𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔.
Elizabeth Reid learned, at seventeen, that she was going to die. Diagnosed with terminal cancer, she's faced with a question that no one should have to answer.
How do you leave a mark on a wo...
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I stare at Nathan, hardly believing he's here. My vision's all blurry from crying, and for a second, I wonder if I'm imagining him.
But then he's moving towards me, and before I know it, I'm on the ground, and his arms are around me. He's real. He's here.
I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent and the body spray he always uses too much of. Fresh tears soak his t-shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"I'm sorry," I mumble into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Nate."
He pulls back a little, looking down at me with a frown. "Hey, none of that," he says firmly. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."
I shake my head, wiping at my eyes. "But I ignored you. I pushed you away. I—"
"Beth," Nathan cuts me off, his voice gentle but firm. "Shut up."
That startles a laugh out of me, watery and weak, but a laugh all the same.
Nathan grins, looking pleased with himself. "There's my girl," he says softly. Then he nods towards the tree trunk. "Come on. My butt's got a date with that tree."
I climb back up, making room for him. We are side by side, just like we have been a hundred times before. For a moment, we're quiet, the only sound being the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
"So," Nathan says finally. "Rough day?"
I let out a bitter laugh. "You could say that."
He doesn't push; he just waits for me to continue. That's one of the things I love about him—he always knows when to talk and when to just listen.
"It was awful," I admit. "Everyone was staring, whispering. Acting like I'm already dead."
Nathan's hand finds mine, squeezing it. "I'm sorry," he says. "People can be real idiots sometimes."
I nod, fresh tears pricking at my eyes. "I just... I don't know how to do this, Nate. How to be the girl with cancer. The girl who's dying."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and final. Nathan's quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
"Beth," he says finally, his voice rough. "Is there... is there any chance? Any at all that you could..."
He trails off, but I know what he's asking. Is there any chance I could be saved?
I look at him and don't even have to say anything. He sees the answer in my eyes.
"Fuck," he breathes, closing his eyes like he's in pain.
"Yeah," I agree. "Fuck."
We sit in silence for a while, both lost in our thoughts. Then Nathan turns to me.
