"The beautiful thing about time is it gives you a chance to say goodbye,
even when you pretend it's not."
— Lang Leav

I woke up earlier than usual.

Not because anyone called me.
Not because the heart monitor beeped strangely.
Just...
because I didn't want to miss
the last morning of my life.

I dressed myself.
Fixed my hair.
Sprayed a little lavender mist
the nurse had gifted me on my birthday.

And I waited.
Just waited.

—

He came at exactly 8:42 AM.
I knew, because I had been watching the clock for over half an hour.

This time, he wasn't wearing his cloak.
No umbrella.
No flan.

Just a white shirt, light grey trousers, and a cream-colored coat draped behind him.
Like a regular person.
Like today, we were going out for breakfast and chatting about bread prices or healthcare policy.

I smiled when I saw him.
Not because I was happy.
But because: if someone was going to take me —
I was glad it was him.

—

"The weather's beautiful today," I said.

"Yeah," he replied. "So beautiful... it makes today worth living."

I chuckled.
Not sure whether to thank the sky... or him.

He wheeled me outside.
We passed familiar trees, faded walls,
and the stone bench that had quietly witnessed
the beginning of us.

I didn't ask, "Where are we going?"
Because I already knew:
Wherever he was —
today would be beautiful.

—

We stopped by a small café in the hospital courtyard —
the kind that only sells teabags, bottled juice, and packaged cookies.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Anything that makes me feel alive."

He came back with two peach drinks.
Too sweet.
But today, I didn't mind.

We sat together beneath the cherry tree,
its petals shedding the last of the season's blush.

"If today wasn't your last," I asked, "what would you do?"

He was quiet.
Then turned to me.

"I'd learn how to be human."

I laughed — a little shaky.

"Aren't you already?"

"To be human... is to fear losing someone.
And I only learned that —
because of you."

—

We wandered through the glass corridor that led to the tiny library.
He found A Walk to Remember again.

I frowned.

"Reading it again? That's death by boredom."

He smiled.

"But it has good lines."

"Like what?"

He flipped to the exact page. Read softly:

"There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away,
but I have the feeling that if I did,
the joy would be gone as well."

I laughed.

"Sounds like me."

"Sounds like... you learned to treasure every moment,
even if it hurts."

—

That evening, we returned to the stone bench.
Neither of us spoke.

We didn't need to.

We just sat —
listening to leaves touch earth,
and to the wind —
not strong, not soft —
just enough to remind us
that today would never come again.

"Can I hold your hand?" I asked.

He turned. Nodded.

I reached out.
He took it.

His hand was the same as the first time I touched it —
not warm, not cold.
Just... his.

And for the first time —
his hand trembled.

—

Dusk fell.

I turned to him, whispered:

"I'm not scared anymore."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because today, I lived.
Not just breathed, not just survived, not just fought.
I really lived —
with someone.
For someone."

He didn't say anything.
Just brushed a cherry blossom
from my hair.

Just like the first time.

And we looked at each other.

Long enough for the whole season to pass
in that gaze.

—

Before returning to my room, I asked:

"Can you... stay until I fall asleep?"

He looked at me for a long time.
As if memorizing every detail of my face —
as if this might be
the last time he'd ever see it.

"I'll stay.
But only until you no longer need me."

I didn't understand.
Didn't ask.

I was tired.
But inside —
I felt light.

For the first time,
I fell asleep
without fear of waking up somewhere else.

—

I thought I would die that night.

My chest ached in waves —
slow, deep.

Breathing felt heavy.
Darkness pressed thickly on my eyes.

And then...

He was there.
Standing in soft light,
cloaked in black once again.
No smile.
No tremble.
Just watching.

I tried to say:

"I'm ready."

But he shook his head.

"No.
You're not going anywhere tonight."

"Why?"

He stepped closer.
Bent down.
Pressed a kiss to my forehead —
so soft,
I thought it might be a dream.

"Because I've chosen...
to go instead."

—

I woke up with morning light.

No one knew what had happened.
My mother cried.
The doctors were speechless.
My records couldn't explain
how my heart had recovered.

He was gone.

No one at the bench.
No umbrella in the hallway.
No hand to pick blossoms from my hair.

Only me.
And a heart that still beat.

—

I got up.
Walked to the window.
Breathed out.

I knew —
the one who kept me alive
no longer had a place to return to.

I drew that cat again.
The first one.

And for the first time,
I cried —
because there was no one beside me
to see it.