It was 10 AM, and the sun was blazing bright outside, its rays almost aggressive in their intensity. But Philip was still lying motionless in his bed, staring at nothing.

A whole week had passed since Derrick's funeral, and Philip was already back in Manhattan, but he hadn't really returned at all—not mentally.

He lay sprawled in his bed as the yellow beam of sunlight seeped stubbornly through the gaps in his curtains, cutting across the dark room in golden strips. But he wasn't planning to get up anytime soon, maybe not at all today.

Derrick's funeral had been held in Connecticut, where the Belmont estate resided on a quiet piece of land surrounded by old trees.

Although not financially massive like the Whitmores, the Belmont estate was a real estate firm with decent holdings. So their house was a charming little mansion, and it had a private family burial ground behind it, tucked away among the gardens.

Derrick was the only son of the Belmont family, which meant Ava Belmont was now the newly appointed heir to the family business, whether she wanted it or not.

And with their well-known connection to the Whitmore family, the death of the Belmont family heir had made the news across several outlets.

Of course, the news of Philip completely lashing out on reporters outside Mayo Clinic never came out—not a single mention anywhere.

It had all been taken care of swiftly by Lucas, and the hospital staff member who had allegedly tipped off the news had been identified, reported, and fired altogether, probably blacklisted too.

A small, intimate group of people, including the Whitmore family and most of the Belmont family members, had gathered to attend the funeral on that gray, drizzly afternoon.

Derrick's parents had repeatedly thanked Philip for everything he'd done for Derrick, their voices thick with grief and gratitude.

They'd even asked Philip to stay at their home for a few more days, to rest and remember. But he'd refused as politely as he could, saying he would visit again another time, though he didn't know if he meant it.

After Philip went home to Manhattan, he'd immediately locked himself up in his room for an entire week and only ventured out briefly to grab food from the kitchen before retreating again.

*Knock knock.*

"Philip, are you awake?" Lucas called from outside the door, his voice muffled but concerned. There was no response from inside, just heavy silence.

"..."

"Your parents are worried about your well-being. They're both on business trips right now and are really hoping you'll pick up their calls."

"There are also several emails that came for you. Your college started three days ago, and they sent a formal notice regarding your reason for absence."

Lucas paused and waited for any kind of response—a grunt, a shuffling sound, anything. After a long moment of nothing, he sighed and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

Philip stayed perfectly still in his bed, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling like it held answers.

He held his breath and listened to his own heartbeat thumping in his ears until he couldn't hold it anymore. Then he finally sat up, gasping slightly.

He'd either been listening to songs on repeat or reading novels to escape in the passing days, so he genuinely had no idea what messages he'd been getting on his phone, which sat untouched on his nightstand.

After a long pause of internal debate and consideration, he finally dragged himself out of bed and walked over to his desk. He picked up his phone and turned it on with shaking fingers.

As soon as the screen lit up, stacks upon stacks of notifications popped up one after another, flooding the screen.

There were a few missed calls from his parents from this morning, their names appearing multiple times.

An email from his college, exactly like Lucas had mentioned, but Philip didn't open it, not ready to face that reality yet.

A few messages on WeChat from people he vaguely knew—these were mostly Derrick's friends, people he'd met after hanging out with Derrick over the years but didn't know well personally.

Philip scrolled past most of them without reading, not thinking much of them, and was about to turn his phone off once more and retreat back to bed.

Just then, he saw Derrick's name suddenly pop up on the screen.

There was a message sent to him, sitting there unread.

It was dated October 12th—which was the day right after Derrick's passing.

Seeing his message appear all of a sudden, like a ghost reaching out from beyond, almost made Philip forget how to breathe. He choked on air.

With hands trembling and mixed emotions swirling violently in his chest, he quickly tapped to open it.

There was a long paragraph of nothing but text messages, line after line filling the screen.

"Hey man, I don't know when you'll get this message, but I'll probably be dead when you do. I asked one of the staff to send it after I died, or else I might just die of embarrassment haha." The message started with that typical Derrick humor, even at the end.

The message went on for several more paragraphs, saying how he didn't like Philip when they first met—how Philip had been an insufferable brat. How he grew to genuinely like him as time passed and they became real friends. And how he would never meet another person quite like Philip ever again, for better or worse.

Philip read all of this with a heavy heart that felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but he didn't cry. His eyes just slowly traced down the passage without showing any outward emotions, though his jaw clenched.

As he read each word carefully, he thought about how Derrick must have felt when he wrote this, lying in that hospital bed.

Was he sad?

Was he scared of what was coming?

Probably both. Philip could tell it from the way certain sentences were phrased, the pauses where Derrick must have stopped typing.

"And our friends,"

"Though you may think of them as just acquaintances you made through me, I think you'll actually get along well with them if you give them a chance."

"I know you'll make more friends besides them."

"Thinking back, I feel like I was in the way of you meeting new people without either of us even knowing it."

"After all, you couldn't do anything without me, let alone make new friends on your own."

"And with that, I wish for my death not to affect you in the future. That would make me a bad friend..."

"I hope my absence can give you the peace my presence couldn't."

"Live a life I couldn't."

Philip's eyes were welling up with tears without him even noticing it happening, the words blurring on the screen.

He stared at that last sentence and paused on it, reading it over and over until his phone screen eventually turned black from inactivity, reflecting his own face with tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

'That bastard, acting all cool at the end. Who does he think he's fooling?' Philip thought bitterly, his throat tight.

After a few long minutes of just staring blankly at the wall in complete silence, letting the words sink in, he finally sat up straight and started undressing himself, readying himself for a bath.

'You think I need you to be worried about me even after you're gone?'

'Don't flatter yourself. I *will* live on with my life even if you don't say it, you...'

'You didn't have to say it,' Philip thought to himself as he picked up his phone again and scrolled to call Lucas.