He didn't see her after that. He also didn't return to the house.

Nevertheless, his heart couldn't simply let go of the warmth, or rather, of the reminiscence of the warmth that used to accompany him whenever they got together.

Several times he called her.

"Good morning, love." He'd say. It was a habit, really, to call her 'love'. He wondered if one day he'd be able to stop. Although it didn't matter what would happen one day. Presently, he couldn't. Or maybe he just didn't want to.

"Good morning, love." He said.

A chuckle.

He breathed in and calmly continued. "Where are you, my love?"

"Hospital." A short response.

He stopped in his tracks, a feeling of worry creeping in on him. But before he could ask anything, she continued:

"…I'm seeing my lover."

His throat felt dry.

"Oh?"

"Yes. And I have to go now. " The tone suddenly got harsher. " And don't call me 'love' if you aren't ready to accept the position of my side lover. Better yet, just don't call me in general."

She hung up.

And so he never called again. At least, he never called her.

He'd contact her friends instead, asking for any news. But the only response he ever got was: "She's in the hospital."

He often wondered how good of a person her new lover must be, for her to date him even though he's that sick. You don't do that for a stranger, for someone you just met, for a fling. He reckoned that the affair must have begun quite a while ago when she was still using the perfume, and when they were both living in the villa.

Or maybe, it all began long before that?

Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed logical. The pieces started falling together - she started coming back late; she stopped being cuddly with him and instead avoided him. That's probably when she met her new, "ultimate", lover. Perhaps it was his fault for never really confronting her. It was probably his fault.

At some point, he stopped asking about her. He even stopped bugging her best friend.

What good would that do? They've already fallen out of love.

He'll simply be a bother to her new sweet life.

Everything grew grey and monotonous. The colors belonged to the past. The laughter, the dreams, the hopes, the happiness – all that had no place in his current life.

He told himself he was okay. But, at night, he'd wrap himself tightly in a blanket, and feel deeply lonely.

But humans are very adaptable. And one day, he felt it wasn't as unbearable as he thought. He thought if he didn't pay attention to his wound, it would stop festering. He carried on with his life, accepting the barrenness, the emptiness, as a mere part of his existence.

Of course, he searched for remedies. He tried to turn a new leaf. New hobbies, new activities, new places. However, not new people. He couldn't see new people.

Because after tasting the blissful happiness with her, he couldn't imagine finding a match for their relationship. Truth is, he actually felt afraid of finding someone with whom he could be together. He avoided potential partners as he felt it would taint his image of a romantic relationship: Unique. Unrivaled. One and only.

His ultimate lover was her, even if it wasn't requited.

And, his mind birthed a hysterical idea that he kept in one far-off corner of his conscience – what if she wants to get back together?

A funny thought.

Yet, he couldn't help it.

The possibility, no matter how small, still existed, and he was ready to be called a lunatic if he could be allowed to entertain it. If ever she wanted to go back, what would he do? He didn't know. He didn't want to think that far. But it was possible, wasn't it? He wouldn't be a fool and get into a new relationship, then.

And as he thought this, it had clicked.

He still wasn't over.

He wasn't over and he wasn't done, and he wasn't ready to let go of the hand of the person that hurt him so much.

With a quivering heart, afraid of what was to happen, he decided to call her once more.

He felt like fainting. Scared she will pick up. Scared she won't.

And, she didn't.

He dialed several times and each failed.

Bracing himself, he decided to go to the hospital. He knew which one, but he didn't know which exact room she would be in. He roamed around the little building, feeling at a loss.

Seeing a cleaning lady emptying a bin, hope overcame him.

"Excuse me," He came up to her, and took a phone out of his pocket. "I was just wondering if you ever saw this woman, she-"

The old lady glanced at the screen. It was a picture of a happy couple hugging.

The lady looked up at his face, then down at the screen, and then gasped.

"Young man, you…you wouldn't be-…" She seemed very worried as she kept glancing at the picture and then at him as if to check if he was the one there.

He regretted showing a photo that made them appear as lovers since it could complicate things. After all, the lady must have witnessed Her being affectionate with another man, that is to say - the ultimate lover.

"She, umm…" He continued. "I think she visited this hospital a lot."

"Oh, she did." The woman nodded, quite upset.

"And, I was thinking of umm…seeing..."

What was he thinking? He fell silent.

"Who?"

He hesitated. Because he couldn't explain the relationship between them.

"Her… Or, umm…Well… The patient she was visiting." He squeezed out the words.

If he saw the ultimate lover, he could potentially catch a glimpse of her.

"See the patient?.. Oh, dear." The woman was very sad. She appeared a bit confused as he was speaking, but finally, when she was just about to answer, she saw someone passing by. She quickly hurried to stop the person, who was dressed in a white coat, visibly one of the doctors.

From the distance, He could hear parts of their conversation.

"The young man over there…he came to see the patient in 24." The cleaning lady said panicky.

The doctor was just as perplexed as a cleaning lady was before.

"The one in Room 24?" He asked.

"That's the one."

"But that patient passed away."

"Shush!" The lady urged the doctor. They glanced at the young man, who was clearly in a daze.

"Oh dear…" The lady went back to Him and didn't quite know what to say.

She kept looking at Him, remorseful.

He nodded to the doctor and thanked the woman for her help, and then slowly moved a bit farther from the hospital to gather his thoughts.

"He's dead." A wave of shock hit his mind.

Her ultimate lover, her special someone that she couldn't imagine being apart from, is dead?

He ran his fingers through his hair. No wonder she isn't picking up. She must be feeling dreadful.

He paced around, before trying to dial her again.

She didn't pick up, and he became distressed.

He decided to call her best friend.

"Hello?" He asked, ill at ease. "I'm calling to ask about-"

"-about her?" The other person interrupted. "Don't bother calling me again."

"She's not at the hospital."

"No. She's not at the hospital." The voice sounded angry.

"Is she with you?"

"She's not with me, though I wish she would be."

The female voice paused, and then, as if a water current after a dam breaks, it burst forward, and the woman started shouting.

"She's not here. She's not here, alright?!"

The sobbing broke out. After a moment, it lessened, and a voice weakly whispered.

"She's not here. She passed away. Don't call me for a while, alright?"

The call was cut off.

He felt everything blackening for a moment, dumbfounded.

What was that about? Who passed away? What is really going on??

Frantic, he turned around and ran up to the cleaning lady, who was about to go inside the building.

"Is…Is the person I showed you on the picture really…really…did she really pass away?" He squeezed out of himself. "Was She the patient who pass away? Is She the one who's dead??"

He was confused. What about that other man? What about her ultimate lover? Was that all a lie?

The cleaning lady weakly patted him on the shoulders.

"I am so so so sorry. It happened not long ago. She…She frequented the hospital a lot, and was ultimately moved here. I saw her a lot… I am so sorry for your loss…"

How come...How come??

He felt very detached. Even when they broke up, he never felt this empty. Not quite believing it, he asked if he could see the room where she stayed. Like a doll, he moved forward. He stared at the number "24" when the door was being unlocked and mechanically walked in.

A strong smell of antiseptics hit his nose. And he remembered the strong scent of her last perfume.

He stumbled and then sank to the floor.