Charlotte’s POV

Charlie was back from his treatment, I knew that as I had heard the sound of his automobile and I flew down the stairs to meet him.

The light was on in his bedroom and I walked in. He was sleeping, but that wasn’t what struck out at me.

It was how horrible he looked. He seemed to have aged two decades in the time he was gone, and he had these horrible blisters everywhere. He had a bandage near his left cheek, and I couldn’t help but gasp as I saw him. I had spoken to him over the phone, but the video did not do his condition justice.

Was this my fault? This was a side effect of the treatment, but had he only taken it for my sake? So that he could endure longer to be with me, even if it was just one more day, even at this expense? If I had known, I would’ve never asked him to-

“-Charlotte,” he said, waking up, perhaps from the sound of me gasping. Even his voice sounded tired, as if just speaking was painful for him. Come to think of it, that skin reaction had also affected the inside of his mouth, or so he had told me.

I wanted to break down then and there at the very thought, but instead, I tried my best to smile.

“Charlie, how are you?”

“I’m… I can’t say fine,” he said. “It’s hard for me to even get up or walk right now, Charlotte. But before anything else, can you please come closer?”

“Of course,” I said, walking towards him.

“Charlotte, please do not hate me for this,” he said. “I have one last thing to ask you…”

“I could never hate you!”

“But, if I must go, and I’ve made peace with that, I wanted to go back to my parent’s,” he said.

I understood what he was saying. When I was barely able to stand, when I was at my sickest, I had wanted nothing more than my mother to be there at my side. I was his wife now, but I was not selfish enough to demand he stay here just so that I could take care of him. So that I could be with him when he passed - no, his comfort took precedence over everything else. “Charlie, of course you can go. Just… please take me with you. Let me watch over you, I can do that from your parent’s house, can’t I?”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

He smiled at me. “I just want to know one thing, Charlotte, is that truly an existence that you would accept? I don’t know if there would be someone to bring you back here.”

“Yes,” I told him. “Even if no one can take me back here, to this house, and I’ll be nothing more than a ghost trapped in a doll for the rest of eternity, it would be a price I’d gladly pay if only it meant that I could be near you in your final moments.”

“Then, I know what it is that I have to do,” he told me. There was a renewed vigor in his voice. “Charlotte, I’m sorry, but you can’t come with me.”

“But why-”

“Because I’ve found it,” he said. “I think I know what happened to you, Charlotte. And I want you to be in this house when I pass away.”

My eyes widened as I understood what he was getting at. “Charlie, you musn’t-”

He held up a hand. “I know what I’m doing. Your answer was enough - that you would accept that kind of life just to be with me, the life of a real doll, it’s all I need to know before I do this.”

“Will it even work?”

“I believe it will,” he said. “Now, will you give me a hug goodbye?”

I obliged. This would be the last night we would spend together, as the next day he moved to his parent’s house. He did not even drive himself, calling for a taxi instead.

But, before he had gone, I had heard him rummaging around the house.

Charlie’s POV

Over the next few days, I was given so much pain medication that I was out of it nearly constantly. But it was quite a relief given the blisters were still pretty painful. I messaged Charlotte every night I could though, so she would know that I was still around.

My parents did the best they could, and the home hospice people were nice enough. I think I even remembered Suzy dropping by many days to see me.

The medication messed with my mind quite a bit, and all of these memories seemed to blend together into a mosaic which made little sense.

One night, while I was drowsy, I saw a young woman walk into my room.

She was wearing the same clothes as Charlotte, though she was a bit taller. Like the last time I had been sick, she moved to the head of the bed, and she gently cradled my head in her arms.

I can’t describe what her face looked like, only that it was graced with a gentleness and sincerity that I had not seen on anyone before…

Charlotte’s POV

Charlie messaged me every day. Every single day, I would pray for a miracle - that he would get back on his feet, that he would recover and come back to me and would live to a ripe old age, the illness fading into nothing more than a bad memory.

Then, one day, the messages from Charlie just stopped. Did he forget to write to me? Maybe.

But nothing came the next day either. Or the day after that. Or even the week after that.