"What would you do if you knew love had an expiry date? Would you still say yes, knowing that one day, without reason or warning, their eyes would look at you like you were a stranger? What would you do if you knew the exact date your love would expire? Would you still love as much or would you even love at all?"
In a world that had conquered disease, poverty, and even death in many ways, they found one thing too unpredictable to regulate~Love.
So, they did what every great civilization eventually tries to do with chaos.
They tracked it and they contained it.
When people turned sixteen, a small chip was embedded just below their heart line. The chip had one function. It remained dormant until your body, your brain, your soul or whatever part of you that recognized love first would activated it.
And then, it would start counting down.
The day you fall in love, it begins ticking. No alarms. No warning. Just a slow, silent betrayal inside your wrist, glowing only when you're at the height of your emotions.
Each person's countdown was different. Some had a few decades. Others had months, but the truly blessed ones got a lifetime.
Most weren't that lucky.
Some people never fell in love at all. They wore the dormant chip like a badge of untouched innocence. Others… others watched their countdown flash to life in the presence of someone's laugh or the accidental brush of hands. Some choose to ignore it and others... They embraced it with their whole lives.
The rule was cruel but clear:
When your timer hit zero, your love was gone.
Not faded.
Not soured.
Gone.
Like it never existed. No heartbreaks, no tears, no sense of loss and no anger... Just gone.
And there was no way to stop it. No extension. No bargaining. No technology to override the expiration date. The feelings simply… disappeared.
Love became a decision you had to calculate.
Because loving now meant choosing your own heartbreak.
Maya never thought hers would start so young.
She was only twenty-three when the numbers started rolling.
1,612 hours.
Just under seventy days.
She met him in the way all the beautiful tragedies start... by accident.
He was late for his train. She was early for hers. The doors opened, bodies collided, papers scattered, and a conversation that should've ended with polite apologies somehow stretched into shared coffee, laughter, and a walk in the rain.
She didn't know his name yet. She had not even known he would be the one.
But the chip knew.
She felt the warm pulse beneath her wrist that night while brushing her teeth. The glow was soft, almost gentle. She didn't need to check it. She already knew.
Somewhere in her bones, her heart had whispered his name before her lips had the chance.
His name was Elias.
He liked sunrises more than sunsets because they felt like second chances.
He used too much cinnamon in his tea.
He played sad songs like lullabies.
He asked questions that made her soul ache.
And Maya?
Maya counted.
She counted every laugh, every breath, every kiss.
Every. Single. Day.
She didn't tell him about her timer.
How could she?
How do you tell someone that every moment with them is a step closer to forgetting them? That one day, her chest would feel nothing when he touched it? That soon, he'd say her name and she'd blink, confused, unsure why it once meant something?
So she loved him harder. She wondered if he also had a timer. Did his timer also blink for her? Would it end thesame time hers did? She didn't have the answers to any of these questions so...
She memorized the crinkle in his eyes when he smiled. She studied the way he said "beautiful" like it was a prayer. She tucked away every shared silence, every mundane routine, like secret treasures. She started keeping a diary to remember every single moment with him.
Because... time wasn't slipping.
It was sprinting.
On day 41, he told her he loved her.
He whispered it like a confession. Like it had been waiting in his lungs, clawing at his throat. Her body shook from the sudden acceleration she felt beneath her skin.
She knew, from the stories.
Saying "I love you" always sped the clock. It was the chip's cruel twist. The deeper you fell, the faster it ticked.
And yet…
She said it back.
Because some truths, no matter how doomed, deserve to be said out loud.
On day 63, she wrote him a letter. She didn't sign it. Didn't date it. Just folded it into the pocket of his favorite jacket. It read:
"When the colors fade, when your smile stops lighting up my world, please don't hate me.
I didn't want this.
But I chose you anyway.
Even knowing I'd lose you."
Day 69 came with laughter and tea.
Day 70 came with distance.
He didn't notice at first. She still smiled. Still held his hand. Still let him kiss her forehead.
But something was missing.
The spark in her eyes. The softness in her laugh. The way she used to lean into him without realizing.
That night, he looked at her and whispered, "Are you ok, Maya?"
She blinked, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"You're right here," he said, "but it feels like you're not."
On Day 71.
She didn't remember to call him.
Not because she was cruel.
But because the love was… gone. Entirely, no heartbreaks, no pain, no tears and worst of all, no memory.
He showed up at her door, desperation in his eyes.
"Maya," he breathed, "Are we okay?"
She tilted her head, warm and kind but vacant.
"Of course we are," she said. "Why wouldn't we be?"
His face crumpled.
"I told you I loved you."
She smiled politely. "That's sweet of you. Thank you"
And in that moment, Elias knew.
Her timer had run out.
He stepped forward, took her hands, and whispered, voice shaking:
"You said goodbye without even knowing it.
But my heart... it refused.
The moment your timer stopped... mine started.
And Maya… mine doesn't count down.
It counts up.
It counts every second I get to love you, even if you forget."
She blinked rapidly. Her breath stuttered.
Her wrist began to flicker erratically.
Memories hit her like a tidal wave.
The tea. The rain. The ache in her chest the first time he said her name.
Her knees buckled.
And then... darkness.
She woke up three hours later in his arms.
His jacket wrapped around her. The rain tapping gently on the windows. Her chip was blank.
The countdown… gone. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.
"Why… why do I still feel you?"
Elias brushed her hair from her forehead.
"Because some stories," he said, "aren't meant to follow the rules. And for some rules, there is always an exception" He planted a kiss on her forehead and let her digest his words.
Final Thought
Not all love stories are meant to last forever.
Some are written in fading ink.
Some are beautiful because they end.
Because they must end.
But if you're lucky…
Just lucky enough…
You'll find the one whose love doesn't count down.
The one who chooses you, even after you forget.
The one whose love defies the clock.
And reminds us:
"To love at all is never a waste.
Even if you forget…
Someone, somewhere, never will. And you might just be that exception"