Elizabeth sat quietly in the cold hospital room, her wrinkled hands folded tightly on her lap as she waited for the doctor to call her name. Her heart felt heavy, but her face remained calm — composed — like she had already accepted whatever fate awaited her.
"Elizabeth Adams," the nurse finally called, and Elizabeth rose, walking toward the room with a forced smile.
Inside, the doctor greeted her with a polite nod. "Ms. Adams, I hope you're feeling better."
Elizabeth settled in the chair, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I've been better," she admitted. Then, with a light-hearted chuckle, she added, "But I'm still breathing, so I suppose that counts for something."
The doctor hesitated, his eyes shifting toward her file. "So… uh—" he cleared his throat. "Is there anyone with you today? Someone I can talk to about your results?"
Elizabeth's smile didn't falter. "No one. Just me." Her voice was calm, almost unnerving in its steadiness.
A brief silence passed. The doctor hesitated, but Elizabeth spoke first.
"So… rabies, huh?" she asked, her voice light, almost as if she were joking.
The doctor's face dropped, stunned by her words. "Uh…" he cleared his throat, nervously adjusting his glasses. "Yes… uh—Ms. Adams, your reports confirm that you have—uh—rabies. And, unfortunately, since the virus has already progressed…"
Elizabeth gave a small, lifeless chuckle. "No cure, huh?"
The doctor swallowed thickly. "I'm afraid not." He took a shaky breath before finally continuing. "Ms. Adams… you have about a month left. The medication we're giving you can only prolong your time by a few days, maybe weeks — but it won't change the inevitable."
Elizabeth's heart clenched — not for herself — but for the people she would leave behind. Still, her smile didn't waver. "I see," she murmured softly.
The doctor hesitated. "If you'd like, we can start treatment to make you more comfortable, but—"
"No treatment," Elizabeth cut him off gently. "Just give me what will keep me on my feet until my time comes."
The doctor's lips parted, about to protest, but something about the calm, unwavering look in Elizabeth's eyes silenced him. "Alright," he finally said, handing over her prescription and medical reports. "I'm… I'm really sorry, Ms. Adams."
Elizabeth's smile was faint but genuine. "Don't be. I lived a good life. And I plan to leave with no regrets."
And with that, she walked out — not a single tear, not a single trace of fear.
The ride home felt colder than usual. Elizabeth's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the medical reports, her mind already racing. She didn't have much time — one month, maybe less. There were so many things she still wanted to say… to Stella… to Mallory… to Agatha.
By the time she reached home, the weight of reality sat heavily on her chest. With a deep breath, she walked toward the wooden table, grabbed four empty envelopes, and laid them in front of her. Each envelope had a name written on it.
Stella.
Mallory.
Agatha.
Simon.
Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up a pen and began writing her letters — one by one. But just as she finished the first line, she heard the front door thud. Her body stiffened, and she quickly shoved the envelopes inside the drawer, wiping her eyes just as a knock sounded on her door.
"Come in," she called softly, forcing her voice to sound normal.
Mallory walked in, her face expressionless as always, but her eyes — those steely, guarded eyes — carried a hint of concern.
"What did the doctor say, Grams?" Mallory asked, walking toward her, her tone flat but firm as she knelt in front of Elizabeth.
Elizabeth hesitated. She could feel the truth burning her throat, but she swallowed it. For now. "Just my heart acting up again," she smiled, brushing a hand through Mallory's hair. "He gave me some medication. Nothing too serious."
Mallory didn't respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on Elizabeth, as if silently trying to decipher the truth. "I should've gone with you," Mallory finally muttered.
"Nonsense, sweetheart," Elizabeth smiled warmly, her hand gently stroking Mallory's cheek. "I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."
Mallory clenched her jaw slightly, her usual cold demeanor not faltering. "Still…"
Elizabeth, noticing the subtle concern in Mallory's eyes, quickly changed the subject. "Can you do something for me, darling?"
Mallory immediately stood up. "Anything."
"Can you call Agatha for me tomorrow? I… I need to talk to her."
Mallory's brows furrowed, but she didn't question it. "I will."
Elizabeth exhaled quietly. "Thank you, sweetheart."
Silence filled the room for a moment. Mallory didn't say much — she never did — but her lingering stare on Elizabeth spoke volumes.
"Go get some rest, Mallory," Elizabeth finally whispered. "I'm fine."
Mallory hesitated, her hand tightening into a fist by her side. Without a word, she turned around and left the room. But the moment the door shut behind her, Mallory leaned against the wall, her nails digging into her palm.
Mallory stood outside the door for a long moment, her back pressed against the cold wooden surface. Her chest felt heavy — like something was stuck there, refusing to leave. She couldn't shake the feeling that Elizabeth was hiding something… and it gnawed at her insides like a slow, burning ache.
Swallowing hard, she finally pushed herself off the door and made her way to her bedroom. The house felt eerily quiet, except for the faint creak of the wooden floors under her feet.
She entered her room, dropped her bag on the chair, and slowly slid under the sheets. But no matter how much she tried, sleep didn't come. Her mind kept drifting back to Elizabeth — the way she smiled a little too much, the way her voice carried a forced lightness, and the way her hands trembled when she patted her hair.
A heavy sigh escaped Mallory's lips. Her walls — the ones she spent years building to shield herself from feelings — suddenly felt paper-thin. She hated it. Hated how vulnerable she felt.
After what felt like an eternity, Mallory threw the blanket off and walked back toward Elizabeth's room.
The door was slightly ajar, and she could see Elizabeth already asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. Something inside Mallory softened at the sight. She walked in quietly, careful not to make any noise, and stood beside the bed.
Elizabeth looked so… fragile. Too fragile.
For a moment, Mallory just stared, her throat tightening. The urge to say something — anything — burned within her, but she hesitated. After all, she was never good with words.
Finally, she crouched down beside the bed and lightly touched Elizabeth's hand, her cold exterior cracking just a little.
"Good night, Grams," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mallory hesitated again before her lips parted, and for the first time in a long time, her voice softened with genuine warmth.
"I love you."
The words felt foreign on her tongue — like she hadn't said them in years — but they poured out effortlessly now. And before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on Elizabeth's frail hand.
Then, as quietly as she came, Mallory turned around and walked out of the room. But she didn't notice the tear that slipped down Elizabeth's cheek — nor did she see the faint smile that formed on her grandmother's lips.
Because for Elizabeth, that moment… was enough.
And it broke her heart knowing Mallory had no idea it might've been the last time she'd hear those words.