Blind Love, Her Gift of Sight

Four years after I died, my blind ex-boyfriend returned from overseas.

He brought with him the luxury SUV and the million-dollar dowry I had once demanded.

But he told everyone he didn't love me anymore.

He said he only wanted to see the look of regret on my unfaithful face.

He didn't know that four years ago, I had already passed away from liver cancer.

The corneas that allowed him to see again were the only thing I left behind in this world.

...

I saw Beau Montgomery again four years after my death.

His black Maybach pulled up in front of my mother's dilapidated bungalow.

He stepped out of the car, dressed in a tailored, expensive suit that screamed power.

His eyes were cold as he looked at my aging mother with pure contempt.

"Where is Lyra Delancy? Tell her to come out and face me," he demanded.

The moment he spoke my name, a visible wave of hatred flickered in his eyes.

My mother's body stiffened. Her face, already weary, crumbled into a mask of deep sorrow.

"Beau... Lyra is dead..." she whispered.

I thought hearing about my death would bring him some grief. At the very least, I expected shock.

Instead, Beau let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"That heartless woman. Is she so afraid of being embarrassed for dumping me that she's faking her own death now?"

With a snap of his fingers, a group of men in black suits swarmed into our small, cramped yard.

Each man carried a heavy briefcase. They opened them in unison, revealing stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills.

It looked like tens of millions of dollars.

The neighbors gathered at the gate, whispering and gasping at the sight of such wealth.

"Back then, Lyra looked down on me because I was blind. she blamed me for not being able to afford a proper life," Beau said loudly.

"Today, I'm just here to show her whether I, Beau Montgomery, can afford her or not!"

He crossed his arms, looking down at my mother with an air of cold arrogance.

"Tell Lyra to come here and beg on her knees. If she does, I might forgive what she did to me. Otherwise..."

The threat in his voice was unmistakable. He turned to the crowd of onlookers.

"You all can be my witnesses. Lyra Delancy wasted my youth, mocked me, and insulted me."

"Is it not justified for me to want a little payback against such a piece of trash?"

The neighbors began to murmur among themselves, their voices filled with judgment.

"She always seemed like such a sweet girl. How could she do something so cruel?" one said.

"I haven't seen that girl in four years. Maybe she went off to be some rich guy's mistress," another whispered.

"They seemed like such an honest family. To think they'd hide such a scandal."

The ugly words cut through me. I saw my mother's sunken eyes grow dark with pain.

When I died, my family was left penniless from trying to pay for my treatments. There was no money for a funeral.

Most people in town didn't even know I was gone.

What hurt the most was realizing how much Beau hated me.

But I could understand it.

I would rather have the boy I love hate me than have him spend the rest of his life mourning me.

Beau seemed to enjoy the way the crowd turned against my memory. After hearing the gossip, he left, satisfied for the moment.

The chaos settled quickly.

I felt a strange sense of relief...

If Beau had stepped just a few feet further into the house, he would have seen the memorial plaque my mother kept for me.

My mother was still shaking from the encounter. Once everyone was gone, she collapsed onto the floor.

"My child," she sobbed. "Was it really worth it? Doing all this for a man like that?"

My mind drifted back to when I was still with Beau.

He wasn't born blind. He had an accident as a child, and his family was too poor to afford the surgery.

Our meeting wasn't like a movie. He ran a tiny, struggling flower shop.

I went in to buy flowers for Mother's Day, and it was love at first sight.

The boy's face was pure and beautiful, half-hidden among the petals.

Even though his eyes were hollow and sightless, they were the most soulful eyes I had ever seen.

Back then, I kept thinking it was such a tragedy that someone so beautiful couldn't see the world.

I didn't have to try very hard to win Beau over. He had been starved for affection his whole life.

When I showed him kindness, he surrendered his heart almost instantly.

I never took his love for granted. In a way, we were saving each other.

I found a sense of home in Beau, and he experienced a level of love he'd never known before.

The disaster struck four years ago. I was suddenly diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer.

I was terrified that Beau wouldn't be able to handle the news. So, I made up a shallow excuse to break his heart.

I still remember the day we broke up. It was snowing heavily.

Beau stood right in front of me, shivering.

"I'm sorry, but I need to be with someone who can actually help my career," I told him.

Beau bit his lower lip so hard it bled. Snow piled up on his hair, and his nose was bright red from the cold.

"So, you're throwing me away too?" he asked, his shoulders trembling.

Those words were like a blade carving out a piece of my heart. The cold wind rushed into the wound.

I gritted my teeth and gripped my medical report hidden in my pocket. I forced my voice to stay flat.

"You can't even afford a decent engagement ring. What use do I have for you?"

I didn't dare look at his face. I was afraid I would break down and pull him into my arms. I turned and walked away.

But I couldn't just leave him. I followed him from a distance to make sure he got home.

That day, on a path that usually took ten minutes, Beau fell down several times. It took him an hour to get back.

Every time he hit the ground, my heart shattered a little more.

I hated myself for not telling him the truth, but I couldn't be selfish enough to let him suffer through my death.

Now, seeing him return so successful, my heart was a mess of joy and crushing sadness.

My soul followed him as he drove away.

The only perk of being dead was that I could finally see clearly.

I didn't expect the second place Beau visited to be his old flower shop.

The bell on the door chimed softly as he entered. A young boy turned around to greet him.

It felt like a lifetime ago. That boy looked a lot like the old BeauDinnocent and naive.

The shop hadn't changed at all.

