Minho froze.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  The words he had feared for so long.

“She is dying.”

He gasped.  “How long…does she have?”

“Not long.”

He felt his world crumbling around him.  The walls of his fragile reality shattering like glass. His heart clenched, and an uncontrollable pain spread across his chest.  He had been holding- no, grasping- onto the hope that she would get better.  That some miracle could heal her. 

That hope had failed him.  Worse, it had failed her. 

Minho swallowed hard and faced the doctor.  “Can I see her?” he asked shakily.

“Of course.  Go on in; I will call the nurses out,” the doctor told him, pity in his eyes. 

Minho clenched his fist.  He didn’t want this man’s pity. He wanted this man’s help to save the girl he loved.  But this man couldn’t do anything.

Once he passed the threshold into her room, he felt the anger drain out of his body, only to be replaced by a heavy sadness. 

She smiled weakly at him from the bed.  The sight of all the IV’s in her arm and the instruments monitoring her vitals made his stomach sink.  This was really happening.  He approached the bedside, pulling over the chair.  He had spent so much time in this chair.  Sitting by her, holding her hand when it got bad.  Making her smile, taking her for walks when it got better. 

“Yeobo, stop frowning.  It’s a bad look for you,” she joked to lighten the atmosphere.

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, his heart breaking.  “How can you joke about this?  You know what’s going to happen!”

She turned her gaze down to her lap.  “Mianhe.  But we’ve been ready for this; we knew it was coming. I just don’t want you to be so sad,” she murmured.

He sighed and sat down, reaching over to take both her hands in his.  They were cold.  “Babe I know, but I can’t help it.  I just…I thought we’d have more time,” he admitted, “I don’t want to lose you.”

She removed one of her hands and placed it on the back of his head, pulling it towards her.  She pressed her lips to his forehead before releasing him.  “I know.  I know,” she whispered into his skin. 

When he moved back, she saw the tears in his eyes.  She didn’t want him to cry.  “Tell me a story,” she suggested, “A story about us!”

He managed a smile and a nod.  “Anything for you,” he said.  He cleared his throat, racking his brain for a good story.  Ahh.  The day they met…