"Time is a cruel master. It gives us moments, only to steal them away. But in those moments, we find eternity fleeting, fragile, and achingly beautiful."
The first night was a blur of rain and warmth, of cold skin and burning desire. I stood at her door, drenched and trembling, not from the storm but from the weight of what I was about to do. I had no right to be here, no right to touch her, to kiss her, to love her. But I couldn't stay away. Not when I knew this was my last chance.
When she opened the door, her eyes wide with shock and something else hope, maybe I felt my resolve crumble. I stepped inside, my hands reaching for her before I could think better of it. Her lips were warm against mine, her body soft and familiar, and for a moment, I forgot. I forgot that I was no longer alive, that I was nothing more than a shadow, a ghost clinging to the edges of her world. All I knew was her, the way she felt in my arms, the way she whispered my name like a prayer.
We didn't talk much that first night. There was no need for words. Our bodies spoke for us, moving together in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. I memorized every curve, every sigh, every shudder, knowing that this might be the last time I could hold her like this. When she fell asleep, her head resting on my chest, I stayed awake, watching her, tracing the lines of her face with my fingers. I wanted to remember everything.
The second night was different. Slower, softer, more deliberate. She asked questions where had I been? Why hadn't I called? and I dodged them, my answers vague and evasive. I couldn't tell her the truth, not yet. Not when she looked at me like I was still the man she loved, not the ghost I had become.
We sat on the couch, her legs draped over mine, her fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. The TV was on, but neither of us was paying attention. She was talking about her week, about work and friends and the little things that made up her life. I listened, nodding and smiling at the right moments, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about the accident, about the moment I realized I was dying. I had thought of her then, of her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was the center of her world. I had thought of all the things I would never get to say, all the moments we would never share.
"Aiden?" Her voice pulled me back to the present. She was looking at me, her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?"
I forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm fine," I lied. "Just tired."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was sweet and lingering. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of her, the taste of her. When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin.
"I missed you," she whispered.
"I missed you too," I said, and it was the truth. More than she could ever know.
The third night was the hardest. I could feel it the pull of the other side, the weight of what I had become. My body felt heavier, colder, and I knew my time was running out. But I couldn't leave her, not yet. Not without saying goodbye.
We went to the terrace, the city lights spread out before us like a sea of stars. She leaned against the railing, her hair blowing in the wind, and I stood behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist. For a moment, we just stood there, silent, watching the world below.
"Do you remember the first time we came up here?" she asked, her voice soft.
I smiled, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Of course. It was our first date. You were nervous."
She laughed, the sound like music to my ears. "I was not."
"You were," I insisted. "You kept fidgeting with your hair."
She turned to face me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, maybe I was a little nervous. But only because I liked you so much."
I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing against her cheeks. "I liked you too," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."
Her smile faltered, her eyes searching mine. "Aiden, what's wrong?"
I shook my head, pulling her closer. "Nothing," I lied. "I just… I want you to know how much you mean to me. How much you've always meant to me."
She frowned, her hands gripping my arms. "You're scaring me."
I kissed her then, pouring everything I couldn't say into that kiss. All the love, the regret, the longing. She kissed me back, her hands tangling in my hair, her body pressing against mine. When we finally pulled away, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting together.
"I love you," I whispered, my voice breaking. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you."
She smiled, her eyes filled with tears. "I love you too."
We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, saying nothing and everything all at once. But as the night wore on, I could feel it the pull growing stronger, the weight of my existence becoming too much to bear. I knew I couldn't stay much longer.
When she finally fell asleep, her head resting on my chest, I stayed awake, watching her, memorizing every detail. The way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, the way her lips curved in a faint smile, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly. I wanted to remember everything.
As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, I kissed her forehead, my lips lingering against her skin. "Goodbye, Amara," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'll always be with you."
And then I was gone.
"They say love is eternal, that it transcends even death. But what they don't tell you is that eternity is a heavy burden to bear, especially when you're the one left behind."