Three days passed.
Leyah didn't come to school.
Harvey told himself she was just tired. But when her mother called him on the fourth day, her voice trembling through the phone, he knew it was more than that.
She was back in the hospital. Complications. A fever. Chest pain. The doctors were quiet, and quiet was never good.
---
He sat by her bedside that evening.
The room was white, far too white, like it was trying to pretend nothing bad ever happened in it. Machines beeped softly. An IV dripped like a slow countdown.
Leyah smiled when she saw him, but her eyes were dimmer.
"Hey," she said, voice raspy.
"Hey," he whispered, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"You look like you haven't slept."
"I haven't."
She gave a tiny laugh. "That's stupid. Sleep is amazing."
He sat down and held her hand. It felt colder than usual.
"You missed the school festival," he said.
"I heard. Did anyone set anything on fire?"
"Just the takoyaki stand. But that's tradition."
She smiled. Then silence.
The kind that presses against your ribs and makes breathing hard.
---
Finally, she spoke. "Do you think… it's selfish to want more time?"
Harvey blinked. "What?"
"I have six things left," she whispered. "On my list. Six. That's it."
"You'll finish them."
She turned to look at him, her eyes soft and unbearably tired. "Harvey, don't lie to make me feel better."
"I'm not."
"You are," she said, gently. "But it's okay."
She reached for the notebook on the nightstand. Pages worn, creased, smudged with rain and ink and dreams.
She flipped to the list.
Crossed off five.
Six remained.
She tapped the next one:
6. Watch snow fall one more time.
"It's summer," Harvey said, trying to smile.
"I know."
"But… I'll find a way."
She looked at him, really looked, and her smile returned—small, radiant.
"I believe you."
---
Later that night, after she fell asleep, Harvey stayed by her window.
The city glowed below. Warm. Loud. Alive.
And he stared up at the sky, silently begging the stars for something impossible:
Let me borrow snow. Just once.
Just enough to make her believe in magic again.