Suzanne woke up earlier than usual, long before the sun began stretching across the horizon. The room felt strangely quiet — too quiet for a morning where everything was supposed to feel normal. Yet nothing in her life had been truly normal for months.
She sat up slowly, pressing her palm against her chest.
The familiar heaviness was there… not pain, but a weight made of unsaid words, unshared fears, and the moments slipping between her fingers quicker than she liked.
Outside her window, the sky was still dark blue.
A lone bird chirped — one, short, soft note.
It felt like the beginning of something. Or maybe the warning of an ending.
She pulled her journal out from under her pillow, flipping to a blank page.
Her handwriting had grown shakier lately, but she wrote anyway:
"Today I want to remember everything good."
A knock at her door.
"Suzzane?"
Her father's voice — gentle, careful, like he was always measuring how fragile she might feel each morning.
She opened the door and smiled. "Morning, Dad."
He scanned her face — he always did that now — searching for exhaustion, discomfort, anything. But he didn't say it out loud because they had silently agreed on one thing:
She didn't want to feel like a patient in her own house.
He handed her a mug of warm milk. "Thought you might need this. Big day?"
"Yeah… Ryan said he planned something."
Her cheeks reddened without her control.
Her father's eyebrows lifted teasingly. "Ah. Must be important if my daughter is blushing this early."
"Dad!" she said, pushing his shoulder softly.
Their laughter filled the room — light, warm, and so painfully beautiful. Moments like these were becoming more precious, because they knew life wasn't promising them unlimited numbers of them. But they didn't talk about that. They didn't need to.
Before he left, her father paused at the door.
"You know… you're stronger than you think, beta."
She swallowed hard. "I learned from you."
His eyes glistened. He didn't wipe the tears away — he just let them shine. Then he walked out, leaving her heart full and aching at the same time.
At school,Ryan was waiting for her near the big banyan tree — the same spot where everything started between them.
He waved at her with a smile that reached his eyes, but she noticed something new… something softer.
Like he had been thinking about her too much.
"Ready?" he asked.
"For what?" she teased.
"For a surprise," he said, handing her a blindfold.
"What? No way!"
"Trust me?"
She sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately… yes."
He tied it gently — so gently she felt his hands trembling.
He guided her slowly through the garden path, across the sports ground, and then finally to a stop.
She felt a shift in the air — like she was standing somewhere open and peaceful.
"You can take it off," he whispered.
Suzzane removed the blindfold.
And froze.
He had set up a little picnic on the school rooftop — fairy lights strung low, her favorite chocolate pastries, and a tiny Bluetooth speaker playing soft background music.
A blanket with warm colors.
A small bouquet.
And one sketch.
A drawing of her — smiling, strong, hopeful.
Her throat tightened. "Ryan… this is… beautiful."
"I wanted you to have one perfect day," he said quietly.
Her heart cracked open a little. "Every day with you feels perfect."
Ryan swallowed. His eyes flickered with something she couldn't read — worry? fear? love? Maybe all of them.
They sat together, eating pastries, talking about everything and nothing.
She laughed so hard at one point that she had to lean against him to catch her breath.
He looked at her like he wanted to freeze that moment forever.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky orange, Ryan spoke, barely above a whisper:
"Suzzane… can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"If life… starts becoming difficult… or painful… or messy… you'll tell me, right?"
Her heart trembled. "Why would you say that?"
He looked away. "Sometimes you look like you're hurting even when you smile."
Silence.
Suzanne felt everything inside her pull in two directions — the wish to protect him… and the truth he deserved to know one day soon.
She placed her hand on his.
"I'll tell you," she said.
But her voice was too soft.
Too heavy.
Ryan nodded, but the discomfort in his eyes didn't fade.
As they packed up, Ryan suddenly stopped and said:
"Suzzane… I don't know what the future looks like. But I know one thing for sure."
She looked up at him, breath held.
"I'm not leaving. Not today. Not next month. Not… ever."
The wind carried his words gently.
They wrapped around her like warmth.
She smiled — but inside, tears were burning.
If only he knew how little time they truly had.
But she would tell him.
She had to.
Just… not yet.
Not tonight,
While walking home, Suzanne's vision blurred for a second — the world tilting sideways.
She grabbed a wall to steady herself.
A sharp, unmistakable pain shot through her head.
And for the first time…
she realized the illness wasn't waiting anymore.
It was moving faster.
Faster than she was prepared for.