I'm a writer, or an author I should say, I love creating stories with beautiful endings.

Until I got into this hospital bed. Everything changed when they started injecting fluids in my body, I became pale, I looked skinny, and my endings, they became unhappy.

Everyday I see and hear people crying because maybe their loved ones passed away, or maybe they are hardly breathing. And I don't know if I should be happy because no one will be hurt when I'm gone, or sad because I am all alone, and no one cares for me. 

My name only exists on books. But not on people's hearts.

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Everytime I enter her room, I see her back and my mind goes 

"Oh. She's writing another story that will break people's hearts again. I wonder when will she publish another story that has a happy ending."

But she looks beautiful everytime I see her focused, then lose concentration because I bothered her. But then she still smiles at me whenever I enter the room, she's a sweet angel with a devil living inside her heart.

I've been her doctor since she got here, she caught my eyes since day one. And I'm falling deeper into her as I enter this room each day.

And I'm afraid.

Not because she doesn't know.

But because I'm slowly falling inlove with her.

And she only has months left.