The Last of Us

Chapter 19

Ethan refused to give up on me. No matter how hard I tried to push him away, no matter how many times I told him he deserved more, he wouldn't budge. Each time I put up a wall, he'd tear it down—brick by brick, until there was nowhere left to hide.

After the hospital visit, the prognosis had been clear: my condition was worsening. The tumor was spreading faster than they anticipated, and there wasn't much time left. The doctors had been blunt, but I appreciated their honesty. I knew what was coming, even if Ethan kept hoping for a miracle.

I didn't want him to be tied to me—to this dying shell of a person who couldn't even promise to remember his face in a few months. I tried to create distance between us, tried to protect him from the inevitable heartbreak. But Ethan was stubborn, persistent in his love and determination.

He refused to let go.

"Lena," he said one evening, his voice steady and full of love, "I'm not going anywhere."

We were sitting on the couch in his apartment, the soft glow of the lamps casting a golden hue over the room. I'd been distant all day, my mind consumed with fear and guilt, but Ethan—he was just... there. Always. Unwavering in his devotion.

"I don't want you to feel trapped," I whispered, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not going to get better. You know that, right? You can't fix this."

He gently took my hand, his thumb tracing soft circles over my knuckles. "I know, Lena. I know I can't fix what's happening to you. But I'm not here because I'm trying to fix it. I'm here because I love you."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. "It's not fair to you."

"What's not fair is watching you go through this and not being by your side," he said softly. "What's not fair is the thought of losing you and not making the most of the time we have together."

I looked into his eyes, and my heart clenched. I didn't understand how he could still look at me like that—with such love and hope, despite everything. I didn't deserve it. Not when I was fading away right before his eyes.

"Ethan..." I began, but he shook his head, cutting me off.

"I'm not giving up on you, Lena," he said firmly. "I never will."

His words hung in the air between us, thick with emotion. There was nothing I could say to change his mind, no argument strong enough to convince him to walk away. And maybe... maybe I didn't really want him to. Maybe I was just afraid—afraid of letting him love me while I slipped further into the unknown.

But Ethan wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid of the dark days, the bad memories, or the uncertainty. He was just... there.

I thought about the future that would never be—the one where we got married, grew old, and built a life together. That dream had slipped through my fingers long ago, but now, sitting here with Ethan, I realized that maybe it wasn't about how much time we had. Maybe it was about what we did with the time that was left.

And Ethan... he was determined to make every second count.

---

A week later, Ethan planned something special. He wouldn't tell me what it was, just that I needed to trust him. He picked me up after a long day of doctor appointments, his usual warm smile lifting my spirits.

We drove in silence for a while, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between us. I watched the city lights blur by through the window, wondering what was on his mind.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"You'll see," he said, his smile widening.

We drove out of the city, the buildings fading into the distance as the open road stretched out before us. After about an hour, we pulled up to a quiet, secluded park, illuminated by strings of fairy lights hanging from the trees. The air was cool and crisp, and the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves was the only noise around us.

"Ethan, what is this?" I asked, stepping out of the car and looking around in awe.

"This," he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the center of the park, "is a promise."

I followed him, my heart racing as we walked along the path lined with candles. In the middle of the park was a small gazebo, draped in soft, flowing fabric. Inside, a table was set with a bouquet of my favorite flowers and two glasses of champagne.

Ethan turned to me, his eyes full of love and hope. "I know we don't have forever, Lena. And I know things are going to get hard—harder than they already are. But I don't care. I want to spend every moment we have left together."

I felt my breath catch in my throat as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt my eyes welling with tears.

"Lena," he said softly, dropping to one knee, "will you marry me?"

I couldn't speak. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as I stared at him, my mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. He was really doing this. He was really asking me to marry him—even though I was sick, even though I might not remember him one day, even though there was no guarantee of a future.

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at him, this man who had stood by me through everything—who had loved me when I couldn't love myself. He wasn't asking for forever. He was asking for now. For whatever time we had left.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Yes, Ethan, I'll marry you."

He smiled, his face lighting up as he slipped the ring onto my finger. And in that moment, despite the pain and the fear, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope.

We kissed, and it felt like the beginning of something beautiful—something that didn't need years or decades to be real. We had now, and that was enough.

After we pulled away, Ethan held me close, his forehead resting against mine. "Thank you," he whispered. "For giving me this."

I smiled through my tears, my heart full and breaking at the same time. "No, Ethan. Thank you. For loving me."

And as we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I realized that no matter what happened next, we would face it together.