OMG Anthony recive a bad news about AMBER .
“OMG, Anthony Received Bad News About Amber”
A Story of Love, Secrets, and Sudden Loss
Anthony Jameson was in the middle of replying to an email when his phone buzzed on the corner of his desk. It was a message from an unknown number. He usually ignored those, but something about the preview caught his eye:
“Anthony… it’s about Amber. Call me.”
His heart gave a quiet thump. He stood slowly, walked out of his office, and pressed the call button with a trembling thumb.
A woman's voice answered.
“Anthony? This is Dr. Eliza Carmichael. I'm calling from Saint Mercy Hospital…”
His throat went dry.
“It’s about Amber… I’m so sorry.”
Two Weeks Earlier
Amber Reynolds had always been a wild spark in Anthony’s carefully controlled world. She was chaos where he was order. She was spontaneous road trips, midnight dancing, and sending him ridiculous selfies at inappropriate times.
They had met five years earlier at a conference in Austin. She was a brilliant but fiercely independent environmental journalist. He was a corporate consultant — structured, skeptical, and a little too serious for his age. They shouldn’t have worked.
But somehow, they did.
Amber brought color into Anthony’s grayscale life. She once convinced him to hike ten miles through a rainforest just to see a waterfall she’d found on a travel blog. He hated the mud. He hated the bugs. But when they stood beneath the crashing water and she looked at him like he was the only person in the world, he had never felt more alive.
They had broken up once — she wanted to travel more, he was anchored to his city life. But they found their way back, the way real soulmates do.
Only… something had changed lately.
She had been distant.
She canceled their weekend plans twice in a row. She missed his birthday dinner. Her texts were shorter. Her smile, when they video chatted, was tired — like she was hiding something behind it.
He asked her once, “Are you okay, babe?”
And she just said, “I’m just working too hard. It’s nothing.”
Back to the Present
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear. Anthony’s shoes clicked down the hallway as he followed a nurse to the consultation room, the place where bad news is always delivered.
Dr. Carmichael waited inside.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” she began. “Amber was brought in three hours ago. She collapsed at a café downtown. The staff said she had a seizure. She was alone. There was no ID on her, but someone recognized her name from her press badge and called us.”
Anthony blinked, his hands shaking. “But she’s… okay now, right?”
The doctor hesitated.
“She’s stable, but… there’s more.”
She placed a folder on the table.
“Amber’s been undergoing tests over the past two months. She was diagnosed with glioblastoma. It’s a very aggressive brain tumor. She never told anyone.”
Anthony’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“What? No… no. That’s not possible. We just— We just talked two nights ago. She was fine.”
“She’s been hiding it. We found some notes in her bag. A journal. She refused treatment. She was in pain, Anthony… and she didn’t want to drag you through it.”
Three Hours Later
He sat beside her hospital bed, holding her hand. Her eyes fluttered open — faint, flickering like candlelight.
“Anthony…” she murmured.
“You should have told me,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “You let me love you with half the story.”
“I didn’t want you to watch me fade,” she said softly. “I wanted you to remember me full of life.”
Tears slid down his face, quiet and uncontrollable.
“Don't you get it?” he said, pressing her hand to his cheek. “I would’ve carried you through it. I would’ve stayed until the very end. You’re not a burden. You’re… you're everything.”
She smiled, but it was weak — a flicker of her old fire.
“I wrote you something,” she said. “It’s in my notebook. Page 47.”
Then she drifted off again.
That Night
Anthony sat in his apartment surrounded by photos of them: in Peru, in Italy, on the beach at Montauk. He opened her worn brown notebook and turned to page 47.
It was a letter.
“Dear Anthony,
I know you’ll read this after everything unravels. I didn’t tell you because I loved you too much to watch your heart break in slow motion. I didn’t want your memories of me to be a hospital bed and beeping machines.
You made me believe in calm. In safety. You gave me something I never had before — a home in someone’s arms.
Don’t be angry. Smile when you remember me, because I never stopped smiling when I thought of you.
And if you ever go back to that waterfall — leave a flower for me.
Love,
Amber”
Six Months Later
Anthony stood beneath the waterfall. The jungle mist clung to his skin. He held a single white lily in his hands.
He whispered her name into the roar of the water. He let the flower go.
As it drifted downstream, he stood in silence.
Grief still lived in his bones. But so did love. So did memory.
So did Amber.
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