A bitter ache rose in my chest. Most of our happiest moments were spent within these walls.

This shop held all my beautiful memories. It meant everything to me.

Beau looked around the room. For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the corners of his eyes turn red.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" the boy asked.

Beau pulled himself together, bought a random bouquet of lilies, and turned to leave.

As he reached the door, his expression turned cold and indifferent. He turned to his assistant.

"Buy this place. I don't care how much it costs. Then, tear it down."

His voice was so calm, yet it chilled me to the bone.

"But sir, business seems to be quite good here..." the assistant stammered.

Beau's face twisted with disgust.

"This place is a monument to my shame."

My heart throbbed.

He hated me so much that he couldn't even stand the sight of the place where we fell in love.

Within a week, Beau bought the shop. He came in person to watch as the bulldozers tore it apart.

I stood in front of the shop, waving my ghost arms, trying to stop them. I screamed until my throat burned.

"No! Please, stop! Don't do this!"

But my voice grew fainter and fainter.

I had forgotten that they couldn't see or hear me.

Beau used to cherish this shop more than anything. It was his life.

Once, some thugs came by to demand protection money. Beau couldn't pay, so they threatened to wreck the place.

He blocked the door with his thin body. Even though he couldn't see, his stance was firm.

They kicked and punched him until he couldn't get up. Even covered in bruises, he refused to let them in.

If I hadn't arrived in time, they might have killed him that day.

That night, I cried as I applied ointment to his wounds. I asked him why he was so stupid. It was just a shop.

Beau had looked at me stubbornly and said, "No. This is where we met. We decorated this place together. I can't let it go."

Back then, he must have loved me so much that he was willing to die for our memories.

He fought so hard to save it from others, yet now, he was the one destroying it.

I looked back at the ruins. The place I had visited so often in my afterlife was now just a pile of dust.

I slumped to the ground.

Beau stared at the wreckage with a cold sneer.

"I won't allow a single trace of my humiliation to remain in this world."

To him, our time together was nothing but a disgrace.

As the dust swirled around him, a woman stepped out of the car and draped a coat over his shoulders.

She was flashy and sophisticated. Standing next to Beau, they looked like a perfect power couple.

"Let's go. It's filthy here with all this dust. It was just a dumpy old shop anyway, I don't know why you insisted on coming."

I recognized her. Her name was Portia Fairchild. She had chased Beau at the same time I did.

Back then, the moment she found out he was blind and poor, she had run for the hills.

How were they together now?

It looked like Beau relied on her quite a bit.

I was terrified. Even in death, I didn't want Beau to be fooled by a woman like her. I followed them into the car.

Inside, Beau leaned his head on Portia's shoulder, looking exhausted.

"I'm lucky to have you. Otherwise, I would have lived in darkness forever," Beau murmured.

Those words hit me like a lightning bolt. My ears began to ring.

Portia smiled and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Silky, it's because I love you. I'm not like Lyra. I wouldn't leave you when you needed me most."

Beau's face twitched at the mention of my name.

"She doesn't even belong in the same sentence as you. That piece of trash... just hearing her name makes me sick."

The hatred in his eyes was vivid. It felt like my heart was being ripped out.

It wasn't true. I was the one who donated the corneas. How did Portia take the credit?

I clenched my fists, my shoulders shaking with rage.

Portia chuckled. "Well, we're getting married soon. You need to look your best."

Beau leaned back into her embrace.

My mind went blank.

Beau was getting married? To a liar?

I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked at his hand and noticed the diamond ring on his finger.

A sharp, stabbing pain spread through my entire being.

If I had known my sacrifice would be stolen by someone else, I wouldn't have died in silence.

But it was too late.

Beau stared out the window, his grip on his phone so tight his knuckles turned white.

I could see his screen. It was open to the last text I ever sent him.

"I'm sorry. I hope you find happiness."

I had sent that with the last bit of my sight before the surgery. Back then, I truly meant it.

I stayed by Beau's side for a long time. So long that I lost track of time.

Time doesn't mean much when you're a ghost.

"Still nothing?"

Beau sat in his office, looking up at his assistant with impatience.

"I'm sorry, sir. We've been searching for a week. There's no trace of Lyra Delancy."

The assistant bowed his head.

"Useless! All of you are useless! Is it that hard to find one woman? I don't believe she just vanished. Keep looking! Even if she's dead, dig her out of her grave!"

Beau hurled a file across the room. His eyes were bloodshot.

He was right. If he wanted to find me, he'd have to dig me up.

I found it almost funny. Why was he so obsessed with finding me?

He seemed to have everything he wanted now.

"One more thing," Beau called out as the assistant reached the door.

"Since we can't find her, go to her mother's house. Give them some pressure."

A dark shadow crossed his face.

I had a terrible feeling. I rushed back to my mother's house as fast as a spirit could.

I underestimated how fast Beau's men could move. When I arrived, the house was a disaster.

Everything was smashed. My elderly mother was kneeling on the floor, trembling.

A thug held a baseball bat against her forehead.

"Listen, old lady. Where is your daughter? Tell us, or I'll make sure you're begging on the streets by tomorrow."

Seeing the wreckage and my mother begging for mercy broke something inside me.

My mother looked like she had given up on life. She slowly reached out, picked up my memorial plaque, and threw it at the thug's feet.

"My daughter is dead! She died four years ago! Why don't you ask your boss who gave him his eyes? My daughter owed no one anything, but she gave everything to Beau Montgomery!"

Her voice was raw and cracked, her eyes filled with tears.