LOVE BEYOND TIME

CHAPTER 3: THE WALLS SHIFTED

A week had passed since Mia last saw Ethan in the hallway, fragile and quiet in his wheelchair. Now, he was back at school, moving about on his own, no longer in the hospital's shadow, though the air around him was still heavy with something Mia couldn't quite grasp.

It was lunchtime, and Mia spotted Ethan sitting alone in the canteen, his tray in front of him, untouched. His back was turned to the bustling crowd of students, his focus entirely inward. He seemed closed off, distant, like he always did, but Mia couldn't stop herself. Something drew her to him, a quiet determination to be there, even if he didn't care.Taking a deep breath, she walked over and sat down beside him, her own lunch tray clattering softly on the table. Ethan didn't look up. He barely seemed to notice her presence, his focus remaining on the small meal in front of him, as though eating was a task, not something to be enjoyed.

"Hey," Mia said gently, breaking the silence, though her voice sounded almost shy in her own ears. "I'm glad to see you're doing better."

Ethan gave a noncommittal grunt, still not meeting her gaze. He picked up his fork, stabbing at the food without much interest. The silence between them stretched, but Mia wasn't ready to give up.

She shifted slightly in her seat, searching for the right words. "I... I've been wondering," she began cautiously, "why were you in the hospital?"

Ethan paused, his fork midway to his mouth. His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't look at her. For a moment, Mia thought he might just ignore her question entirely. But then, in a flat, emotionless tone, he answered, "I'm sick."

Mia blinked, unsure how to respond. She had guessed something was wrong, but hearing it put so plainly left her momentarily speechless. "I... I didn't know," she said quietly, her heart aching with a mix of confusion and sympathy. "What—what do you mean, sick?"

Ethan glanced at her, finally. His dark eyes were cold, guarded, as if daring her to press further. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice low and firm. He set his fork down and stood up, picking up his tiffin. "I've got to go," he mumbled before walking away, leaving Mia staring after him, her lunch forgotten.

Her mind raced. *Sick?* That one word echoed in her head for the rest of the day, haunting her. *How sick? What did he mean?*----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The next day, Mia found herself wandering near the sports ground during PE class. Like every other day, she couldn't participate. She sat on the edge of the field, watching her classmates run and laugh under the bright sun, a faint smile on her lips. But her heart felt heavy. She had known illness her whole life—known the weight of it, the way it colored every moment with uncertainty. But Ethan? She hadn't realized he was carrying the same burden.

She noticed him then, sitting a few meters away, alone as usual. His hands were in his lap, and his eyes were downcast, lost in thought. She didn't hesitate this time. Without thinking, she walked over and sat beside him.

Neither of them said a word.

The silence between them felt different now, though. It wasn't awkward or tense. It was like they understood each other in a way that didn't need to be spoken aloud. Mia didn't push him for answers this time. She simply sat there, letting the quiet stretch, letting the weight of their shared solitude settle between them.

Days passed like this. Every PE class, every lunch break, Mia found herself beside Ethan. At first, they didn't talk. Ethan remained quiet, his guard still firmly in place. But Mia was patient. She didn't need him to open up all at once. She was just there—present, unwavering.Then, slowly, things began to change.

One afternoon, as they sat together on the field, Ethan broke the silence. His voice was soft, almost fragile, like he was afraid the words might shatter something inside him if he spoke too loudly. "I wasn't avoiding you, you know," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the ground.Mia turned to him, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected confession.

"I've been sick for a long time," he continued, his tone flat, emotionless. "Doctors... they've been saying the same thing for years now. I have a few weeks, maybe months, left."Mia's breath hitched, her chest tightening painfully. She hadn't known. She had suspected something was wrong, but not this. Not the same terminal sentence she had hanging over her own life.

"I know what that feels like," Mia said softly, her voice trembling. She wasn't sure why, but her hands were shaking. She clenched them in her lap. "I'm sick too, Ethan. I... I've known for a while that I don't have much time left either."

Ethan's head finally turned, his eyes meeting hers with something close to surprise. For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Two people, lost in the same sea, finally finding another soul to hold on to.

"You too?" Ethan asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he couldn't quite believe it.Mia nodded, her throat tight with emotion. "Yeah. Me too."

From that moment on, something shifted between them. The walls that had surrounded Ethan began to crumble, slowly but surely. He started telling her things—small things at first, like how he used to love playing soccer before he got too weak, or how his favorite book was one he had read a hundred times over because it was the only escape he had from his illness.

Mia listened, and sometimes, she shared her own stories. They didn't talk about the future, because for both of them, the future was a fragile thing, something too delicate to touch. Instead, they shared the present, the small moments they had, and that was enough.Ethan, who had once lived in his own dark world, started to come out of it, piece by piece. And Mia, who had once felt so alone in her fight, found comfort in knowing that she wasn't alone anymore.

In those quiet moments, sitting together in the shadows of the life they had left, they found something neither of them had expected—connection. And even in the face of an uncertain tomorrow, that connection made all the difference.