THIRTY-SEVEN| Worth it

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Listen to the song<3

"Are you dead?" The door slams opened then closed

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"Are you dead?" The door slams opened then closed. "I texted you a million times. I found a really good surgeon so suck it up and-" Callan falls speechless as he sees Isabella in my arms.

"Fuck- Shit! Ah, surgery for the dog. Yeah the dog needs-"

"Shut up. She knows." I stop him from his pointless rambling.

"Oh fuck," His face falls, his gaze moving to Isabella as she hides her face in my chest.

"You guys back together?" He mouths quietly. I nod, watching as he does a little jump, mouthing, "Fuck yes!"

"Maybe she can convince you to get the damn surgery." He plops down on the couch, petting Rain who jumps next up next to him.

"Stop crying, Fiore. Please." I tilt her head up, wiping the tears that sit on her cheek.

I'm not dead yet.

She nods when she sees the frown on my face, wiping her tears then pulling me to sit on the couch. As soon as she sits, Rain leaves Callan behind, jumping up next to Isabella.

Callan gasps, looking at Rain with wide eyes. "Traitor." He snickers.

"Did you go to the doctor?" Isabella says as she lays her head on my shoulder, holding my hand between the both of hers.

I nod, kissing the top of her head.

I don't like that she's worried about me. I don't want her to be worried or upset. Especially not because me.

"The doctor said the best thing to do would be surgery. After that he might need a few sessions of chemo too." Callan says.

Yeah, but he says the chance of it actually working is very low. That's the part he's leaving out.

"Callan, leave."

"No. No, Callan, don't leave." Isabella sits straight, looking at me with her red rimmed eyes.

"Why? Why won't you get the surgery. Alessio, you have a life here. You can't just," she takes a deep breath. "You have to at least try."

This is my fault. I know it is. I should've never started a relationship when I knew I was dying.

"I don't want to try, Isabella. Thirty percent. That's the chances of this whole thing working out. It's not worth it."

Her face takes a look of hurt at my words.

"The thirty percent." I correct myself. "The thirty percent is not worth going under surgery, losing a part of lung, then doing chemotherapy."

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