Kismet | ENGLOT

Chapter 25

Engfa's POV:

The week of our final exams had finally arrived, marking the bittersweet beginning of the end of our high school journey. The air buzzed with a mix of tension and excitement. Some students buried themselves in textbooks, their pens flying over last-minute notes as they crammed every bit of knowledge into their heads. Others wandered the halls with an air of calm, as if the weight of exams was nothing more than a fleeting breeze.

For Charlotte and me, these days were both fleeting and precious. We spent every moment together, as if the time would slip through our fingers if we didn't hold on tight enough. Days turned into nights, and nights blurred into mornings, but we didn't care. Each hour together felt like a gift, one we were determined to treasure.

Ever since that night on her porch, when she finally let me back into her world, we had been inseparable. We talked openly to our parents, and while it wasn't easy, they finally agreed to let us be together. For Charlotte, this was her wish, her one desire in the time we had left.

Mr. Austin, ever the protective father, had been the hardest to convince. He had stood firm, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable, as I poured my heart out to him. I told him how much I loved Charlotte, how I would give anything to see her smile, how I didn't care about the odds or the pain that might come. His silence was deafening, but I didn't back down.

It wasn't until he saw the way I looked at her—like she was the sun, the stars, and everything in between—that his stance softened. "She loves you," he had said quietly, his voice tinged with both sadness and reluctant acceptance. "And you love her. That's all I can ask for now. Just don't hurt her, Engfa. Don't make me regret this."

I promised him, with every ounce of sincerity I had, that I would never do anything to hurt her. And I meant it.

From that day, our lives became a rhythm of alternating between her house and mine. At her house, we'd sit by the window in her room, the warm sunlight streaming in as we reviewed our notes, her head occasionally leaning on my shoulder when the weight of her illness made her tired. Her father would pop his head in every now and then, his expression always a mix of worry and gratitude.

At my house, my mom embraced Charlotte like she was part of the family. She'd fuss over her, bringing her tea and snacks while pretending not to notice how often Charlotte's laughter filled the room. My mother loved how Charlotte made me better, more driven, more alive. She told me once, late at night when Charlotte was asleep on the couch, "You're different now, Engfa. She's changed you in the best way. Hold onto her."

And I was holding on, as tightly as I could. With every shared glance, every gentle touch, every word spoken in the quiet hours of the night, I was holding onto her with everything I had.

The weight of our exams seemed trivial compared to the storm we were weathering together. But somehow, being with her made even the mundane feel magical. We weren't just studying for tests or preparing for graduation. We were fighting for moments, for memories, for the life we still had together. And that, more than anything, made every second with her feel like a victory.

Charlotte shifted slightly against me, her head still resting on my shoulder. Her small smile softened, and her eyes seemed to gaze at something far away, as though she were searching for the right words. I held my breath, waiting for her to speak, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around us like a warm blanket.

"I've been thinking," she began, her voice quiet but steady, "about us. About how everything in my life seemed to shift when you came into it."

I turned my head to look at her, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice gentle, though my heart was already pounding at her words.