𝐀 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞.
Vivian Rae has only a year to live. Instead of spending his remaining time with the woman he swore to love until his last breath, he makes an unexpected request: he asks his doctor to be his f...
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The first time I saw Vivian Rae, I was mesmerized.
He was a vision in black, standing tall in his racing gear. His dark eyes, shadowed by unruly hair, held a depth that pulled me in. The lean strength of his figure was evident even from a distance, and as he stood there, calm and composed, while the world around him crumbled, I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
When his mother was declared dead, he didn’t flinch, but I saw through the facade. The toughness was just a mask, concealing the agony inside.It wasn’t until later that I learned his name. Vivian Rae.
The realization hit me like a wave—he was the boy from my elementary school, the boy who sat at the back of the class, a mischievous smile always playing on his lips.
I had been in the same school, even his class. He was the quintessential bad boy, always in trouble but never crossing a line that couldn’t be erased.
I was the opposite, sitting up front, diligently taking notes, while he lounged in the back, barely paying attention.
Yet, even then, I was drawn to him, fascinated by the enigma he was.
"Vivian Rae." Every teacher seemed to call his name at least once during a class. I never understood why. He did his homework, didn’t fail his tests, and he wasn’t a bully. It was his presence—his aura—that seemed to command attention.
I remember, how my whole body withered away when our eyes met occasionally. Nonetheless no words exchanged. The inscription of his name still sat on my books, like how it's etched on my memories.
Our only real interaction came during a free period. He sauntered in from the field, all sweaty and disheveled, yet he looked undeniably dashing. I couldn’t stop gawking at him.
"Water." His voice was a low rumble as he pointed to my water bottle.
I handed it over without thinking. When our hands touched, a thrill shot through me, electrifying and unexpected. It was such a small moment, but I never forgot it.
But I truly fell for him the day he saved my life. He was my savior.
It was only a short time before he was expelled for something trivial. His fiery spirit was too much for the school to handle, and he was gone, leaving behind an empty seat and a hollow feeling in my chest.
Years passed, but when I saw him again, the same thrill I felt as a child came rushing back. And when he asked me if I had ever been in love, my heart stumbled over itself.
"I’ve never been—" I paused, the words caught in my throat.
How could I tell him? How could I confess that I’d been in love with him for as long as I could remember?
"—in love before." The truth was lodged somewhere deep inside me, but I couldn’t bring myself to let it out.
Not when his heart was somewhere else, not when he was living on borrowed time.
