5 ~ Eventually

My heart hammered as I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Not yet," I lied. "But I'll let you know when applications open."

He laughed, the moment of tension breaking. "Fair enough. Though I feel obligated as your best friend to vet any potential deflowerers."

"God, you're awful," I groaned, throwing a pillow at him.

He caught it easily. "Just doing my duty." His expression softened. "Seriously though, Sam. Be careful with that one. Make sure it's someone who deserves you."

The tenderness in his voice made my chest ache with more than just illness. "I will," I promised quietly.

We spent the next hour plotting logistics, with Rafael suggesting we document our adventures with photos. "Evidence for posterity," he insisted.

"Or evidence for my sister to use at my murder trial," I countered.

By the time he left—roaring away on Persephone with a promise to text me details about our first adventure—I felt a strange mix of excitement and melancholy. I'd set things in motion that couldn't be undone, for better or worse.

Later that night, alone in my room, I reopened the journal to the hastily crossed, out item number seven: Kiss Rafael.

Even though I'd scribbled over it heavily, the words still showed faintly through the ink. My fingers traced the letters, feeling foolish and young and desperately sad all at once.

With a sigh, I ripped out the page entirely, tore it into tiny pieces, and buried them at the bottom of my trash can. It was a stupid addition anywa, far too revealing if Rafael ever saw it.

Besides, crossing lines with Rafael would only make everything harder in the end. He'd lost his mother at birth; I couldn't bear the thought of putting him through another loss, especially if he knew how deeply I felt about him. Better to remain friends, to give him memories unsullied by romantic tragedy.

My phone buzzed with a text from him.

{ lake tomorrow night 11PM. I'll pick you up. Bring a towel and your courage }

I smiled despite myself, typing back.

{ I'll bring the courage if you bring the sanity }

His response came quickly.

{no promises, Sunny. Someone has to be the bad influence }

I set down my phone and pulled out my medication organizer, counting pills with practiced efficiency.

The ritual was so familiar now that I barely thought about it, antibiotics, enzymes, supplements, all designed to keep my faulty body functioning despite itself.

As I swallowed the last pill, my phone alarm reminded me it was time for my breathing treatment. I set up the nebulizer beside my bed, filling it with the medication that would help clear my lungs enough to sleep. The machine's soft hum filled the room as I placed the mask over my face and breathed in the medicated mist, trying not to think about how much worse my breathing had been lately.

May knocked gently before poking her head in. "Need anything?"

I shook my head, giving her a thumbs up around the mask.

She entered anyway, sitting on the edge of my bed. "So, this bucket list..."

I tensed, but kept breathing steadily through the mask.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" she asked carefully. "Dr. Aaron said— "

I pulled the mask away momentarily. "Dr. Aaron said to live my life, May. That's what I'm doing."

"There's living your life, and then there's taking unnecessary risks," she argued. "Skydiving? Really?"

"I'm doing it," I said firmly, replacing the mask to end the conversation.

May sighed, reaching out to smooth my hair back from my forehead, a gesture so motherly it made my eyes sting. "I just worry."

When the treatment finished, I set the equipment aside. "I know you do. But I need this, May. I need to know I didn't just...exist."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You've never just existed, Sam. You've always been extraordinary."

"In sickness, maybe," I said quietly. "Now I want to be extraordinary in life."

May didn't respond, just pulled me into a hug that was gentle around my fragile ribcage. "Just promise me you'll be careful. And that you'll tell Rafael the truth before..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"I will," I lied. "Eventually."

After she left, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the wheezing in my chest that had become my constant companion. Eventually. A luxury I wasn't sure I had anymore.

Dr. Aaron's office hadn't changed in the ten years I'd been coming here, same calming blue walls, same outdated magazines, same fish tank in the corner. I'd named all the fish years ago; only Blueberry, the ancient beta, remained from the original crew.

"Hello Blueberry," I murmured, tapping the glass gently. "Still hanging in there, huh? Me too."

"Samantha?" The nurse called, and I followed her to the examination room, going through the familiar routine of measurements and tests.

Dr. Aaron entered a few minutes later, his kind face creased with the smile he always managed to summon despite whatever my charts told him. At thirty-two, he was younger than most pulmonologists, but what he lacked in years he made up for in genuine care and respect for his patients.