A CONFESSION
A week passed before Grace saw Ethan again, though his number burned in her pocket every day. It wasn't planned when they ran into each other at the bookstore on Main Street. She was browsing the fiction section when his familiar voice called out, "Grace?"
She turned, startled to see him holding a stack of books. He grinned. "Fancy seeing you here."
"I could say the same to you," she replied, smiling despite herself.
Before she knew it, they were at the same café again, this time sitting at a booth near the window. Their conversation picked up effortlessly, as though no time had passed. Ethan told her more about his book-in-progress, and Grace shared stories about her childhood, the small adventures that had shaped her.
But as the hours passed, Grace's chest grew heavier. She couldn't ignore the unspoken truth between them—the truth Ethan didn't yet know.
"I need to tell you something," she said suddenly, her hands trembling slightly around her coffee cup.
Ethan leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "What is it?"
Grace's eyes darted to the table, then back to his face. "I'm… I'm not like most people you meet." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I'm dying."
Ethan froze, the words hanging between them like a fragile thread. Grace braced herself for the look of pity she had seen so many times before. But when she met his gaze, all she saw was quiet understanding.
"How long?" he asked softly.
"A year, give or take," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan leaned back, exhaling slowly as he processed the weight of her words. "You don't look sick," he said, not accusingly, but with genuine surprise.
Grace shrugged. "Cancer doesn't always show on the outside. But it's there, eating away at me."
The silence stretched on, and Grace's stomach churned. She expected him to say something polite and leave, like so many others had when they learned the truth. Instead, Ethan reached across the table and placed his hand over hers.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness.
Grace blinked, her throat tightening. She hadn't expected kindness, let alone this. "You don't have to—"
I know," Ethan interrupted gently. "But I want to. I don't know what brought me to that café last week or why I sat at your table, but I'm glad I did. And if you're okay with it, I'd like to keep getting to know you."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Even knowing I don't have much time?"
He smiled faintly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe that's why it's worth it."
For the first time in weeks, Grace felt the sting of tears not from fear or despair, but from something resembling hope.