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Chapter One – A Beautiful Morning (Revised)
> "Get in the car, kitten."
His voice was deep. Commanding. Dangerous.
My fingers trembled on the door handle. I knew I shouldn't. I knew I should walk away. But when he looked at me like that—cold eyes full of fire—I forgot how to breathe.
The moment I sat, he slammed the door behind me and grabbed my chin.
"You were smiling at him like your damn teeth don't touch," he growled. "You think I didn't see that?"
"I wasn't—"
"Don't lie to me." His fingers tangled in my hair, not rough, but firm enough to make my heart pound. "You don't smile at anyone like that but me. You hear me?"
My breath caught. His face was close. Too close.
"I don't like sharing what's mine," he whispered, breath hot against my cheek. "And you, kitten… you're mine."
A sharp shiver ran through me as his thumb brushed my lip—and I stupidly bit it.
A dangerous gleam lit his eyes.
"Stop doing that," he said darkly.
"Doing what?" I whispered.
"That thing with your mouth that makes me want to ruin you."
My heartbeat slammed in my ears. I knew I was in trouble.
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> Three weeks earlier…
Sunlight spilled through our kitchen window, warming the faded curtains and casting golden patterns on the cracked tiles. The scent of fried eggs and baked bread filled the air, blending with the hum of the old radio. It was chaos—but the kind filled with love.
Dad was flipping eggs, Mum chasing Mia away from the honey jar, and Grandma humming as she sliced mangoes with practiced hands.
"Eat more, Alora," Mum said, sliding two more slices of yam onto my plate.
"Mum, I'm full."
"Full of air," Grandma muttered under her breath.
Dad laughed. "You need energy to carry all those heavy romance novels at the library."
Everyone chuckled. I did too—even though my chest felt tight.
I looked around the table. This mess, this noise… this was my world.
And soon, I'd have to say goodbye to it.
My little sister, Mia, suddenly asked, "Alora, are you gonna die?"
The laughter died.
"Mia!" Mum gasped.
"What? You all act like she's made of glass now," Mia said innocently.
I reached over and touched her cheek. "I'm not dying today," I said softly. "So stop worrying and help me sneak out extra toast."
She giggled and leaned against me. But the moment passed with a silent ache.
Because the truth was: I was sick. The kind of sick that counts time in months. One year left—if I was lucky.
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Later, I stood at the front door, my bag slung over my shoulder. I could still hear my family laughing inside.
A single tear slipped down my cheek.
How do you say goodbye to a life that never did anything but love you?
The door creaked open behind me.
"You always cry when you're leaving," Kira said, pulling me into a hug.
"I'm just… feeling things."
"Well, stop it. Your face gets puffy and scares the library kids."
I laughed. "Sorry, Miss Sunshine."
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We walked through the soft golden morning toward the library.
"So," Kira said. "Did you finish that fantasy novel?"
"The one where he leaves her because he's immortal?"
"Yep. Admit it—you loved it."
"I did. But I hate endings that hurt."
She glanced sideways at me. "Some endings are just beginnings in disguise."
I didn't respond. I was too scared to believe her.
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The library was calm, its quiet like a soft blanket. The scent of old pages filled the air as sunlight streamed through the windows. I shelved books, read stories to kids, and helped a shy boy find a book about dragons.
Kira left after lunch. By evening, I was alone.
I sat at the desk and pulled out my diary.
June 19.
Some days I feel like a ghost—smiling, walking, breathing—but not really alive.
The doctors gave me a year. Maybe less. But I made a promise today: I will live. Even if it hurts. Even if it kills me.
I flipped to a clean page and titled it:
MY WISH LIST
1. Fall in love. (With someone who won't love me back—so I won't break another heart.)
2. Write my own story.
3. Do something reckless.
4. Kiss someone under the stars.
5. Tell my family everything I feel. Even the hard parts.
I stared at the first line.
Where would I even find someone like that?
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A sharp creak broke the silence.
I jumped.
Someone had entered the library. A tall shadow stood at the far end, backlit by the dying sunlight. He moved without a sound—calm, confident. Almost... too still.
"Good evening," I called. "Can I help you?"
He didn't respond. Just disappeared between the shelves.
Something about him made the air feel heavier.
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Hours passed. The mystery man left. I sat behind the desk, reading.
At some point, I must've dozed off.
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I woke with a start. The library clock ticked 10:17 PM.
The town outside was quiet, nearly asleep.
I grabbed my bag and rushed to lock the front door. As I stepped out, a breeze hit my face—and then I saw him.
Under the flickering streetlamp stood a figure.
Still.
Watching.
His eyes caught the light—and for a second, I could've sworn they glowed faintly red.
To be continued...
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