The school halls felt colder than usual that morning.
Aria walked past him without even looking — no smile, no greeting, not even a glance.
The same girl who used to drag him by the hand to class now walked like he was a stranger.
Ethan noticed.
Every second of silence between them was a cut he couldn't stop feeling.
During class, she didn't turn when he whispered her name.
During lunch, she left before he could sit beside her.
And when the bell finally rang, he couldn't take it anymore.
He found her near the old oak tree behind the school — the one they used to sit under after classes.
Her back was turned, her arms crossed tightly against her chest like she was holding herself together.
"Aria," he said softly.
She didn't turn.
He took a step closer. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"
That's when she spun around, her eyes already wet, her voice trembling with anger and heartbreak.
"When were you going to tell me, Ethan?" she whispered.
His brows furrowed. "Tell you what?"
Her tears broke free. "Don't lie to me!" she cried. "You have four months to live, Ethan. I heard everything — you and your guardian."
He froze, his lips parting in shock, but no words came out.
Aria's voice cracked as she stepped closer, hitting his chest weakly. "You knew, and you still came to school every day acting like nothing's wrong… acting like you have time."
He caught her hands, his eyes glassy but calm. "Because I wanted to live, Aria. I wanted to breathe, laugh… see you smile. I didn't want you to look at me like this."
Her tears fell harder. "Like what? Like someone I'm about to lose?"
He didn't answer. His silence said everything.
"I could've been there for you," she said between sobs. "We could've fought it together. But you— you kept it all to yourself."
Ethan lifted a hand, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his touch so gentle it broke her even more.
"I didn't want to make you watch me fade," he whispered. "You're the only thing that ever made me feel alive, Aria. I wanted to keep that version of us — before everything changes."
Her knees went weak, and she leaned into him, sobbing against his chest.
He held her tight, his own tears slipping down silently, his heartbeat uneven beneath her ear.
"I hate you," she whispered brokenly. "I hate you for making me love you this much."
Ethan pressed his lips against her hair and said, barely above a whisper,
"I'm sorry for giving you a story without an ending."
The wind carried their silence — heavy, trembling, and full of the love they didn't know how to save.