eighteen-year-old boy standing under the cherry blossom tree, his eyes red as he reached out to her: “Don't forgive him...” She smiled and closed her eyes, never to wake again.