THE FIRST I LOVE YOU
A month later, on a snowy evening, Grace and Ethan were sitting by the fire in his apartment. They had spent the day decorating his Christmas tree, laughing as they debated where the ornaments should go.
As they sat together, sipping hot cocoa, Ethan suddenly turned to her.
"Grace," he said, his voice soft but steady.
"Hmm?" she replied, glancing up at him.
"I love you," he said, his eyes locked on hers.
Grace froze, her heart pounding. She hadn't expected him to say it, though she realized she had been feeling it too.
"I love you too," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
In that moment, everything else—her illness, her fears, her limited time—faded away. All that mattered was the warmth of his arms around her and the love they had found against all odds.
Grace had never believed in miracles, but the love she shared with Ethan felt like one. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. For the first time since her diagnosis, Grace found herself focusing less on dying and more on living.
Ethan became her anchor. He showed her the beauty in small moments—dancing barefoot in her living room, laughing over burnt pancakes on lazy Sunday mornings, and watching the stars in quiet awe.
But as much as Grace tried to live in the present, the shadow of her illness loomed ever larger. Her body was changing; she tired more easily, and the pain, though manageable, was becoming harder to ignore. She kept it from Ethan as much as she could, unwilling to let the heaviness of reality overshadow the life they were building together.
One day, as they walked through the park, Ethan pulled her into a hug, his face serious. "Grace, promise me something."
"What?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat at his tone.
"Promise me you'll let me in. All of it—the good, the bad, the hard stuff. Don't try to carry this on your own."