My entire body is shaking as I walk into Lily’s cabin, noting how clean it is, even though everything seems to be in the same place she left it. I’ve been in a daze ever since I left the doctor’s office, my mind unable to comprehend what Dr. Black told me.
“She’d often wear black or navy, because it allowed her to believe they were wearing matching couple outfits, and my gentle attempts to dissuade her were unsuccessful. As time passed, she began to believe that the flowers he brought for his office were for her, and right before they were thrown away, she’d take them with her, completely ignoring every cue that didn’t support her delusions. Each time they went for lunch as a team, her mind only registered him, and she believed each instance was a date. Within a matter of months, Lily convinced herself they were in a relationship, and each time I tried to convince her otherwise, she became increasingly agitated, going as far as accusing me of trying to break them up. Her behavior wasn’t as volatile as other patients I’ve treated, and she didn’t seem to pose a threat to herself or to him, so I continued to counsel her in an attempt to manage her condition. Some part of her must have been aware of her delusions, because she never took it far enough to allow the illusion to shatter. It made me believe there was hope.”
I grab Lily’s diary and flick through it, re-reading her entries, unable to make sense of anything. I draw a shaky breath, fresh tears gathering in my eyes as I trace over her handwriting, unsure what to believe. Zane used to bring fresh flowers to his office twice a week, because it reminded him of his mother, and having her flowers nearby made him feel like she was there with him.
His mom used to bring his dad flowers that she grew for him, each a hidden message. It’s a tradition he always loved, and one he hoped to continue with his own wife. It’s why it hurt so much to read about them — because I thought he’d shared that tradition with Lily. I distinctly remember her saying he’d given her roses, which he expressly told me he reserved for his wife.
I search through Lily’s diary to find the date, a sob tearing through my throat when I recognize it, now I’m looking at it with fresh eyes. The day she claimed to have received a bouquet of roses from Zane was the same day as his mother’s birthday. They were never for Lily, were they?
My lungs begin to burn as I re-read the same letters that convinced me he cheated on me, Dr. Black’s reports in hand. I remember the way Zane let me pour through video footage of all his hotels, showing me each company trip they went on. I’d noticed the flowers in his office then, but I hadn’t made the connection. I’d been too focused on finding something that simply wasn’t there.
“Lily,” I whisper. “What have I done? What have we both done?”
I clutch her diary to my chest and sink to the floor, just like I did when I read her suicide letter. Hot tears stream down my face, and I try my hardest to breathe through the pain. Every time Zane went on a business trip, we’d talk on the phone until late at night, and I’d dismissed that, convinced myself he must’ve called me after he’d been with Lily — it’s something I despised him for, something that tore me apart for years. Thinking back now, it suddenly seems unlikely he could’ve been with Lily, when it seemed irrefutable in the past.
I bury my face against my knees and cry for everything we lost, all the pain Lily and I both caused, and for the first time in years, I don’t know what to do with all of my anger. Zane doesn’t deserve it, but neither does Lily, not considering how sick she was. I never even realized it, wasn’t there to support her when she needed me.
My mind drifts to the way he looked at me when I told him I’d forgiven him for what he’d done to me. He’s seemed so angry, so hurt, and it finally makes sense. When he denied Lily’s allegations, he wasn’t lying. I’d been so lost in my grief, and I’d felt so betrayed I wasn’t listening to reason. In light of Lily’s letters and everything she told me, nothing he said held any weight, but it should have. When I think of the way he begged me to believe him, what’s left of my heart just shatters.
Is this what Lily wanted? When she stood on that bridge, she firmly believed they’d dated, and the pain I saw in her eyes was real. But did a small part of her know that saying what she did would tear us apart?
Doubt begins to creep in, and I can’t help but wonder if she’d wanted to break us up. Everything she left me indicates that she’d wanted me to know what she’d considered the truth, but was Dr. Black right, and had some part of her known that none of it was real?
I search through her diary, remembering that at some point, she’d written something about how she wanted to be the only one he could think of, and that she didn’t like the thoughts she was having. Was that what it was all about? It seems like the impulsiveness and depression that are characteristics of her disorder led her to that bridge, but was she in part motivated by a desire to ensure Zane would never stop thinking of her? Did she know that doing what she did would tear us apart forever? Had that been her hope?
My stomach turns as dozens of scenarios cross my mind, each worse than the last. Raymond said he’d wanted there to be one person who only ever saw the best parts of her, but what did the worst parts of her look like? Could Lily have harbored ill intentions toward me, even if only because of her illness?
I think of the pain in Zane’s eyes when he told me he was tired of loving me more than I ever loved him, and newfound fear grips me. I focused all my pain on avenging both Lily and myself, destroying what I thought Zane loved most — his company. If not for his grandmother, he’d never have survived the damage I did. What he did to Harrison Developments in return was nothing in comparison.
I begin to feel sick as I think of everything I did to him, to us, and his expression on my birthday finally begins to make sense. He isn’t the one that needs to be forgiven— I am.
