PART1: ALWAYS!
The morning light filtered gently through the sheer curtains of Ethan's small apartment, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room. Mia sat curled up in an oversized armchair by the window, her frail frame wrapped in a soft blanket Ethan had draped over her.
The oxygen tubes resting beneath her nose were a constant reminder of the life that still tethered her here, fragile but present.
Ethan bustled in the kitchen, humming softly as he prepared breakfast. His voice, though off-key, filled the silence that Mia often let linger. He glanced over his shoulder, catching her staring out at the street below.
"Toast and eggs okay today?" he called, trying to sound as casual as possible.
She turned her head slowly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Perfect," she replied, her voice thin but steady. Ethan placed the plate in front of her, sitting down on the floor beside her chair.
He always sat close, as though the distance between them could shrink her fragility, as though proximity alone could shield her from the truth they both carried like a weight in their chests. "Eat up," he said, nudging her leg playfully.
"You need energy if we're going to tackle those college applications later." Mia let out a soft laugh, a sound Ethan cherished more than anything.
"Ethan, we both know I'm not making it to college," she said, her eyes drifting back to the window. His smile faltered for only a moment before he leaned closer, his tone light.
"And we both know you don't get to decide that. I mean, look at you—you're practically glowing. They'll be begging you to attend." Mia rolled her eyes, but there was warmth behind it.
Ethan's optimism was relentless, even if she saw through it. "Always the dreamer," she murmured. "Always," he echoed, his voice softening.
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PART2: MEMORIES AND GAPS
Days in their shared home had become a mix of routine and spontaneous bursts of life.
Ethan had filled the apartment with reminders of their past—photos from their first date, a jar of sand from the beach they'd visited last summer, and even the old Polaroid camera Mia had loved so much. But not all memories came easily anymore.
Sometimes Mia would stare at a photo and frown, her brows knitting together as she struggled to recall the moment. "Where was this?" she asked one evening, holding up a picture of them at a carnival. Ethan knelt beside her, his finger tracing the edge of the image.
"That was the Ferris wheel. You made me ride it three times because the view was 'too pretty to waste on just one turn.'" She tilted her head, a shadow of doubt flickering in her eyes.
"I don't remember that..."
Ethan reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "That's okay," he said. "I remember enough for the both of us."
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PART 3: THE DANCE
One rainy afternoon, as soft music played from Ethan's old radio, he held out his hand to Mia.
She looked at him, puzzled but amused. "What are you doing?" "Dance with me," he said, his smile unwavering.
"Ethan," she said with a shake of her head, gesturing to the oxygen tubes and her weak frame. "I can't." "You can," he insisted, his voice firm but gentle. "We'll go slow. Just follow my lead." With great care, he helped her up, one arm around her waist, the other holding her hand.
They swayed more than danced, their movements gentle and cautious. Mia rested her head against his chest, her breaths shallow but steady.
For a moment, the world outside didn't exist. It was just them—two souls holding onto each other as tightly as they could.
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PART 4: THE HIGHSCHOOL COUNTDOWN
Graduation was weeks away, a milestone they both knew Mia might not see. Still, Ethan filled their days with plans for the ceremony.
"You're going to wear that blue dress you love," he said one afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the floor while she reclined on the couch.
"And when they call your name, I'll be the loudest one cheering." Mia laughed softly, the sound carrying a bittersweet note. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?" "Of course," Ethan said. "We've made it this far. You're not giving up now." Her eyes met his, filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "Ethan," she said softly, her voice almost breaking.
"I'm not afraid of what's coming. But I'm afraid of what I'll leave behind." He reached out, taking her hand in his. "You're not leaving anything behind," he said firmly. "You're taking it with you. Every laugh, every moment—we'll carry them together, no matter what."
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PART5: LIVING FOR EACH OTHER
Each day became a gift. They spent hours talking, laughing, and sometimes crying. Ethan would read to her, bringing her favorite stories to life.
They watched sunsets from the balcony, the colors painting her pale face with a warmth he desperately wanted to preserve. Mia, for her part, found strength in Ethan's unwavering presence. He was her anchor, her constant reminder that even in the face of the inevitable, love could make life beautiful.
They knew the time they had was limited. They didn't talk about it much—it hung in the air between them, understood but unspoken.
Instead, they focused on now: the warmth of a hand, the sound of shared laughter, the beauty of a quiet moment. As they sat together one evening, watching the stars from their small balcony, Mia rested her head on Ethan's shoulder. "You know," she whispered, her voice faint but steady,
"I don't think it's about how long we have. It's about how much we love in the time we're given."
Ethan's throat tightened as he kissed the top of her head. "Then we're doing okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Yeah," she murmured, her hand slipping into his. "We're doing okay."
And for that moment, they were. Two hearts, beating for each other, in a world that was theirs alone.
YOU ARE READING
LOVE BEYOND TIME
RandomMia had always been a very bright and lovely girl who could light up a room with her smile. When she was 16, she was diagnosed with brain cancer. Her world was turned upside down. When she was very young her parents died due to a car accident, the o...
