POV: Ava Mitchell
The days after our reunion blurred together—bittersweet moments stacked on top of each other like fragile glass. Liam Carter was talking to me again. That alone was enough to make my heart beat differently, even if I knew I didn't have forever.
I would wake up with a smile, knowing he might text. I would reread our chats, carefully avoiding anything that might make him suspicious. I had promised myself that I wouldn't burden him with my pain. Not now. Not when he had finally let me back into his life.
It was funny in a cruel way. The very thing I feared telling him might be the reason I'd never get the chance to hear him say he truly cared—not like a sister, but like someone who once meant something more.
And Claire Evans? She was everything I was not. Bright, outgoing, confident. She belonged in his world. I was just a shadow now, slowly fading away.
But still… I played along. Smiled when he teased me. Laughed at his jokes. Pretended like I wasn't crumbling inside.
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February 24, 2025
I got a voice note from him that morning.
> "Ava, you're the only one who gets my weird sense of humor. Claire's sweet, but she doesn't understand my sarcasm the way you do."
My hands shook. It was the first time in weeks that he'd said something like that. Something that felt like a string tied to the past—a whisper of the boy who once sat beside me at that wedding, folding up his sleeves like he had the whole world figured out.
I pressed the phone against my chest, shut my eyes, and imagined a world where things were different. Where my body wasn't failing me. Where I could tell him the truth.
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March 2, 2025
"Come over," he texted. "Claire's not in town. Let's play cards again like last time."
The guilt pierced through me, sharp and sudden. But I went. We played cards, drank mango juice like teenagers, and laughed till our stomachs hurt. I was alive in those moments. Even if my body was slowly writing its goodbye letter, I felt human again—less like a tragedy, more like a memory being made.
But before I left, I glanced at him—memorized his smile, his dimples, the way his eyes lit up when he won. And then I did something I never thought I'd do.
I hugged him.
He stiffened for a second, then smiled and gently patted my back.
> "What was that for?" he chuckled.
> "Just… for being you," I replied.
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March 10, 2025
The pain got worse. I started missing school more often. I didn't want to worry Mom, so I said I was preparing for boards. She didn't question me much—maybe she was tired, maybe she already knew.
But I kept texting Liam like nothing was wrong. I'd send him memes, complain about bad food, even pretend to be annoyed when he called me "Miss Drama Queen." And he? He just… stayed. Not in the way I wished he would. But enough to make me feel a little less alone.
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March 29, 2025
That night, I wrote him a letter. Not to give it to him now. But for later—when I wouldn't be able to say goodbye.
> *"Dear Liam,
If you're reading this, I hope the sky is clear that day. I hope Claire still makes you smile. I hope your favorite band releases new songs and you blast them on full volume like you always do.
I just wanted to say that knowing you was one of the best parts of my short life. You made me laugh when I thought I'd forgotten how. You made me feel alive when I was fading.
And maybe, in another lifetime, things would've been different. Maybe then, I would've told you the truth…"*
I sealed it. Hid it in a diary I hoped someone would find. Just not yet.
---
April 3, 2025
Liam texted, asking why I was being so distant.
> "You okay? Or did I do something again?" he wrote.
> "I'm fine. Just tired," I replied.
A lie. A simple, hollow lie.
But he bought it.
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