Malia woke up with her heart thudding like it had danced all night.
The image of him—those silver eyes, the sharp contrast of his pale skin against endless black, the way he looked at her like she was everything—was still burned into her brain. She groaned, flipping over and stuffing her head into the hotel pillow.
"Stop thinking about your imaginary boyfriend, freak," she muttered to herself.
But her traitorous heart? It was already fluttering.
She hadn't even had time to process yesterday's excitement—Italy, the gelato, the pasta, the views that looked like oil paintings come to life—and now this guy? The one she saw so vividly in her dream? She hadn't met him, hadn't even heard a name... but it felt like she'd known him forever.
And the worst part? She wanted to know him more.
---
Muna barged into the room in a blur of sass and sunglasses. "Wake up, sleepyhead! You look like you saw a sexy ghost in your dreams."
Malia blinked at her. "Maybe I did."
Muna froze mid-sip of her coffee. "Wait... wait, what? Did you dream about a man? Spill, ho."
Malia smirked. "Just a weird dream."
Muna narrowed her eyes. "You never dream about people. Like ever. Okay no, sit your ass down—what happened?"
Malia waved her off and rolled out of bed. "He was just… tall, pale, white hair, eyes like storm clouds. That's it. That's all I remember."
Muna stared. "That's so specific, babe."
Malia turned toward the mirror, adjusting her curls with a thoughtful look. "I know."
---
The day was a flurry of wandering cobblestone streets, devouring every pastry in sight, and Muna dragging her from shop to shop trying on ridiculous hats and glasses.
They posed with statues, flirted with cute waiters, danced randomly in the street when a violinist played, and laughed until Malia's cheeks ached.
And for once, for once—she didn't think about cancer or dying or how unfair everything was.
She felt alive.
But when the fun faded into the quiet of the evening, the exhaustion hit harder than it should have. Her chest felt heavy, her limbs slow.
Muna noticed.
She didn't say anything, but Malia caught the way her best friend glanced over every few minutes. Her brows creased in worry. She tried to hide it with sarcasm.
"Damn girl, you tired already? You've aged five years since lunch."
"Guess your loud mouth drains my soul," Malia replied with a lazy grin, trying not to wince.
Muna didn't laugh.
---
That night, Malia found herself on the hotel balcony, staring at the moon.
She pulled out the crumpled piece of paper—the one she'd forgotten about until recently—and looked at the faded, scribbled title:
"Things I Wanna Do Before I Die (or before life gets boring af)"
Her bucket list.
The one she'd forgotten existed.
She added one more beneath "Be remembered for something good":
8. Stop being afraid.
She didn't know where that dream came from or who that man was... but something inside her whispered that he was real.
And she was going to find him.
---