Worst Cupid Ever

Raymond and Jane

Five Years Ago

"It has gotten worse lately," Jane said as she tossed Raymond's car keys from palm to palm.

Two hours ago, Jane had called Raymond, weeping over the phone. She had another clash with her mum, and no matter how hard he pressed, she wouldn't share what they argued about.

Raymond had to leave James in charge of their latest project and rush to her house halfway across town. At the door, her mother was about to say something when Jane hurried past her, grabbed his hand and led him to his car. She hadn't even given him the chance to properly say hi.

"Take me to the beach. The less busy one we went to last month."

It was 5 pm already; soon it would be dark. Raymond wanted to argue, but she had turned puffy eyes to the window and wouldn't look at him throughout the ride.

It has gotten worse, alright. Even as they sat in the sand, Jane in his arms as they listened to the waves, Raymond could tell something was off.

"Are you sick again?" Raymond dreaded her answer.

"Again?" Jane chuffed and shook her head. Raymond waited for an additional explanation, but the call of seagulls and the sound of lapping waves were the only things that filled the silence.

"Talk to me. When you get silent, I begin to worry." In moments like this, Ray wondered if he had been foolish to dive first before looking. He blamed that damn personality of his that had since learned maturity within the past two years.

When Raymond met Jane at a housewarming party of a mutual friend—that yellow dress, her bright smile and soft laughter—he had dived in without a second thought. The first three months of their relationship had been intoxicating. She sucked him in, and before he could pull air into his lungs, he was already in over his head with cemented feelings.

Raymond had learned the hard way that being with Jane had two distinct sides. The first was the gentle reassurance that came with having a loving partner. The other side was grim—a harrowing crucible. But this was life, and his eyes had been wide open when he chose Jane. Nobody forced him. Let the punches come; he'd roll with them.

"I think..." Jane paused, now fiddling with the fidget cube attached to his keys. "The painkillers are no longer effective."

"Then get a stronger prescription."

"And after that?" She twisted around and held his gaze. There were tears in her eyes. Raymond wilted at the sight. "I'm exhausted." Her eyes danced as they grew unfocused.

Raymond tightened his hold around her slim shoulders. "Take my strength. You have me. And your mum. We can—"

"You don't get it, do you?" Her voice grew low and thick with tears. "It'll never stop. This sickness has no end—no cure. I don't know when it'll finally take me. The uncertainty of everything... I am terrified and exhausted."

"There are no certainties in life, Jane." Raymond was grasping at straws at this point. No word seemed enough. "Anything can happen to anyone. It's not about—"

She shook her head and sniffed. "You don't get it. You never can. I know you regret being with me now and then. You don't have to say it, but I see it in your eyes."

Her words stung. Cracks formed across Raymond's heart. "Don't say that."

"But you wouldn't deny it," she mumbled as she faced the sea.

Guilt hit Raymond like a sharp punch. "I love you." He turned her face and met her eyes, praying that she saw his sincerity. "I love you. Whatever you thought you saw is fleeting, insignificant."