The Greatest Showman - Chapter 848: So Sad

"No, you're not Heather Cross. You're a coward."

Renly glared at the figure on the bed. She lay there, her eyes peacefully closed, no longer resisting, no longer struggling, no longer hoping. She had abandoned the fight, surrendering to exhaustion, simply wishing to rest, to close her eyes and never open them again.

He understood. He knew exactly what it felt like. He had been there too—caught in that same state of despair, where surrender seemed like the only escape. It felt easier, like everything would fall into place once you let go.

But giving up is the simplest choice. It's something anyone can do. Yet not everyone can persist. Once you give up, nothing is left. Perseverance might not promise a rainbow, nor the fulfillment of your hopes, but it does offer the chance for something more, something possible.

In this moment of life and death, of fleeting breaths and fading moments, Renly's anger and helplessness grew. He shouted, his voice a mix of fury and sorrow. "Heather, fighting may mean pain and suffering, but giving up leaves nothing behind. There's nothing left."

And yet, she didn't respond. Silence, heavy and impenetrable, greeted him.

Frustrated and overwhelmed, Renly stood, his emotions spiraling out of control. As if by accident, his elbow knocked over a stack of books on the table beside him, and they scattered to the floor with a loud crash, breaking the silence of the sterile room. The noise jolted him back to reality, but the pain in his chest remained. With a long exhale, he crouched down to pick up the fallen books.

A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor, and Renly instinctively picked it up. His fingers paused as his eyes fell upon the delicate handwriting scrawled across the note.

The characters were uneven, a stark contrast to the precise strokes of a seasoned hand—more like the scribbled notes of a child learning to write. But Renly recognized the handwriting. It was Heather's. She had written these words as part of her physical therapy, as the doctors instructed her to keep a journal to help her express her emotions. But this wasn't a typical diary. It was something more—an essay? Or perhaps just an outpouring of thoughts?

The note was filled with fragmented sentences, broken thoughts scattered across the paper. Yet, in its chaotic jumble, one sentence stood out, bold and raw:

"I love you too deeply, but you never know. I'm too afraid to part, so I pretend not to care. I desire you so much, but I never show it. I want to stay with you silently, until we both grow old together."

Each word seemed to carry all the weight of Heather's unspoken emotions—tension and longing wrapped in every crooked stroke. The words felt like a secret confession, so pure yet so painful to read. It was a form of love, silent and unseen, consuming in its intensity, yet tragic in its solitude. Love that blooms brightly in the heart, yet remains a secret, hidden away.

The words were so powerful that Renly's heart tightened in his chest.

"When you looked at me, I forgot all the years. I just wanted to dance with you, and your ageless charm made me believe you would only grow more beautiful with time. You made me want to have a family with you."

In that moment, memories rushed back to him.

The first time he came to Mount Sinai Hospital, guided by Anita through the various departments, meeting patients, and learning their stories. There was a young girl in the rehabilitation room, throwing a tantrum, refusing help from anyone. She stubbornly pushed away the parallel bars, relying on her own wobbly steps, determined to walk alone.

But when she stumbled, nearly falling, Renly rushed to catch her. Before he could steady her, she angrily pushed him away, snapping, "I can do it! I'm not a patient. I don't need your help!"

Her parents rushed to her side, but the girl continued to fight them off. Renly, who had been closest to her, was affected by her stubbornness. As soon as she regained her balance, he smiled and said, "It's not just the sick who need help. Every person, no matter how strong, may need someone at some point."

He remembered how the girl's mother had thanked him, calling after him as he left. That girl, Heather—so fiercely determined, so full of defiance, unwilling to accept her fate.

"I want to be with you until the end, because you're always there when I need you most. I'll love you until my last breath."

At just sixteen, Heather had spent half her life in the hospital. Her world had been small, confined, and without hope for the future. She couldn't experience the simple joys of youth—the innocence of secret crushes, the thrill of dressing up, the excitement of falling in love. These were things she would never have.

But she cherished her dreams in silence, hiding them deep within her heart, afraid to share her longing, her wish to experience life as others did.

Her eyes fell back to the bottom of the note, where her name was written repeatedly, over and over, as if she could capture Renly's attention, shyly and sweetly, with nothing but her words.

"Renly, Renly, Renly..."

Each repetition seemed to be an expression of love, of a desire to be seen, to be understood. The simplicity of the name became a cry for affection, a plea for attention.

Renly's heart ached, and the walls he had built around himself crumbled. He stood frozen, staring at Heather's pale, serene face.

He gently placed the note back into the book and set it down on the table. Then, with a heavy heart, he sat by her side once more, looking at her with an overwhelming mixture of sadness and love.

"Hey, Heather," he whispered softly, his voice almost breaking. "In case you forget my voice, I'm Renly."

"Do you remember? You promised you would never let go."

He smiled faintly, as if trying to lighten the moment. "Last time, we were at Pioneer Village. We watched 'Buried Alive,' met Lily Collins, and solved a problem with a gangster. And then, I wrote 'Go For It.' You remember, right? You said you would never let go."

He paused, his smile becoming more tender as he continued.

"'Go For It,' the song I wrote for you. It goes like this:

'My love, don't worry anymore,

When the world is cold, when the heart is heavy,

I will hold you close, never let go,

Never, until the blood runs dry.

I will never leave you.'"

"Remember when you whispered in my ear, 'I will never let go'?" Renly's voice was steady now, full of quiet affection.

He paused once again, then said, "It's time to honor that promise, don't you think? We're all promise-keepers, and you wouldn't want to leave with the reputation of 'treachery,' would you?"

Looking down at Heather's face, pale and fragile, her faint pulse barely discernible, Renly reached out and gently held her hand. His fingers brushed the cool, delicate skin, feeling the faintest tremor under his touch. His heart ached as he spoke softly, "Remember, 'I'm fighting cancer'? Adam didn't give up, and neither should you."

Renly's grip tightened slightly. "You can still have the life you dreamed of. Sing my song on the stage of 'American Idol,' go to my movie premieres... Who knows? I may even hold a concert one day, though I don't know if anyone will come. Maybe I won't even sell a ticket. But as long as you're in the audience, I'll perform. I'll make it a show, just for you."

He smiled brightly, despite the tears threatening to fall. He tugged gently on her pinky finger. "Let's make a deal, Heather. Okay?"