"They say they don't have enough time to find a cure," she says miserably. "I don't want to die, John."
"I don't want you to die either," I reply quietly.
"I know you don't." She smiles, but once again, it doesn't reach her eyes. "You won't forget me, right?"
"I'll never forget you, Mari," I reply.
She smiles. "Good."
YOU ARE READING
letters
Romancethey were five when they started writing. they were seventeen when they stopped. he was eighteen when he read her letters. he was nineteen when everything fell apart. +cover creds to abhaya ♥︎
